Chapter 11
Theo
I fly off the mattress with a gasp, heart thundering behind my ribcage as I blindly search the darkness. In an attempt to hide from the black night, I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on the rise and fall of my lungs, letting my brain catch up to the fact that it was only a dream.
This is the third night in a row I’ve done a full reenactment of Frankenstein’s monster.
Memories keep me awake longer than normal, and then when I finally drift off, nightmares of being chased through endless hallways haunt me.
In all of them, I’m fleeing an unseen danger I can never outrun.
Every time, I push my body until my legs give out, and the second I collapse, my eyes snap open.
I hate that he still has this grip on me.
The bouncers removed Jesse from the property that night, and no one has seen or heard from him since. Dante and Tai both pleaded with me to press charges, but I only want to erase the memory of what happened. I’ve never spent my life dwelling, and like hell I’m going to start because of this.
The rest of the event went off without a hitch, though my eyes were still bloodshot when we rejoined the masses. The lights were dim enough that no one noticed—or if they did, they probably just assumed I’d been doing coke in a closet.
Musicians, amiright?
Our numbers are looking great from the release, steadily climbing the rankings.
The album itself hasn’t cracked the top hundred yet, but one of our singles reached number eighty-six on the charts.
While that might not seem significant to outsiders, for us it’s monumental.
It’s a real, tangible sign that the years of grinding are finally paying off.
I should be out there celebrating, not cowering under my blankets.
I drag a hand over my face, trying to shake off the lingering dread.
The room is quiet except for the low hum of the heat and the faint city noise filtering through the window.
I sit up, back against the headboard, knees drawn to my chest, and stare at the sliver of streetlight cutting across the floor.
Three nights. Three nights of the same chase, the same collapse, the same jolt awake. I’m exhausted—bone-deep tired—but sleep feels like a trap I keep walking into.
I reach for my phone and glance at the time to find it’s barely five in the morning.
The shadows under my eyes are going to need a second layer of concealer if I get up now, but I know if I stay in bed, I’ll just stare at the back of my eyelids for the next three hours.
I get up, wrap my robe around my shoulders, and grab the book from my nightstand.
Monster smut has become my latest obsession. I curl up on the couch, crack open the pages, and lose myself in the story, waiting for the tension to finally snap between the unsuspecting human and the horned monster with the twelve-inch cock. I scoff as I read the descriptions.
Why are authors so obsessed with a foot-long shlong?
I toss the robe aside and look down at my wonderfully average penis. “You’re perfect just as you are,” I say aloud, giving myself a little pat. “Honestly, twelve inches just sounds like a horrible nuisance. Where does it even go?”
This is how I end up on the couch with a tape measure, trying to figure out exactly where twelve inches would land. When it rests past my belly button, I side-eye the book. That’s horrifying.
A knock jolts me out of my daydream. The tape measure whirs as it snaps back into its metal box, and my penis envy settles as I frown at the clock.
It’s barely seven. I walk over and peer through the peephole, but the hallway is empty.
The kids on my floor sometimes run through the halls on their way to school, but I double-check the deadbolt and chain anyway before I return to my book.
After a few more chapters, I decide to get out and run errands. I’m too tired to try hard today, so I throw on lounging clothes and head for the door. The moment my foot lands, an object under my shoe stops me short. I pick it up, twirling it in my hand.
It’s a black metal watch with a rose-gold face and tiny crystals marking the numbers. It’s delicate, and something I’d absolutely wear. I slide it into my pocket as I lock the door behind me.
Downstairs in the lobby, I walk to the concierge desk and tap the bell. “Hey, Theo!” Brenda says as she steps out of the office, sorting a handful of mail as she glances at me over her glasses.
“Morning, beautiful!” I pull the watch out and drop it on the desk. “Someone left this in front of my door earlier. They probably assumed it was mine, but whoever lost it will want it back.”
She picks it up, turns it over in her hands, then smiles at me. “You’re such a sweet boy, Theo. Most people would’ve just kept it.”
I wave my hand, dismissing the thought. “Karma is a bitch, and I don’t need anyone trying to outshine me as the biggest diva in the room.”
“I’ll put it in the lost and found in case somebody comes looking for it.”
“Thanks, angel face!”
She chuckles, calling after me as I turn to walk away. “You know, my granddaughter is single again.”
“Still very, very gay!” I shout back.
She laughs even louder. “Can’t blame me for trying.”
After a quick run by the bank and grocery store for a few staples, I spend the rest of my morning piecing together a few fun outfits at the thrift store before I make a stop at my favorite lingerie shop.
My panty addiction is officially a problem when the cashiers greet me by name, but there’s no shame in my game.
After filling a bag with pretty, shiny things, I grab an iced coffee and head to practice.
Practice goes smoothly, but I can’t shake the feeling that everyone is walking on eggshells around me. As I put my bass away, I feel eyes on me. “Quit watching me like you’re afraid I’ll fall apart like some fragile little flower.”
“There are countless words I could use to describe you,” Eric teases, “but fragile is not one of them.”
“Oh? Give me some examples.”
He presses his lips together and taps his forehead. “Sassy, for sure.”
“Naturally.”
“Pretty,” he says, adding a wink that makes Dmitri scoff and roll his eyes, like he’s not standing over there looking like a Greek god.
“Of course.”
“Confident and talented.”
“Oh, yeah, baby,” I say with an exaggerated moan and expectant wave of my hand. “Don’t stop now.”
