I caught up with Dean as well. I’d heard from Sabrina he’d gone on a bender earlier that summer. He showed me the tattoo of a scythe he’d gotten on his arm as motivation to stay on the straight and narrow, which reminded me of Seth’s tattoo and the fact that he still hadn’t mentioned it to me. I told myself to let it go.
The birthday boy arrived fashionably late to a crowd of adoring fans and an endless train of drinks and flirtations. I spied on him unseen from across the courtyard. The drugs must have been easy for him to come by these days. The rock star lifestyle couldn’t be good for his mental or physical health, which worried me. I observed from afar as Seth charmed his admirers with his wit and intelligence. I could tell by the way everyone waited for him to speak before contributing their own opinions, how his potential lovers positioned themselves to be near him, looking for any excuse to touch him.
How did I think I’d ever be able to compete?
Rather than pursue this masochistic exercise, I took my now warm beer and sat at the bottom of the stairwell to one of the apartment buildings like the troll under the bridge, chatting with whatever inebriated individual happened upon me. At around 3 a.m. I was considering bailing on Sabrina and going home. My mom had let me borrow her car, so I didn’t have to stick around if I didn’t feel like it. I had just texted Sabrina to let her know I was leaving when Seth appeared in front of me like a magician. Poof. He must have tossed at least some of the drinks he’d been given because he looked entirely sober.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he said. “Did you see my texts?”
My phone was still in my hand, so there was no getting around it.
“This is your night. I didn’t want to monopolize your time.”
He gave me the look that said,bullshit,and I smiled at his ability to read me like a book.
“Why don’t we get out of here?” Seth jerked his thumb behind him. “24-Hour Diner?”
I couldn’t resist a greasy breakfast from our favorite restaurant, and it seemed a safe enough place for Seth and me to talk. I still didn’t know why it was so important to him that I was there that night, other than to witness their success and his fabulousness, which, if that was all, I’d already fulfilled my duty.
“I need a ride,” Seth said.
“I have my mom’s car.”
It took forever for us to leave with Seth introducing me to all of his people, and everyone having to bid his majesty farewell. The attention couldn’t be good for his already overdeveloped ego. Several of his now legitimate groupies looked at me with a mixture of jealousy and respect.
“Why does it feel like they all know who I am?” I asked Seth on our way out, thankful for the non-smoky night air and blessed quiet.
“I talk about you a lot,” he said shiftily. “And Insta.”
I hadn’t checked his Instagram in months. He must be posting old pictures of us. I found it flattering and a little strange.
We didn’t say much in the car on our ride to the diner. Both of us were thinking up a game plan. In our relationship, I’d always been the one reacting to Seth, never putting forth my own demands, so now placed in this position, I didn’t know what I wanted from our exchange. Foolishly, part of me thought we were really just going to catch up.
Inside the diner, we stared across the booth at each other like we’d encountered a new species. After ordering our food, Seth thanked me again for saving his ass back at The Tomahawk.
“That’s never happened to me,” he marveled. “I never froze up like that before.”
“It was a big crowd,” I said with sympathy.
“Yeah,” he said like he was still processing it. “Thank God you were there.”
I smiled a little. I did feel good about that.
“What if I can’t do this, Hiroku? What if we’re not any good?”
It didn’t happen often, but every once in a while, Seth would get a panicked look about him, as if he’d just woken up to find himself standing naked in the hallway. Imposter’s Syndrome, he’d told me was the name for it, and it was an artist’s worst nightmare.
I leveled him with my eyes as I’d done back at the club. “You’re already doing it, Seth. You played out tonight at the freaking Tomahawk, and you killed it. You and Sabrina, Mitchell and Dean. You guys are working hard. You’re organized, committed, and you’ve never sounded better as a band. Don’t let a touch of stage fright mess with your master plan.”
He nodded with renewed confidence. In the same way I trusted him to give me honest feedback about my art, he trusted me to be honest with him about their music. He demanded it, in fact, ever since that first time he asked me what I thought of his band. He’d trained me to properly venerate him for his magnificence and to know when his magnificence was waning. “Your moon is a waxing gibbous,” I told him, knowing he’d understand.
He smiled. He was susceptible to flattery, but he knew that I didn’t give it without good reason.
“Thank you for coming out tonight, Hiroku.”
“You’re welcome.”
I lost myself in his gaze as he scrutinized me again, trying to get in my head. I felt my mind growing pliant while under the table my dick was getting hard. I knew what that look meant. He’d never been shy about letting me know he wanted me. So, that was still a thing.
