“You’re a pain in the ass. I’m not hiding anything.”
“You were off today while performing, and that only happens when you’re worried about something.”
Stop the witchery, woman.“I was just nostalgic, thinking about how much we’ve grown these last few years.”
“Yeah…” She smiled sweetly, letting go of him. “But I can tell something is bothering you.”
“I wish I knew what it is.” Chris shrugged, bringing the cold drink to his lips and finishing it in another long swig.
“You aren’t mad about Ingrid anymore?”
“What?” He quirked a brow.
“We’ve never talked about it, but I know you dumped her for me.”
“You’re imagining things.” She wasn’t.
“Chris, I know you.” Intense and loving hazel-green eyes locked on his.
His chest tightened.
When his parents had finally signed their divorce papers years before, although his mother had said it was for the best, she couldn’t help the sadness that took hold of her heart and mind.
The guitarist thought he might lose his mom to depression when she’d become a bag of skin and bones who spent the days blankly staring into the distance. It was the toughest thing he’d ever witnessed. So, in fear of losing someone else or himself, because talking about it physically hurt, he’d crawled into a hole where it was him and his conscience alone.
For a long time after that, Chris had tried to open up, but he couldn’t. Ignoring and burying his feelings had become a habit, an intrinsic part of him, a comfort zone that felt too cozy to leave. But Leah saw right through him.
“Nah. Never been mad with you for that. It was my decision. I just hate that I haven’t fucked anyone since—” His eyes widened at the realization. “Holy fuck! I haven’t fucked anyone in…” He counted with his fingers. “Seven fucking weeks. The fuck?”
The longest he had gone without touching or being touched by someone had been one month since he’d lost his virginity at thirteen. But to be fair, he hadn’t been in the right state of mind lately. Maybe what had happened to Leah was affecting him more than he thought, or maybe he was getting sick.
Ugh. Not now. We got a festival to blow up.
Thinking about it, though, what had really happened was that Ingrid had become sickeningly clingy. He used to get bored of almost everyone and everything super fast, but this woman had something that his brain seemed to like enough to keep her around. However, when she’d started telling him shit like Leah didn’t need him fluttering around all day, that she herself also needed attention and he wasdatingher not his friend, Chris shut her out—bros before hoes. No pussy deserved so much attention, no matter the crazy things she did in bed. Besides, the band had been so busy, and him so exhausted, that his sex drive had been all over the place.
All that mixed with not having stopped for a second since they had landed in New York must have been what made him feel so unbalanced.
Yeah, that was it. He wasn’t getting sick.Good.
“Oh, careful or you’ll die, or worse, your dick will fall off from the lack of sex,” Leah mocked.
“Jesus! Don’t even joke about that.” He squirmed in his seat, covering his crotch.
“Are you for real?” She chuckled. “Losing your dick is worse than dying?”
“Dude, if I’m dead, I’m dead. But being alive without being able to get my dick wet, just no.”
Leah gaped for a second while staring at him, then grimaced. “I was going to say you had a point, but you’re simply disgusting.”
“Maybe you could teach me your nun ways so I can survive without sex for a while.” Chris delivered the witty response with a grin, putting his palms together as he bowed his head. “Please, Sister.”
She flipped him off. “Sit and spin.”
She wasn’t celibate at all. Her shattered bed after a wild night with Søren was proof of that. But since she’d broken up with the Norseman, she had become an amoeba.
“You need to get laid.”
“No, I don’t.”
