19. Jorge
Jorge
Road To Paradise
W ell. It’s settled, then. Oli and I are dating.
I don’t know what came over me or why I blurted that out, but it feels right now that it’s out in the open. I mean, this goes beyond just friends at this point. The fact he didn’t argue or disagree makes me extremely happy despite being upset and pissed at him for half the day. I’m such a damn sucker for him, and it shows. I’m eating my glass noodles while he mows down Pad Thai across from me at my table, happy he’s back and didn’t leave me forever.
I feel ready to tackle whatever this relationship throws my way.
“You’re doing it again,” I say, eyeballing him while he tongue-fucks his fork. It’s just pornographic the way he eats.
Instead of freezing up, he laughs. “I am not. ”
“Dude, you are.” And I mimic him just to keep him laughing. I even roll my eyes and moan.
“That’s…excessive,” he mumbles, twirling his fork too long.
“Debatable. I enjoy it thoroughly.”
His cheeks darken fast. “That so?”
“It is.”
Clearing his throat loudly, he takes a bite slowly and seductively before shyly meeting my stare. “If I’m enjoying something, it shows.”
That should not have a double meaning, but it does. Is he flirting with me right now? Feels like flirting. My dick is tingling like it’s flirting. Wetting my lips, I nod at his plate. “Just with food?”
“Other things, too.”
“What other things?”
“Hobbies,” he says carefully before growing braver and more confident, “music, people. ”
“People? Or just one person?” I rasp, clenching my fork in a death grip.
“It’s been a long time,” he whispers. “But just one.”
I will launch into the atmosphere with how much fuel he’s pumping into my veins right now over nothing. We’re just talking. Flirting. I groan and force myself to eat. “Tease,” I grumble.
He smirks before sliding his socked foot over my shin under the table. My eyes flutter as I drop my fork. “You can’t do that.”
“Do what?”
Ugh.
“Be all hot and sensual and flirty . It’s giving me a boner,” I grumble, wanting nothing more than to press on it.
He chuckles and keeps stroking my leg.
“We haven’t even kissed yet, and I’m ready to blow. Can we kiss? Is that something we can do? I’d kiss the fuck out of you right now.” It’s official. My brain is at max capacity. I can’t keep my lips shut.
“Not yet,” he says. “I want to, though."
“When?” I whine, squirming in my seat when his toes tease my foot.
“Soon,” is all he says, and the little shit goes right back to his fucking Pad Thai, leaving me and my cock pouting.
I t’s been a week, and I have yet to kiss Oli. It’s all I can think about. He’s been perfectly content to put us back into our usual routine of hanging out, playing Magic, hovering while he tinkers with his motorcycle and new garden, and watching movies. I’m losing my mind . And to make matters worse, the band and I are forced to meet with our manager Lex.
The tiny tyrant from hell.
I think we all regret hiring him six years ago, but he’s Kelly’s younger cousin, so we can’t exactly fire him now. Not when he’s had a significant role in our success as a band. The guy might know dick about metal, but he knows marketing and has a way with…everything. I think he’s an evil sorcerer. Kind of looks like one, too.
Kelly is giggling at something on TikTok. Michael and Devon refuse to look at each other, and Phoenix is texting filthy things to Eli. I can tell because he’s squirming and blushing like a needy whore. Side-eyeing my best friend, I bump his leg with my knee, and he gasps, flipping his phone over.
“What?” he hisses.
“Stop sexting.”
“Why? Jealous?” he teases, and I roll my eyes.
“Where the fuck is he?” I ask everyone.
Kelly looks up from her scrolling and shrugs. “He said to be here at one.”
“Which means he’ll be here at three,” Devon grumbles from beside me.
I certainly hope he doesn’t make us wait until three. I’ve got plans. Plans that involve my lips. If I try, Oli might throw me to the ground again, which doesn’t sound too bad if the payoff is getting to taste him, even for a few seconds. I sigh longingly, trying not to chub up next to my bandmates. The last thing I need is for anyone to accuse me of wanting to fuck Phoenix again.
“I just texted him. He’s parking,” Michael informs us before sneering at Devon.
Devon returns the look and blurts, “What? Got something to say? Maybe an apology?”
“You fucking started it,” Michael quips.
“Did I, though?” Devon’s pierced eyebrow arches.
Scoffing, Michael drops it and turns his attention to whatever Kelly is watching. Talk about tension. “Are you two fucking?” I ask because I gotta know.
“Fuck no,” Devon growls at the same time Michael barks, “I’m not gay.”
