16. Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
Jordan
Peach is pushing his fucking luck.
I’m going to break his nose on purpose this time .
His arms tighten around Mac and his head lays on my drummer’s shoulder, and I’ve got one foot planted on the makeshift dance floor before my brain finally catches up.
What am I doing?
My chest pumps with the breath I force.
What if someone like Peach won’t make him seem so dull?
Everything in me freezes except my clenching fists.
What if he’s meant to—
“Guys. Guys! ”
Breaking myself out of the trance the drummer keeps pulling me into, I turn in time to catch Leo making his way to the center of the dance floor, his phone in his hand.
There’s elation lining his normally stoic face, his grin huge as he grabs onto the shoulders and arms of the guys around him.
“We’re going overseas, boys!”
The news rings like a hammer fist straight to the temple after a five-round match.
“Shut the fuck up,” someone yells in disbelief, but Leo just shakes his head.
“It’s happening, motherfuckers. We’re starting in Germany.”
A European tour.
My stomach turns.
New places and venues. New fans and security protocols.
New. New. New.
My throat feels thick when I watch Mac wrap his arms around Peach and swing him around. My stomach clenches painfully when his smile is light and genuine and aimed right at the other bodyguard. And then at his bandmates and manager.
It’s not until his seeking sight lands on me and drops that I feel the knife sink right into the center of my chest.
It’s me.
I’m the switch that kills his brightness.
He comes to me through the crowd, squeezing past bodies with a furrow in his brow and a tightness to his features.
I can’t keep doing this to him.
“Tyro,” he mutters, stopping just short of me, his throat bobbing with a swallow. “Did you hear Leo?”
He deserves a better friend.
I dip my chin in affirmation.
One that doesn’t wake up with a stiffy in his back.
“That’s cool … right? We’re going abroad.”
One that’s not confusing friendship and sexuality with loneliness.
He forces a smile that I return and it’s like he can already tell.
Someone that’s gonna light him up, not tear him down.
“Yeah,” I lie. “It’s good.”
I clear my throat, though it does nothing to loosen the muscles hellbent on choking me to death.
He deserves this. A chance. A fresh start.
Without me killing his light.
I nod even though he hasn’t said anything else.
He deserves to find that.
He playfully pushes at my tense shoulder that barely moves, his hand dropping to his side.
“Yeah,” I say again, though I don’t feel any bit of it. “It’ll be fun.”
For you.