We bunch together. Flash. Done. Within seconds, he’s posted it. I glance down at my drink, and that’s when I notice her hand, on my knee. I didn’t even feel it. When did that happen? The drink tastes sour all of a sudden.
“Can you not?” I shout over the music.
Rithy looks at me like I’m being dramatic. “What? I did the little veil stickers over the faces like youdemand. Though, it hardly matters anymore, what’s the problem?”
I just stare at him. “You knowexactlywhat you’re doing.”
Kiri laughs from across the table. “Chill,Rafe. Have some fun. You’re not in Seattle anymore.”
“That’s the point,” I snap back, and their glances tell me I’ve just confirmed more than I wanted to.
Ronan stands then, ever the peacemaker, grabs both models’ hands and introduces himself with a grin before motioning at me.
“Come on, keep me company for a sec. Need a poet's help with this text to the lady friend. Swedish women are impossible to please.”
Kiri shouts, “Think that applies toallof ’em!” The table erupts in laughter as Ronan slings an arm around my shoulders and steers me away.
I follow him through the crowd, down the narrow hall that leads to the smokers’ terrace. The cold air hits, thick with tobacco and mint vapor. He turns to me, grinning.
“Go back to the hotel, call her. Don’t let Rithy drag you into his circus. I’ll cover for you, tell them you felt sick and left. Sound good?”
I exhale, the tension finally breaking. “I could kiss you.”
He smirks. “Save it for the stage. Wouldn’t want to steal you from your doctor. All this Irish sexual magnetism.”
We both laugh. I clap him on the shoulder, head for the exit, and step into the night, lighter.
I fumble the keycard twice before it finally clicks. I drop my jacket on the chair, kick off my boots, and start pacing. The silence feels wrong, too wide. I pull my phone out and call her before I can overthink it. It rings, and rings. Then the line dies.
I stare at the screen until it goes dark, then open my feed, and there it is, Rithy’s post. The photo from the club. Me beside a model in a dress that might as well be spray paint, her hand on my knee.Jesus.
I froze when she opened up to me and withintwenty-four hoursI look like this, partying in Berlin, acting like none of it matters. If I were her, I wouldn’t answer either. I drag a hand down my face, and sit on the edge of the bed. My body feels too burdensome for itself. I slide down until I’m on the floor, head tipped back against the mattress, phone in my hand, pressed to my mouth like it might help me breathe. Then it vibrates, she’s calling.
I fumble the answer button. “Hey.”
Her voice fills the line, a little tired, but still the best thing I’ve ever heard.
“Sorry, just got in,” she says. “I was unpacking. Busy day tomorrow, clinic, all the usual.”
The sound of her voice hits me like air after nearly drowning. I close my eyes, laugh under my breath, almost choking on it. “I—It’s just good to hear your voice.”
She pauses. The silence on her end feels full of meaning. “Are you okay?”
“No. Not in the slightest.” I sit up and lean forward. “Listen, please. You deserve better than me saying it over the phone, so I’ll save it until I see you again. But just know—I feel it too. I did.I do.I just—”
“No need for excuses,” she interrupts. “It was just—”
“It wasn’tjustanything,” I cut in fast. “Don’t take it back.Fuck.I might cancel the tour if you do.” Silence follows. I can picture her standing still, blinking, trying to decide what to do with that. I laugh, but it’s covering what could be classed as a mental breakdown. “God, listen to me.I sound insane.”
She exhales, and the sound cracks something in me, “Are you drunk?”
That makes me laugh for real, deep, and loud until I’m wiping at my eyes. “No. I’ve had a few drinks though. Rithy cornered me with some incredibly boring supermodel and I downed a few to make it tolerable.”
“Incredibly boringsupermodel?” she repeats, amused now.
“Trust me, I was trying not to yawn. I escaped to call you, they’re all still there. All I wanted to do was leave.”
“To listen to me talk about my clinic and unpacking?”
