I felt sick. Sacha cared about me too. I knew he did. Every vessel in my blood knew it. But maybe that's why he hadn't put more of a move on me? Because he didn't want to be tied down to anyone? A simple kiss wasn’t a promise ring or anything. It didn’t have to mean anything romantic. And… there was a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. I knew that.
My realization and acceptance from the night before was strangling. I was in love with a man who maybe loved me according to others, but maybe didn't love me the way that I wanted. Maybe he didn’t want a relationship. I had men in my life that loved me in a platonic way. What was one more? And why did I feel betrayed that he still cared about Ariel Number Two? Sacha was a nice guy. Hell, he was the nicest guy I had ever met. It was probably just in his system to care for people, but…
I reached over Eli's big body to grab the backpack he had on his lap, and fished out his expensive studio earphones, plugging them into my phone as quickly as I could as I zoned out the man on the phone. Flicking through the albums I had saved in my library, I chose the one at the top of the list and raised the volume as loud as tolerable.
Closing my eyes, I let my head drop back to the seat and put a hand on each of the guys beside me.
Chapter Twenty-One
Isleptmy way to Dubai, and somehow managed to make it to London without speaking more than twenty words to Sacha. Most importantly, I didn’t fall asleep on his legs and he didn’t nap on mine. When we caught our connecting flight, it turned out that he was sharing a seat with a stranger so I sat with my brother and Gordo instead. Gordo—who had heard the same conversation I had—didn't say a word. It was the red Starburst he gave me later on that really showed his sympathy.
When we finally landed in London, the promoter for the tour drove us in a Sprinter van to a hotel where we'd be staying for the night. A new tour bus would be picking us up the next day.
I made an effort to stand and sit away from my gray-eyed friend. My mood was pretty rotten, and I felt pretty groggy from the jetlag. As excited as I'd been about going to Europe, I didn't feel like doing a freaking thing on our first day off. Everyone was so relieved to be on land again, and I definitely wasn't going to be the party pooper in the bunch bringing everybody else down.
If my good mood were a raft named Gaby, it seemed like it was on the verge of sinking.
Eli had waved me off when I got settled in my room and said he'd be back for me later, regardless of whether I wanted to go somewhere or not. He knew something was bothering me, but he was smart enough to know not to ask about it until later. Even though he'd inherited the Barreto temper from our mom, bits and pieces of it were still etched into my chromosomes. He was well aware of what to expect when I was in a slump.
What I didn't take into consideration was that Sacha had gotten to know me as well.
When a knock sounded on my door a couple of hours after we'd been dropped off, I didn't bother asking who was there because I'd assumed it was Eliza. Only it wasn't.
"You didn't ask for the password," Sacha said with a frown when the door was opened.
I shrugged and held it wider for him to come in. "I thought you were Eli," I answered him simply.
"Oh." Sacha eyed me critically as he stepped into the tiny room. He'd showered since the last time I'd seen him, dressed in jeans and a white V-neck. He dropped his long body onto my bed, propping himself up with his elbows. "What are we doing today?"
Closing the door, I turned to look at him while attempting to ease the thunder going on in my heart. "I was planning on staying in."
"I thought you wanted to walk around?" He raised a dark eyebrow.
Another shrug. "Maybe tomorrow, I'm tired. I'm sure someone else can go out with you."
Sacha just blinked at me. “I want to go with you.”
No, no, no, no, no. I smiled at him. “I’m sure you’ll have just as much fun with someone else.”
He stared at me for so long in silence I wasn’t sure he was ever going to respond until he finally did. His question cool and controlled. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Gaby."
I gave him the weakest smile in existence. "I'm just pooped and groggy, and my head really hurts."
He blinked again. "When did it start hurting?”
My shoulders went up. “Earlier, before the first flight.”Right after I heard you tell another woman you cared about her.
He grumbled rolling up to sit on his bottom. He rubbed his hands up and down his pant legs. The look on his face was enough of a warning. “Tell me what's wrong. You're being weird."
"I'm fine," I pleaded. "I just want to be alone right now."
Those pale eyes twitched in disbelief and possibly hurt. "Don't do this to me again."
"What?" I asked him even though I already knew what he was trying to hint at.
