“None.” That was the truth. “Everything happens for a reason, and I know that things wouldn’t have worked out between us in the long run anyway, you know what I mean?”
"Yeah," he replied in a soft voice. "My last girlfriend, Liz—you met her in San Francisco, remember?" How could I forget? I nodded and threw up in my mouth at the same time but luckily his attention was on his hands instead of the faces I was making. "She broke up with me because she hated me being gone all the time. She wanted me to choose her over my music, but," those pale gray eyes looked into mine, "I don't know. It didn't seem like the right thing to do. I didn't want to do it. She knew before we started dating what I did for a living; it wasn’t a surprise. I haven't wanted to date anyone since her, because I don't want to get stuck in that type of relationship again, I guess."
The idea that someone, specifically Ronalda, would ask Sacha to quit on his dream and his incredible talent to fight off her loneliness, made my heart churn. His gift didn't deserve to fade away, and those selfish reasons made me burn. "I think someone who really loves you wouldn't ask you to give up what you love, what you were meant to do," I told him in such an even voice it shocked me.
He smiled at me and nodded. "I think the same thing, Princess."
"I'll meetyou in twenty," Sacha whispered into my ear as we were getting off the van after a very late dinner in Geelong.
It was a mutual decision that both of us would shower before he came over to my room every night, even though I would have gladly let him shower in my room. With me.
Not that I would ever make the offer out loud but there was nothing wrong with simply thinking about it. That night in Perth, where he'd stayed until close to five in the morning, had just been the beginning. What followed were five consecutive nights of sitting in my room with a handsome, showered and delicious-smelling man.
Unfortunately and unsurprisingly, it was pretty innocent. We sat on the bed and talked a lot, watched television and ragged on each other for our likes and dislikes. When I told him that I'd seenMy Girlabout a million times, he'd rolled his eyes so far back I was worried those pretty irises would stay there. When he told me he’d seen all of theTransformersmovies in person at least six times, and even sat in line for twenty-four hours to catch the first showing of one, I stared at him blankly.
The thing that killed me the most about our friendship was that the more I learned about Sacha, the more I liked him. I liked that he volunteered at a pet shelter, that he knew how to play four different instruments, and that he had a pet turtle named Mercury that Julian’s brother babysat when he was on tour. I thought it was amazing that he worked at a studio as a session pianist and back-up singer when he was home. The bastard was sweet and thoughtful, and he laughed at my jokes and my embarrassing stories.
This huge, blinding forest fire of happiness filled my chest when I was around him. While it should have been a beautiful thing that I liked him as much as I did, it wasn't. I had no idea where things stood between us. We were definitely friends; that was blatantly obvious. I loved spending time with him because he had this way about him that always put me in a good mood but…
I wasn’t sure whether there was actually somethingmore. Our joking could be considered flirting. He spent more time with me than he did with anyone else by multiples. When we were at the venues and he wasn't busy, he'd began coming to visit the merch table even if he had to wear a hoodie to avoid getting mobbed by fans.
This, us, was so complicated.
I didn't want to assume anything, so I didn't. After all, he'd mentioned Ronalda as his ex, but I couldn't help but remember that conversation that I'd overheard. Then there was his comment when we’d been in the car back in Philadelphia about how he’d told her something about it not being the right time to talk about whatever. Was there something else that could possibly be going on? I had no fucking idea, and I sure as hell wasn't going to ask.
Pushing those thoughts out of my head, I skipped to my room and showered as quickly as possible so I could be ready for my nightly visitor. Was it a little desperate? Maybe. But I didn't care. It wasn’t like anyone saw me.
The knock on my door came just a couple minutes after I finished smothering lotion all over my skin. "What's the password?" I asked walking toward the door.
"Gaby is the princess of the universe."
I snorted. My hands paused on the deadbolt as I smiled to myself. "Anddddd…?" I asked, just to be a pest. Like what he said wasn’t enough.
There was a pause. "I have cookies."
"Bingo!" I unlocked the bolt and didn't even bother ushering Sacha in. He did his usual routine, kicking off shoes, peeling off his hoodie and plopping onto his side of the bed.
He tossed over a packet of cookies he had more than likely bought at the vending machine. "Save me half of one," he requested sweetly, wiggling his butt onto the mattress to try and get comfortable.
I nodded at him, already tearing the package open before jumping on the other side of the bed. I had to crawl with the cookies in my mouth over to a spot right by his chest, where I crossed my legs. He looked over and patted a spot slightly closer to him. “Come keep me warm.”
He could have put a jacket on, but I didn’t remind him of that.
The small part of my brain that still hadn’t recognized he was my friend and only my friend, wanted to say that if he wanted to, he could crawl under the sheets, but only someone with an IQ of 20 would say that to him.
I also could have messed with the thermostat in the room but… nope.
In hindsight, what I should have done was turn down the air even more so I could give him a reason to cuddle. I didn't do that either though.
What I did was scoot closer to him. So close he reached out to palm my knee. I stared at his hand and kept my mouth closed despite knowing how stupid it was.
Sacha flipped through channels with one hand at the same time the other one patted my kneecap while I ate the sweet vanilla cookies he'd brought. I was more focused on his long fingers rubbing my legging-covered legs than the movie he'd put on.
"Do you have any Chapstick?" he asked me a second later.
I moved my head in the direction of my backpack, which was sitting on the floor right next to him. "Top pocket," I answered in as lady-like a way as I could without spitting crumbs all over the place.
He nodded, reaching over the edge of the bed to grab my backpack and planted it on his lap to search through it. The top pocket was unzipped and he reached in, looked at whatever he was holding and made a face. "What's this?" he asked, holding something out.
