Marc flashed her a smirk, but it soon faded. “The thing is…” He looked down at his bass while still strumming its strings.
He didn’t like talking about his sexual adventures and exposing such private stuff to others—not names, positions, or explicit, kinky things he had done—but he was emotionally exhausted. And honestly, it wouldn’t be that bad to vent with Leah. She’d known all along about his crush on Chris and hadn’t said anything.
Sighing, Marc raised his head and continued. “We’ve always had one chick each, then shared and switched. Never interacted with each other more than necessary, you know, to coordinate. Last night was the first time we were so, hmm… close.”
“You mean, like you two…” With the bottle of water still in her hands, Leah crossed her index fingers and rubbed them together, ripping a loud laugh out of him.
“No, no.” He shook his head, grinning. “We didn’t even kiss but, well, yeah, there was some touching.”
“And?”
“Nothing. That’s it.”
Leah frowned slightly and pursed her lips. “Have you talked to him?”
“At breakfast and while we were setting everything up this morning, but not about this.” Marc got up and walked over to where his bass stand was. “He’s been like always.”
“That’s good, no?”
A defeated puff of air left Marc’s lungs. “I wanna think it is, but it’s also Chris we’re talking about. He’s a motherfucker and so hard to read sometimes. So I don’t know anymore.”
“Maybe you could try tackling the topic yourself?” she said as she stood up and dusted her shorts off.
“Hello, have you met him?” Marc snorted, running his fingers through his hair and slicking it back. “You know how reticent and uncommunicative he is when it comes to talking about his own feelings and awkward shit.”
“You gotta try.” Leah paused, frowning a little again when she approached. “It’s not only the band at stake here. Don’t even care about that now. It’s your heart and feelings that could suffer a hard blow if things go down the wrong path or if he says something out of line.” The bassist looked at her, his eyes shifting between hers, which were filled with affection and concern. “Marc, I adore you for being so considerate and trying not to push it so his emotional-conflict-avoider ass doesn’t run away. But you deserve to be happy, and as much as I love Chris, if you don’t talk things through and clear up whatever doubts or weirdness he might be hiding, he could end up hurting you, eventually.”
“I know.”
“If he still misbehaves after you two talk, I’ll kill him myself and bury his body in my dad’s backyard.”
The bassist chuckled. “Thanks, Jäger.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple.
Leah hugged his waist, making him feel safe and loved. She had a talent for this.
“Always.”
SometimesMarcfeltlikethe days were endless. Others, it all moved too quickly. Like today. He’d been wishing the concert, the interview, and the hanging out with everyone lasted forever. But nope. Hours had ticked away as fast as seconds. And here they were now Chris, Erik, and Marc, playing Mortal Kombat, trying to defeat the guitarist who seemed to know every fucking trick to pummel the other two to the ground while the rest of the crew were already in bed.
“Stop that, dude,” the drummer protested.
“Make me.”
“You’ve been repeating the same movement and cornering me the entire battle, you asshole.” Erik pressed the buttons as if his life depended on it.
“Sorry, not sorry.”
“Fuck you!” He got up, tossing the controller on the couch as his character flew, only to crash against the ground.
“Such a sore loser,” Chris teased. “But also, how can you be so lame. Aren’t your hands supposed to be money makers?”
Stumbling when the bus took a curve, Erik showed him the middle finger. “I’m off to bed,” he said as he slid open the door to the bunks area. “Night fuckers.”
Chris laughed. “And once again, I’m the king.”
“You’re the king of shit,” Marc clipped.
“You get better at it and I’ll stop bragging,” the guitarist said as he walked over to the fridge. “Want another beer?”
