As I listen to the lyrics flowing from his mouth, I sit up straighter.
He sounds…different.
Fuck, this song was made for his voice. All deep, smooth, and full of feeling. When I sing it, I don’t mean it like he does. To me it’s just a song. To him it’sher.
The chair I’m sitting in makes a loud screeching sound when I slide away from it. Penn’s head snaps my way. His brows pinch together, guilt crossing his features. I tip my chin, letting him know I’m good, even though we both know I’m not.
As predicted,I got zero sleep. I tossed and turned in my bunk for two hours before the guys came back from sound check. Then I stuck my headphones in. I didn’t want to hear how anything went or what their plans were. I planned on skipping the show, pretending it’s just a bad dream. Tomorrow it’ll be over, and the next day we’ll be in a new city doing another show, and all this will be a distant memory. But I can’t do that to them.
I focus on my phone screen, watching a NatGeo episode in an attempt to distract myself. A kangaroo takes up the screen; he’s chillin’ in a lake. I always thought kangaroos were crazy looking. Like beefed-up rabbits. Seriously, what do they eat? They’re fucking jacked.
Wait, what’s happening? Why is there a dog in the water, too?
Oh, no.
If I could, I’d scream. I’m yelling in my head, telling the dog to swim, get the hell out of there, but this isn’t a live stream. There was no trigger warning on this episode, so if I’m about to watch a dog get drowned, I’m going to lose it. Gonna write a strongly worded email with a shit ton of curse words to the sick fucks at National Geographic.
All of a sudden, a man appears in the water. He’s yelling at the kangaroo, trying to shoo it away, but the animal just stares at him, maybe even puffs his chest. That damn thing is baiting him. Meanwhile, the dog is frozen, unable to swim away, and barely holding his head above water.
“Kangaroos often see dogs as dingoes, triggering their defensive mechanisms. When they feel threatened, their instincts kick in, which could lead to disastrous consequences.”
Threatened? It’s a chocolate lab. Doesn’t even resemble a dingo. I’m two seconds away from turning it and watching something more soothing, like Beta fish or bald eagles, when the man swoops in, screaming and running off the ugly beast, saving his dog.
A heavy breath expels from my lungs. Thank fuck.
49
TRAVIS
There’s alreadya line of people in front of the venue, waiting for the doors to open. I’m tempted to go over there and make myself known so they don’t forget about me when they’re loving Penn later, but I can’t talk, so what’s the point?
I make my way inside and watch with the rest of the guys from the greenroom as TripleKill performs. When it’s over, they all glance at me, and I give them a thumbs up. Liam pats my shoulder and follows Tanner out the door. Penn continues to stare at me, so I flick my wrist, telling him to go.
“This doesn’t change anything.” He claps a hand on my shoulder and squeezes.
My throat burns. Not because of my jacked up vocal cords, either. I hear his underlying meaning. He’s not trying to take my spot, and there’s no Loose Threads without me, like he said before. But there is—tonight anyway.
“You ok?” Ellie asks after everyone’s gone.
My gaze stays firmly pinned on the door my bandmates just walked out of, wishing I was going with them.
I hop up and exit the room, parking my ass in a chair nextto the stage. I have a clear view of the guys, and if I turn slightly, I can get a glimpse of the crowd. Mainly the ones in front,but that’s good enough for me.
Halfway through the set, I’ve seen enough. They’re killing it. The audience is loud, singing the lyrics alongside Penn. People are crowd surfing. Heads are banging, and I can actually take the time to appreciate the fans. When I’m on stage, it’s chaotic. Everything flies by so damn fast, I barely have a moment to drink it in, but from here, I can. It’s fucking amazing. We built this.
Loose Threads was created in Penn’s parents’ garage when we were sixteen. I think Pacey was the one who gave us the idea for the name, always saying something about Penn’s torn-up jeans. The knees were blown out, and they were shredded, full of loose threads, but he kept wearing them, as if he didn’t have any others. She said when we made it, his first purchase should be new pants.
It was a pipe dream then. Two kids with big ideas and not a clue of how to make them happen, yet somehow, we did. We’re not millionaires and probably never will be, but this right here is exactly what we pictured when we were dreaming.
Anxiety claws at my skin, making my chest tighten and sweat dot my brow.
They’re doing it. They don’t need me. As much as Penn might hate it, my dude can sing. No practice and barely any time to prepare, and you can’t even tell he doesn’t do this every day.
Across the stage, I see Ellie on the other side. She’s holding her phone up, probably recording for Olivia. I heard her crying on the phone with Penn earlier because she was going to miss his first show. I think she even tried to catch a red eye last night, but couldn’t find anything available.
Standing up, I take one last look at my best friends and bandmates, then walk away. I really want to drink a fifth ofvodka until I pass out, but that sure as shit won’t do my throat any favors. I only took one Adderall today. It was early this morning. I’m trying to rest, but I don’t feel tired. Not like I could sleep anyhow.
I could use a good fuck right about now, but I doubt Ellie’s up for it. It would be so easy to score pity sex from literally any other girl in this building tonight, but my dick is cravingher. I want to bury myself so deep inside her, I black out. Kind of like I did the other night when I passed out in her bed. I sleep like a baby next to her every time.
