Chapter 31 Scandals
Scandals
Saturday, the band was loading their equipment into the bus they’d rented for the weekend.
Dae was meticulously going over the list of everything they needed for the show while Lance and Henry did most of the heavy lifting.
But even that was almost done. Grey was waiting for me with two coffees in hand as I approached.
He handed me one once I was within arm’s reach.
“Oat milk latte with an extra shot,” he said proudly.
I wanted to roll my eyes teasingly in response. It wasn’t like my order was that hard to remember. Then again, I realized I didn’t know his order. Damn. I needed to find a way to get him to say it again.
“Thank you,” I said graciously and took a sip. “Uh, shouldn’t you be helping load the van?”
“You’d think so!” Lance called from behind a pile of drums.
“I handled all the equipment on my own for the last five shows,” Grey said unfazed. “This is only fair.”
Lance and Henry exchanged glances that told me not only was Grey correct but they also regretted the life decisions that had led them to do any sort of manual labor at such an obscene hour of the morning.
I took another sip of my coffee, enjoying the warmth against the chilly spring air.
The thought that I could help briefly crossed my mind.
But by that point, I knew the boys well enough to realize I would only slow them down since they would insist on micromanaging me for fear that I would damage their expensive equipment—which would be fair enough.
“Shall I give you the grand tour?” Grey gave a sweeping gesture toward the dingy white bus.
“I would love a tour, good sir,” I replied, my tone a playful copy of his.
His bandmates groaned as we took the steps into the bus.
The back was loaded with cases for instruments all carefully stacked to prevent too much shifting.
The front half was empty except for the cracked black leather seats.
The bus windows weren’t the most secure.
Every time something was added to the storage space under the bus, one of them quivered in its frame.
And a strange-looking stain marked the driver’s seat.
“It’s not much,” Grey admitted. “But Dae refuses to spend more than the bare minimum on anything not directly tied to making or producing music.”
“Well, until we get a manager,” Dae said, climbing into the bus as well, “we need to save every penny we get from our gigs.”
The other two joined us shortly after, and we were on our way.
The ride passed much faster than I’d expected, the nearly six hours between us and our destination seeming to melt away.
But I realized that was likely because Grey and I held hands in the rear of the bus nearly the entire way.
I still wasn’t accustomed to his touch, and every moment shot a thrill through my system.
Every brush of the knuckle brought a swell of excitement.
Every line drawn on my skin with the tips of his fingers was a jolt of electricity.
I was beginning to understand what songs meant when they compared love to a drug. Because if love was like this, then I didn’t know what else to compare it to.
I blinked in surprise at the trees and hills passing outside my window. Do I love Grey? The way my heart constricted shakily in response told me yes, but I was wary. It seemed so fast. Sure we’ve known each other for months at this point, but doesn’t love take a while to develop this strongly?
I glanced at Grey, who grinned at me when he realized I was looking at him.
His smile brought yet another flutter in my chest, this one so strong that I had to look away.
Shit, I do love him. I stared at the cracked leather of the seat in front of me as my emotions worked themselves into a frenzy in my chest.
“You okay?” Grey touched my forearm with two light fingers.
I nodded. There was no way I could confess my feelings at that moment, certainly not when I’d just been ambushed by them myself and definitely not in front of the band—or I supposed technically behind the band. Whatever. The band was within earshot. That was what mattered.
“Just getting stir-crazy” was all I said.
Fortunately, he accepted the response and gave my hand a quick squeeze. “Same. We’re almost there, though.”
And he was right. Less than half an hour after my epiphany, the canvas of nature that had been the view from our windows finally gave way to the sprawling city of Portland.
After another half an hour of traffic, a few confused GPS directions, and some colorful language from Dae, we finally arrived at the venue’s parking lot.
Well, it was less of a parking lot and more of an unused square of dirt that someone had decided was a good place to put vehicles for the festival.
Grey got busy unloading the van with the boys. I offered to help but was immediately shot down.
“I like you too much,” Dae said. “And if something accidentally broke, I’d be a huge dick, even if it wasn’t your fault. Your help just wouldn’t be good for our relationship.”
“Just stand there and look pretty,” Lance said with a cheeky grin, earning a playful swing and miss from Grey.