“Sure about that?” I eyeball our guitarist. Whenever he’s mad, the vein in his forehead is more prominent like it currently is.
“Cut it out,” Phoenix slaps my stomach. “But seriously, guys. Whatever bullshit you’re fighting over needs to get handled. Lex is going to ream you a new one.”
Phoenix does have a point. Lex doesn’t like anyone to be pissy unless he’s the one doing it. And they’ve been at each other’s throats since Michael's party. I sense something. Maybe an unrequited crush? Michael does give off hetero vibes, but hell, up until recently, so did I. I all but threw myself at that interview lady a while back. She was hot.
“Well, it would’ve been handled if Michael would just admit what a bitch he was being.”
“And I wouldn’t have been a bitch if you weren’t up my metaphorical ass all goddamn night.”
“Excuse me for giving a shit,” Devon says hotly. “Excuse me for worrying about you.”
“You don’t need to. I had it handled.”
“Sure you did.”
“That’s enough!” Kelly interjects, rubbing her head. “I can’t stand the drama. Either take it outside or shut up.”
The studio goes deathly silent. No one likes making Kelly mad. She’s almost as bad as her cousin when it happens.
“Sorry, Kel,” Michael mumbles.
“Yeah, sorry,” Devon agrees.
“We are a family . Start acting like it.”
They give each other a look and nod.
As if the tension in the room summoned him, the door swings open to reveal our twenty-five-year old evil overlord storming into the space. His amber eyes sweep to Devon immediately . Lex is about 5’4, but he scares the shit out of me. I cling to Phoenix, so I don’t get zapped with any mental laser beams.
“You,” Lex snarls, waving his finger at Devon. “I specifically said to cut ties with Dark Wing.”
“I shared one post.” Devon holds his stare. “What’s the fucking issue with them now, Lewis?”
Lex bristles. Right, so Lex isn’t his first name. It’s Lewis, and he hates it, so he goes by his middle one. Only Devon is brave enough to poke the bear like that.
Blowing a strand of auburn hair away from his eyes, Lex ignores the comment and continues. “There’s been word that Alex fucked some underage girl. It’s a PR nightmare, and we don’t want to be associated with sexual predators.”
“Wasn’t she like almost eighteen?” Michael asks.
“ It’s illegal ,” Lex hisses and tugs on his lavender hoodie. “First the cocaine incident in Berlin, and now this. We are done. No more.”
“What cocaine incident?” I ask because this is all news to me. Devon usually handles the social media stuff.
His cheeks darken as he spins his thumb ring. “Alex got caught with some coke. He was giving it to Leon from Headhunter.”
Phoenix stiffens. “ What? ”
“The guy is worse than—” Lex stops himself from saying Eli.
We all look at our manager, who huffs and taps his foot. “Need I say more?”
“I’m unfollowing them now,” Devon declares.
“I’m deleting Alex’s number,” Phoenix growls.
We all purge our contacts and social media, and Lex nods in approval. “Now, what is the hold up with the rest of the album? You all have been sitting on your asses for weeks. We have a schedule. We have deadlines. I can’t get you signed with a label if you put out music slower than Devon can style his hideous hair.”
“Low blow, man,” I defend my friend. “Not cool.”
“Well?” Lex insists.
“I’m out of ideas,” I say.
“I’m busy with Eli,” Phoenix admits.
Kelly sighs and tells her cousin, “Frankly, I’m exhausted, and my carpal tunnel is acting up.”
The freckles on Lex’s face are like tiny red beacons of rage as he glares at us. “Do you even want to make it big? You lazy fucks.”
“Cut it out, man!” Devon roars. “This is why we avoid you. You’re impossible to please.”
Lifting his chin pompously, Lex agrees, “That’s true, but it’s why I’m good at my job. Higher expectations equals better results. Look at the success of this tour that, might I add, none of you wanted to do.”
We share a collective guilty look.
“Put your big, metal heads together and make something. Because this,” he waves his finger at all of us, “isn’t going to do it.”
S howered? Check.
No longer contagious? Check.
Nervous as hell for some ridiculous reason? Bet your ass.
I hover near my car, staring down the walkway that leads to Oli’s little studio, and gulp. It’s warm as shit today, so I’m kind of sweaty, which is ruining my shower. The good news is that I spent copious amounts of time making sure my curls were super soft and formed. I even wore my fancy pants. Nice dark denim with no holes or hot sauce stains anywhere. These are my ‘I’m going on a date’ pants. Not that this is a date.
He doesn’t even know I’m here.
Technically, we aren’t supposed to hang out today.
