15. Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen
Mac
“Okay, okay, goat nads!” I call into the huddle and swipe a finger beneath both eyes. “Who’s up for pizza?” My sight lands on Toby who visibly relaxes, a green sobriety chip flipping between his fingers.
He nods, though it’s shaky, smiles, and whispers a “Thank you.”
I grin back and wrap my arm around his shoulders.
He relaxes even more.
A flash of guilt tempts me with its ping of familiarity, but I let the buzz of agreement around me wash it all out.
My dark cloud has no place here right now.
Because not only did Aria surprise the shit out of me with a brand-new Pride line for our merch, I can still feel Jordan’s searing gaze track my movements.
I like that too much .
But I won’t let that voice in my head burst my bubble.
After pizza at Georgie’s, Toby takes the twins home for bedtime and the rest of us find our way to Denver’s bar. It’s on the smaller side for nightlife, homier, but Den is a good friend and keeps the place respectable enough that we can show up and know that we won’t be bombarded with bullshit just because we’re in a band.
Shots are distributed, toasts are chanted, and liquor is consumed.
We make a dance floor by pushing empty tables back, and when the lights dip low and Den flips on the twinkle lights above, Peach finds me in the mass of bodies swaying to the Electric Call boy song blaring from the speakers.
“So, what’s up with the—” I point at his nose.
His brow wings and a snicker that looks like it hurts bunches up his face. “I’ll give you two guesses.”
“Did you walk in on Cedar and Fin again?” I can’t hold back the chuckle, but he shakes his head.
“Nope, try again.”
The song changes to a slower beat and Peach follows my lead. We’re kind of dancing together, not touching but close enough to probably look like we are.
“Okay, I’m stumped.”
Peach snorts, his hands coming up to rest on my shoulders when a stranger bobs a little too close.
“Who?” I ask again and bring my hands up to hold his ribs. It’s completely platonic, triggering no need or deep-seated desire and it’s actually fucking nice to dance for once without feeling like I might throw up. I missed it .
“One more guess. Bet you won’t get it.”
The song slows again, flipping before the last one is over to Sam Smith’s “Dancing with a Stranger”, and Peach migrates closer.
“Ehhh, but Fin doesn’t get rabid fans. If it wasn’t him, then my guess is you dropped your phone on your face and are playing it off like a battle wound.”
Peach barks out a laugh and sways into me, his arms wrapping around my shoulders. “I don’t think a phone would break my nose, but sure.”
“ Broken ?”
“Yup.”
My grip tightens on his ribs, stilling him. “ Why did they break your nose?”
He snorts, his eyes darting over my shoulder. “Dunno.” His sight flicks back to mine and his grin widens wickedly. “I’m sure you’ll find out.”