Eric cocks a brow at me. “Are you planning on forcing me to compliment you for the rest of the day?”
“I wasn’t going to, but now that you’ve mentioned it, it seems like a superb idea. I think… yes, I think we shall. Continue.”
Dmitri lands at his side and slides an arm around him. “Seriously, though. Are you doing alright?”
My eyes shift beyond them to where Dante stands, not even trying to hide that he’s eavesdropping. “I’m getting there,” I finally say.
Eric nods, clapping me on the shoulder. “If you need anything—”
Dante’s head pops up between Eric and Dmitri. “Actually, Theo told me something you could probably help him with. Both of you, to be exact.”
My eyes widen, mouth dropping open as I stare at him.
Dmitri frowns slightly. “Of course, man. What is it?”
Mischief gleams in Dante’s eyes as he pretends to think. “What was it we were discussing the other day? It had something to do with France.”
“France?” Dmitri asks, glancing at Eric, who shrugs.
“Dante Barrera,” I say pointedly. All three heads whip toward me—two confused, one positively gleeful. “A wise man would stop while he’s ahead.” My finger slices across my throat in case I wasn’t clear enough.
Dante’s grin only widens, completely unbothered by my threats. “I’m just trying to help. You mentioned that Eiffel Tower dream, and I figured these two might have some… pointers.”
Eric’s brows shoot up. “Wait… is this about—”
Dmitri elbows him in the ribs. “Don’t finish that sentence.”
I point at Dante, voice lethal. “You are on extremely thin ice, sir. One more word and I swear I will make your life a living hell.”
Dante raises both hands in surrender, but he’s enjoying this way too much. “Fine, fine. I’ll behave. For now.”
Eric looks between us, still lost. “I feel like I’m going to regret asking this, but what’s the Eiffel Tower thing? Is this code for something?”
Dmitri sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Baby, you’ve watched far too much porn in your life to not understand the answer to that question.”
Eric’s face flushes before his eyes go comically round, eyes darting down my frame and over to Dmitri.
“Ah, yeah, right… then…” he says, hiking his thumb over his shoulder.
“We’re just gonna… go over there so I can quietly yell at Dmitri for calling me out like that in public. ” He tugs a grinning Dmitri after him.
I jab Dante in the chest. “You’re an ass.”
He pulls me in for a hug. “You were distracted. It was the best way to pull you out of your head.”
“You could’ve just offered to Great Wall of China me,” I say as I lean into him. “That would’ve done the trick.”
“That’s a new one.”
“Yep, and maybe even more shocking than your Leaning Tower move.”
He chuckles, the motion bouncing my head where it rests against him. “I’ve got to hear this.”
“Oh, this one is simple. Two partners…”
“Scandalous,” he whispers, echoing my earlier line and making me grin.
I swat his back. “Don’t make me lose focus. Two partners, and one stretches out on the ground and does nothing while the other does all the work.”
“That sounds like every relationship I’ve ever had.”
I bark out a loud laugh at the brutal honesty in his tone. “You’ve just not been with the right partner,” I say as I look up at him.
A gentle thumb lands on my chin as he smiles with a touch of melancholy.
“You’re absolutely correct,” he murmurs, pressing a soft, almost imperceptible kiss to my lips.
He hesitates, hovering just an inch away before closing the distance again, letting his lips linger on mine for a few seconds this time.
My eyes widen as he pulls away, fingertips landing where he just kissed me. “What was that for?”
“If you’re allowed to replace bad memories, I figure I am, too.”
I nod, resisting the urge to beg him for more as I nestle back into his chest. “That’s probably fair.” My fingers trace aimlessly across his stomach as we stand there listening to the guys chatter in the background. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” he says, giving me a little jostle.
“You know how to fight.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see them. “Okay, fine. Let me rephrase. It was obvious from watching you that you’re a trained fighter, and I didn’t know that about you. None of us did. Where did you learn to fight like that, and why was it a secret?”
“Now, technically, that’s two questions,” he says.
I swat him again for the snark, but his humor quickly fades as tension overtakes his body. I untangle myself from the warmth of his chest and glance up at his hesitant face. “You don’t have to tell me if you’d rather keep it to yourself.”
“No, no, it’s not that.” His expression turns almost pained. “I want to share it with you, honestly. After what happened, I think… I dunno. That you deserve to hear it? That I need to say it? I know that doesn’t make sense.”
“It doesn’t have to make sense. A lot of things about this week don’t make sense.”
“Yeah,” he murmurs, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. “It’s a long story.”
“Well, I’ve got time? We could grab a pizza and hang out at my place? You can share the harrowing tale of your rise to Street Fighter, and I’ll tell you about seducing a man while wearing a Sailor Moon costume.”
He chokes on a laugh. “You seduced a man with a Sailor Moon costume?”
“Well, not yet, but I’ve got the outfit ready to go as long as I have time to change.”
His eyes crinkle at the corners, lips twitching. “You’re not subtle, you know that?”
“Subtlety is overrated,” I reply. “I just… I want these things. These pieces of you. You know that, right? I want whatever you’re ready to share. Or not share.”
He looks at me for a long moment—really looks—like he’s trying to read every unspoken thing behind my words. Then he nods, slow and sure.
“Okay,” he says quietly. “I’ll pick up dinner and be over in a half hour?”
I flash him a careful smile. “Sounds good. And if it gets heavy, I’ll have the pigtails ready. Deal?”
He huffs another quiet laugh, shoulders loosening just a fraction. “Deal.”