Fuck, that’s hot.
Should I make himmorejealous?
“Is she another ex? Is she…” He’s looking over at the stage, where the last band’s just finished, and the flash of lights on his face in profile reveals a storm.
Maybe I’m too honest for my own good. “She’s nothing like that. She’s just a friend.”
“Just a friend who kisses you on the lips?”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s a little more complicated…”
“Complicated how?” He moves to the alcove of the window, where he sits with his arms folded, giving me a half side-eye.
But there’s space next to him.
As fucked up as it probably is, I like him mad at me. Maybe because it’s solid. Maybe because I really am an attention whore. Maybe I’ll look into therapy sometime.
When I sit next to him, I hold my beer on my thigh like it’s a shield, playing with the wet label. “It’s… so…” I take a sip. “So Jon’s… Amber’s…” Another sip.
He hasn’t said a word. His eyes are dark, and he’s watching my every move, that tension all about him.
“I don’t know how to explain it.”
“In the simplest way possible.”
“Okay. So. Amber and Shashi are… I don’t want to say ‘groupies’ because they’re more than that. But they’re groupies.”
He mulls over the words for a moment before his lips part. “Was he fucking her when he was with you?”
The words are harsh and don’t play around. That’s the scientist in him. And I like that. Usually. But I also don’t. Because it’s gone from the game of a jealous guy I like to acold and clinical lab table, ready for an autopsy. “Yeah, he was fucking both of us.” I rush to add, “But it wasn’t like you think.”
“And she’s okay with that, treating you like that?” He’s pissed off now, at the wrong person entirely. He should be pissed at me. I can’t even explain this. Not without explaining it. Which is pretty much the last thing I ever wanted to do.
“I’m okay with it,” is my perfectly pathetic attempt at calming him. “It’s just the way things were. It wasn’t just Amber, like you think. Or Shashi. It was whoever else was around. But often them… all of us. Um.”
When I can stand to glance over at him, he looks like someone’s dipped him in plastic, all pale and still and hard.
Jesus Christ. Way to turn him from jealous to repulsed.
“It was… J-Jon said…” I stutter out, ripping at my beer label. “See, he didn’t want to cheat on me, he said. So he wanted me there too. And then it was all aboveboard, you know? Because he couldn’t just be with one person because that’s not who he is. But you need to understand, he’s a rock star?—”
“He thinks he is.”
“He is. And I don’t know how much you know about the music industry?—”
“I know orgies aren’t part and parcel of the life or success of a band,” he virtually spits at me. “He used you. What the fuck, August? How can you let him treat you like that?”
“No, it’s not like that.”Fuck. Why am I even bothering to explain this? He looks about as angry as I’ve felt with myself for so long now. And here I am defending Jon, and August’s eyes are pure rage. “God, you hate me now.”
“I don’t!”
But before either of us can say another word, “August!” Amber’s in the room, Shashi leaning in the doorway, staring at August with that intense look of hers. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. He needs you.”
What the fuck now?
She manages to get me standing with the sharp tug she gives me, but I plant my feet firmly. “I’m busy. Tell him I can’t come.”
She wrenches me again, and I step back to fight her off while she rattles out, “No, no, you don’t understand. He’s refusing to go on stage until he sees you. He needs you to go back there and tell him it’s all good.”
