Chapter 4
FOUR
Benji had set his phone alarm to wake him up at sunrise so he could get back on the road and avoid another painful conversation with Joshua.
Asking them to sleep on it was an avoidance tactic, another way to prolong the inevitable declaration that their three-year relationship was over.
But he’d played along, tossed and turned for a few hours with no real sleep, and then he was driving south with three Red Bulls to keep him company.
He ignored several calls, not only from Joshua’s ring tone, but also Danielle’s and their manager Eddie Grand.
At a quick pit stop to relieve his bladder, he texted Danielle that he was safe, unharmed, and he’d be at the hotel in an hour with an explanation.
He dreaded going back, but he had no choice.
The band had a gig tonight, and even though he wanted to crawl into a liquor bottle and pickle there for a week, he wouldn’t let them down.
Traffic going into Virginia Beach on a Friday morning was a nightmare.
Their hotel was relatively easy to find, but it took him thirty minutes past his expected hour to get there.
The elevator ride was a nightmare, full of crammed bodies and summer sweat, and by the time he got his keycard out to open the door, all he wanted was to face-plant in the bed he was sharing with Danielle.
The room had two queen beds, and while Andy and Bobby were outwardly accepting, they still had a thin layer of “no homo” to work on. Especially Bobby.
Too bad Danielle pounced on him the minute he opened the door. “Are you okay?” she asked with tears in her round brown eyes.
Someone called with the news. Great.
“No.” He glanced behind her, but the guys were noticeably absent. Somehow that made it okay to let his guard down. His eyes burned. “We’ve over. Fuck.”
She yanked him into a hug, which was a little awkward because he was way taller than her petite form, but it felt good.
Comforting in a way he sorely needed, so he let himself cry.
He mourned the loss of someone who still meant the world to him, until he was a sweaty, hiccupping mess that she gently nudged into the bathroom.
“Take a shower,” she said in a rare mothering tone. “Then take a nap. Andy and Bobby went to the beach for a few hours, so you’ll have some peace.”
“Thanks.”
“Do you need me to get you anything? Food? Hard liquor?”
He was so tempted by the liquor, but he had to sing tonight, and all that sobbing wasn’t going to help his voice. “Actually, lemon water would be great.”
“On it. I’m so sorry, Benji.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
The shower helped enough that he was able to nap for a few hours, but he still woke up restless and upset.
Andy and Bobby were back from the beach and quietly taking turns in the bathroom, while Danielle read, lounging on their bed.
Benji blinked bleary eyes at her, positive he was hungover despite having had no alcohol in days.
I fucking hate crying.
“Hey, dude,” Bobby said as he towel-dried his hair. He had a brash, take-charge personality that he seemed to be dulling down a bit. “Dani told us. Sorry to hear it.”
Benji grunted in response. He’d have to get used to platitudes about the breakup.
The awful part was, he’d left before he and Joshua could mutually agree that it was over.
They’d sort of left out the part where they both said it out loud and meant it.
But Joshua’s “I don’t want to do this in the middle of the night” had pretty much spelled it out.
He didn’t want to break up in the middle of the night; he wanted to wait until morning.
Fuck that noise.
“How was the beach?” Benji asked, hoping to redirect the conversation away from him.
“Crowded.” Bobby slipped a surf-themed sleeveless tee on over his board shorts. “Water wasn’t too cold though. And there were plenty of bikini bodies to admire.”
Danielle rolled her eyes, then put her tablet down.
She scooted to the edge of the bed and gave Benji a look he didn’t particularly like.
“You don’t have to pretend to be normal for our sakes, okay?
You drove two and a half hours at night to try and fix your relationship, and it imploded instead. Take time and process this.”
“I don’t want to process it.” Benji sat up, still physically exhausted, but determined too. “I want to forget about it and focus on the band.”
Fading Daze continued to gain fans with every city they visited, and their manager was very close to landing them a recording contract with a small, but respected label.
Downloads of their recorded songs—many of them originals written by Trey Cooper and used with permission—were really good, and constantly climbing the ranks on various indie sites.