Technically , I’m supposed to be at home writing lyrics for songs I haven’t made up yet. That plan lasted a whole two minutes before I started getting ready, determined to woo Oli into kissing me. It’s not like I’m inexperienced here. I know how to work it. I might be rusty because it’s been a while, but I can make it happen if I put my mind to it. If he flat-out says no, I won’t argue. I’m simply tired of waiting for him to make the move.
Maybe he’ll want to play our watered-down Trustfall game again. I have all sorts of sexy ideas for that.
No amount of pep talking or faux confidence is making the flipping stop in my stomach, though. It’s doing a goddamn gymnastic routine in there. Because if this works, and we do kiss, I’m going to be so much worse. I can feel it. That makeshift cork clogging up all my needs and desires will come shooting out like a volcanic eruption. He’s never going to get rid of me.
Fuck it. I’m doing this.
Throwing my shoulders back, I leave my car and march down the walkway. Dodging the overgrown palms, I plant my feet at his front door and knock. I could just let myself in, but I don’t want to freak him out like last time. About thirty seconds pass before he opens the door. Surprisingly, he doesn’t look upset that I’m here unannounced. I’ve done that before, too. Many times.
“Hey,” he says brightly, pulling me in for a weird side hug. We’ve been doing those lately.
I return the pitiful embrace. “Hi. Are you busy?”
“Kinda.”
We part, and I look over his shoulder into his space. “What the fuck is all that?”
“I didn’t buy it,” he immediately defends when I slither inside to get a good look at…everything.
He’s got a guitar rigged up to an amp, some pedals, a hoard of tab sheets, and an ancient-looking CD player connected to over-the-ear headphones. I arch an eyebrow at him, wondering what he’s up to. To my knowledge, Oli has given up playing the guitar. I’ve never heard him play, but Phoenix swears up and down that Oli was born to do it.
“Where did it all come from?” I ask him.
He smiles shyly. “It’s mine. I had Nyx get it for me out of storage.”
“Seriously?”
He nods and walks over to the coffee table to stack up all the sheets of paper. “I’ve never been able to read sheet music, but I could read tabs. Turns out, I still remember how.”
“Will you play for me?”
Pausing his shuffling, he shakes his head. “Not yet. I—I’m working on something.” He stuffs the papers in an old manilla envelope, then moves the CD player to the room's far corner. “How’s the writing going?”
“Bad. I have literally no ideas.” Because all I can think about is kissing you.
“What about everyone else? Isn’t it like…a collective effort?” I go over to his couch and plop down on it. When he faces me, I notice him quickly double-take at my outfit. “You look nice.”
Took him long enough to notice. “Thanks,” I grumble.
“What’s wrong? I promise I’ll play for you…eventually. But I’m—”
“It’s not that.”
He folds his arms and wanders over to me. “Okay.”
I sigh and try to gather some much-needed gusto. “You said soon, Oli. To me, soon is like a day or two. Not seven.”
“Oh,” he rasps, arms falling to his sides. Wetting his lips and swallowing, he takes in my outfit again. “Was all this meant to seduce me?”
“Kind of.” I’m being a brat, but can you blame me? I want to fucking kiss him. We are dating.
“I think if we try it now, it’ll be forced and…weird,” he explains, and I agree.
“You’re right. I’m not used to being in a situation like this.”
“Me either.” He pauses. “I’ve been thinking about it, though. Often. And I think when it’s the right moment, it’s the right moment.”
“But are you going to let it happen? I feel like the right moment has happened eighty-seven times this past week.”
His mouth opens, then shuts abruptly. Eyebrows furrowing, he folds his arms again. “Would it help if I said I’m nervous?”
“And I’m not? You’re a fucking dude .” I laugh at myself, shaking my head and rolling my eyes. “Damn it, Oli. We’re never going to do it unless we just do it. ”
I can secretly admit I’m upset it isn’t going to be like the movies. You know, the ones where the couple launches at each other in a fit of passion, kissing like hungry animals until it eventually leads to dry humping against the wall and shredding clothes. At this point, I’ll take whatever I can get.
“Does it bother you that I’m a guy?” he asks.
“No,” I growl. “I’m nervous because you’re a guy and my friend. And I really want to kiss you and hold you. I want to do all the things with you. Everything.” My heart thuds wildly while he considers my words.
Always thinking about what he’s going to say before he says it. Always dissecting the situation like some mad scientist. “Well?” I pry. “Can I just do it?”
“Let’s play.”
I deadpan. “Play.”
“Yes. Our game. It…helps me.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, briefly showing my frustration before I drop my hand and concede. “Okay, beautiful. Let’s fucking play.”