“What?” Sweet and laid-back Marc almost snarled, the vein in his temple palpitating with violence.
“She needs to learn to do the math,” Chris muttered.
“So you didn’t know,” the drummer stated, grey eyes scrutinizing them.
“What the fuck, dude? You think if we knew what she’s been doing, we wouldn’t have done something sooner?” The guitarist raised a brow, earning a shrug in response. “If you keep doubting us, I’m gonna beat that pretty ass of yours to teach you a lesson or two.” He couldn’t stay serious for too long, especially when he understood where all this lack of confidence was coming from.
“Eh… Okay. Fair.” Erik got up, face twisted in a funny scowl as he walked towards the mini fridge. “Want a beer?”
“Please, sweet cheeks.”
“You sure you aren’t into dudes?” Marc quipped.
“You wish,” Chris teased back, leaning his shoulder against the bassist’s, pouting. “But sorry, nope.”
“And you’re telling me that with such a slutty face?” Marc chuckled.
Chris roared with laughter. “Listen, Goldilocks Kramer over here has a great ass for a dude. Not ashamed of admitting that.” He gestured at the drummer, who was shaking his head. “But please, gimme all the pussies.”
Marc scrunched his nose. “You can be so disgusting.”
“Not a news flash,” Chris responded unapologetically.
Like Erik had very well guessed, they’d asked him to come earlier so they could hang out for a bit. Just the three of them. And that’s exactly what they did.
For others, wallowing in their misery indefinitely worked. That just wasn’t for them. It could be because they had the emotional intelligence of rocks, but this was what helped them—dirty jokes, friends, and beer.
After an hour of laughing at the stupidest things, Chris started wondering if their vocalist would show up. It’d be better if she didn’t, really. Erik’s smiles weren’t reaching his eyes—they probably wouldn’t for a while—but he seemed more relaxed, more himself, than when he’d arrived.
Then the door opened again.
Cold silence filled every particle in the air.
“Hey!” Hannah waved, dropping her coat beside Marc, completely oblivious to the atmosphere. “So…” She bit her bottom lip, side-glancing at Erik, who was currently gritting his teeth with so much force Chris swore he could hear them cracking. “Are we going to rehearse or what?” She offered a tight-lipped smile when none of the guys made a single movement and simply stayed there, staring at her.
One, two, three…
Her expression changed from innocent to the wicked witch Chris had always seen in her.
With her brow furrowed, and Hannah turned towards Erik. “You told them?” she asked, offended. “You had no right! What happened is between you and me.”
“Sorry, but no,” Marc deadpanned, the faux-leather fabric of the couch squeaking as he got up.
“Excuse me?”
“Of course, what happens in a relationship is no one else’s business, but in this case, it’sa bitdifferent.” The bassist was being quite civil given the situation, but Chris didn’t miss the dash of condescension in his last words. “What you did affects all of us and the dynamics in the band.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hannah crossed her arms over her chest, her glare bouncing from one man to the next, stopping longer than necessary on Erik.
“You’re out,” Marc said with impassive calmness.
Hannah snorted. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No. You screwed up, and if things weren’t already a little tense between you and Chris”—his gaze shifted to the guitarist for a quick moment, then returned to her—“with this… We don’t think it’ll work.”
“And how exactly do you plan to make it work without me? I’m the one who brings attention to the band.”
“We already did that before you joined.”