Success wouldn’t give him back what he’d lost with Joshua, but it gave him something to focus on so he didn’t fall back into the pit of depression that had nearly taken his life as a lonely, bullied adolescent. He needed to look forward, not backward.
Today, he would change the beat of his own song.
Joshua wallowed in the mess of his own making for the rest of the day, getting up a few times to use the bathroom, or get a drink of water.
Mostly he stayed in bed, replaying last night’s conversation and June’s fight over and over.
Picking it all apart. Knowing what had gone wrong, and perfectly aware it was all his fucking fault. He’d pushed Benji away.
He was an asshole, full stop. But he’d ended it now, instead of waiting for it to implode later.
But what if it didn’t? What if we were like the Boundses and I lost my person?
He didn’t believe in soul mates, but he did believe that the love he and Benji shared was very rare. And instead of fighting for it, he’d set Benji free. Free to pursue his career and find another lover.
Except . . . the asexual admission had floored Joshua. It confused and worried him. He hated the idea that he might have ever pressured Benji into having sex he didn’t want. Joshua hated that Benji had been so tied up in knots over telling him. As if he expected Joshua to dump him over it.
And didn’t I kind of?
Fuck, but he needed to talk to someone about this.
Lincoln and Emmett had been in and out of the house a few times, their voices muffled.
Doors opened and shut. Lincoln had found Joshua that morning, curled up in a ball on the living room floor, and Joshua had told him what he’d done.
After putting him to bed, Lincoln hadn’t bothered him again.
And Lincoln also hadn’t shown any sort of judgment, which was nice.
Lincoln had known Benji longer, been in a band with him for two years, but he was still being decent to Joshua, and that meant a lot.
Lincoln would listen, but he also had a stake in this as one of Benji’s friends.
Dominic? Same problem. Joshua wasn’t comfortable confiding in Lincoln’s boyfriend, so Emmett was out.
He was friendly with his coworkers, but no one really got his relationship with Benji.
His family was totally out of the question.
It sucked that at the age of twenty-four, he had very few good friends.
I truly am a workaholic.
He’d lucked into his IT job directly out of college, and he’d had it ever since, working upwards of sixty hours a week.
Seeing Benji when he had a chance. Hooking up to scratch an itch when he needed the stress release.
He’d slowed down because of the car accident, but when he was cleared to return to work, he’d been restless. Bored.
And he was the same way here at the shore.
No coworkers to chat with, no clients to entertain with stories.
No actual job to do, and now without Benji .
. . he’d well and truly hit bottom. So, he stayed in bed and wallowed until Saturday morning, when Lincoln and Emmett tag-teamed him into getting up and taking a shower.
They made him sit through a pancake breakfast, while they both joked about some of the antics at Off Beat the night before.
Lincoln bar-backed sometimes too, and he and Emmett had seen some decent live acts.
The friendliness gave Joshua hope that he wouldn’t be punted out of his rented room sooner than planned.
It also reminded him that he’d been expecting Van on Thursday night, only to have Benji arrive instead. In all of the stress over his relationship, he’d forgotten Van never showed. Or had he showed and peeked inside, only to see Joshua and Benji arguing?
He had Van’s number, because Van had called to confirm their date.
After he finished eating and put his plate in the sink, Joshua hunted around for his phone.
He found it in the living room, under a stack of sheet music.
Ten percent battery left. One of the many chargers in the house was in the kitchen, but with Lincoln and Emmett still fussing around in there, he took his phone into his room to connect it.
While it charged, he sent Van a text: Hey, it’s Joshua from Thursday night. I didn’t hear from you after our call.
He didn’t want to sound too creepy, considering he’d waited a day and a half since their planned hookup to reach out, so he added: Ping me back so I know you didn’t die in a horrible car wreck on your way to meet me.
Snickering at the morbid humor, considering, he sent the text.
Less than ten seconds passed before a reply came through: Ping.
Very funny.
Joshua: Change your mind about having a little fun?
Van: I don’t do other people’s boyfriends. Too complicated.
He could sympathize with that. He’d always made it clear with his hookups that it was a one-off deal, so he rarely had to bring up the whole open relationship thing. Except—
Joshua: Who told you I had a boyfriend?
Van: Emmett. Gave him a ride since going same direction.