Chris obviously picks up what I put down because he leaves with a wave over his shoulder. When I turn to Nolan, he’s already got the burger half unwrapped and is delightfully stuffing his face.
“What?” Nolan asks around a mouthful of food.
I shake my head to stop myself from saying something disgustingly sweet likeyou’re cuteorI think I really like youoryou terrify me when you abruptly pull away.
Grabbing my own bag, I open it to find a burger, chicken nuggets, and fries. Bless your heart, Chris. We eat quietly despite Nolan reaching over to take one of my nuggets. Normally I hatesharing food with people, but I don’t mind so much when Nolan steals my food. He needs it more than me.
“Hey, what’s your favorite flavor of Jolly Rancher?”
“Cherry,” Nolan mumbles while stuffing a fistful of fries into his mouth.
“Best flavor,” I murmur in agreement.
Nolan lifts one eyebrow. “Your favorite too?”
“Yeah, all the others taste like?—”
“Cough syrup,” Nolan interrupts me.
I huff out a laugh. “Well, yeah.”
Nolan tosses himself back on the sofa with a pleased sigh. He pats his stomach a few times, eyes closed, head tipped back against the plush pillows. Nolan pops one eye halfway open to look at me.
“Are you an exclusive top or…”
I shrug. He doesn’t need to know I’ve onlyevertopped. “Mostly.”
“So you’re vers?”
“Eh… I prefer to top.”
Nolan sighs softly. “Good, I prefer to bottom. Lie back and let someone else do all the work.”
“Obviously,” I say under my breath.
Nolan stands from the sofa with a huff. He shakes out his limbs, twists his neck a few times, then looks down his nose at me. “I think I’ll get to the arena early tonight. I want to perform a song that’s not on the setlist. I’ll need the time to practice.”
“Okay,” I say in confusion.
Nolan trudges off to the bedroom to put on his practice clothes. I busy myself by cleaning up the mess from our impromptu lunch. When I wander back to the bedroom, Nolan is standing with the heels of his palms pressed to his eyes.
“Nolan?”
Nolan removes his hands and spins to look at me. “It’s fine.”
But he’s clearly not fine. The tension in his shoulders is back and the happy, full-of-food guy from a moment before is gone. I cross the distance between us and tug him into my arms, kissing him softly until he melts against me. His breaths are soft and slow when I pull away, his eyes only open enough to show a peek of the dark brown irises.
“It’s fine,” Nolan repeats, that weird edge to his voice now gone.
I squeeze his shoulders and rub my thumbs over the tense line of his neck. He leans heavier against me for one single moment, before pulling away to finish getting dressed. The ride to the arena is silent, but Nolan’s fingers tangle with mine, so I don’t take it personally. Sometimes he needs silence more than me.
The arena is bustling as the crew gets the stage ready for the concert in a handful of hours. Nolan bypasses the VIP room downstairs to head straight for the stage. His band stands with wide eyes, probably wondering why the fuck Nolan is a few hours early.
“I want to add a song tonight,” Nolan declares, chin lifted defiantly in the air.
“What?” Chris asks from beside me, voice frantic.
I shrug helplessly. “He just told me back at the hotel.”
