“She’s great!” I argued.
“I thought you like hard rock.”
“I have diverse music tastes. I like everything.”
“Even country?”
“Some. It’s not my favorite genre, but there are a few artists who break the mold. I dislike the generic country music that’s only about beer and trucks, though.”
“We call that Stadium Country Music,” Riot replied. “And since you hate it, I can tolerate your other tastes. Like that red splotch on the wall by the window.”
“Hey! That’s art!”
“It’s a square with two colors.”
“Modern art is still art. My friend painted that for me. She sells her artwork online for thousands of dollars.”
“There’s a sucker born every day.”
I started sputtering a response to him, and he laughed and pulled me closer. “I’m just pushing your buttons. You’re cute when you’re offended.”
“Glad you’ve learned what my buttons are,” I said.
“And not just the buttons that annoy you.” His hand drifted over my thigh, edging closer to the spot between my legs.
“Nope,” I replied. “I’m officially sexed out for the evening.”
“I was willing to go again if you were, but yeah. I think I’m all tapped out.”
“What are your Thanksgiving plans?” I asked. “For the whole break, not just the holiday. You told me you were sticking around Austin, but nothing more than that.”
“Nothing planned. Figured I’ll see what happens.”
That felt like an invitation, so I said, “I’m catching up with friends while I’m home, and I have a lot of graphics design work to do, but otherwise my calendar is clear. You and I could have a lot of fun. You’re welcome to hang here with me as much as you want.”
“I’m actually looking forward to the solitude,” Riot replied in an even tone. “I need to recharge my batteries after being on the tour bus for two months. My creative juices really flow when I have a big chunk of time alone, too.”
“Ah, okay.” I started to suggest that we hang out next weekend, giving him a full week alone, but then he said something else.
“I’ll see you when we pick up the tour again.”
Riot left a little while later, and then I was alone in my apartment for the first time since September. An overwhelming sense of sadness washed over me, tinged with the hurt of rejection.
Why didn’t Riot want to be around me?
It shouldn’t have bothered me, except that I’d spent the last few days fantasizing about the two week break and how Riot and I would spend it. I’d pictured a lot of nights just like this one, making love until we couldn’t move and then lazily lounging around without anything on the schedule.
It made me spiral about what was going to happen after the tour was over in December. Would Riot—and the other two bandmates I was sleeping with—want to continue things with me?
Or were they expecting our sexy fun to end with the tour?
“Hold on one second,” Meghan said at Thanksgiving. She had a bowl of mashed potatoes in her arm while I was making a greenbean casserole. “He doesn’t want to see youat allduring the break?”
“Nope.”
“Not even, like, for lunch? Or coffee? Or dinner one night?”
“Is that bad?” I asked.