We followed Dae—who seemed to be the only one who knew where we were supposed to go—weaving our way through the throngs of people.
Though it was still early in the day and hours before the festival officially started, the streets were crowded with people drinking and laughing loudly.
I was forcibly reminded of the tailgating parties on campus, except this was everywhere.
Finally, we found the spot where Dreamscape would play.
The stage was set up in the middle of several fenced-off blocks, sitting right at a street intersection between two bars that looked busy despite the early hour.
The band showed their passes to some burly men wearing dark security shirts, who took a bored, if thorough look at us before gesturing us backstage.
“Backstage” consisted of a covered area with thin black cloth strapped to a chain-link barrier. A breeze meandered through the space, lifting some of the fabric to reveal people walking the streets outside. It felt horribly exposed to me, but no one else seemed bothered by it.
“Right, since we’re the first on tonight, we get to set up now, then we can relax a bit,” Dae said.
Lance and Henry shared a dubious look.
“What?” Dae asked.
“Nothing, nothing.” Henry held up appeasing hands.
“It’s just hard to imagine you relaxing. Like ever,” Lance said.
The trio started arguing among themselves, and Grey rolled his eyes, turning away from them and toward me.
“You don’t need to see this,” he said. “Why don’t you go find a place to get some drinks, and I’ll join you in a bit?” Translation: the bickering would likely get ugly before they finished setting up, and he didn’t want me to get caught in the crossfire.
“Yeah, I’ll just go over there.” I gestured vaguely to one of the bars fenced into the venue with us.
“Perfect.” Grey pecked me on the cheek, leaving my body tense and my face flushed.
I gave a short nod then turned and left, the ghost of his lips lingering on my skin.
The bar was called Scandals and was a decent-sized place with a couple of pool tables in the corners of the room.
Quite a few people already occupied tables full of empty drinks.
The bar counter itself was relatively empty, so I sat there, saving the vacant seat on my right for Grey, and ordered a beer.
The moment I was alone with my thoughts, my realization from earlier returned to the forefront of my mind.
I was in love with Grey. With how things had been going so far, I would’ve expected the moment to be met with a rush of joy and excitement, but the strongest emotions I could parse out were confusion and apprehension.
Confusion because I’d never felt that way about anyone before—guy or girl.
And though I’d said I loved people in the past, it was nothing compared to what I felt now.
That would be like comparing the light from a match to the sun.
I was left dazed by the intensity of my feelings.
And the intensity was exactly the reason for my apprehension.
What if Grey left when the stakes got higher?
The thought of him walking away was enough to leave me winded and shaken.
It felt like looking down over the edge of a tall building—the sickening twist of the stomach as my core tightened because I knew the fall from such a height would leave me a broken mess on the ground.
Yeah, I needed to not think about that possibility.
I took a long pull from my drink and instantly felt better.
Should I tell Grey? Should I do some grand gesture to announce my love to him?
Shout it from the rooftops? Should I whisper it between passionate kisses for only us to hear?
Or should I keep it to myself for a while?
He knew I liked him a lot. And I knew he felt that way about me.
Maybe the stakes wouldn’t feel quite so high if I kept my feelings quiet. Maybe that was for the best. For now.
Life had been so much simpler when I’d only liked girls. I hadn’t given a shit about any of this then. Frustrated with my emotions, I drained my beer, hoping to quiet my screaming mind with a buzz, and ordered another one.
“Here by yourself?” someone said to my right.
I looked over out of reflex, not expecting the owner of the voice to be talking to me, only to meet the eyes of a startlingly gorgeous stranger.
The man waiting for my response had hazel eyes, perfectly messy brown hair, and the suggestion of a dimple on the right side of his face. He was tall and wearing a see-through mesh shirt that showed muscle definition across his chest and down his arms.
“I—” My voice cracked, so I cleared my throat. “I’m just waiting for my boyfriend.”
If the man was disappointed, he didn’t show it. “Mind if I keep you company? I’m waiting on some friends myself.” He glanced down at the barstool where his hand rested.
I couldn’t think of a reason why he shouldn’t sit with me while I waited. And besides, I could use the company. So I nodded, and he slid into the seat, ordering a vodka soda from the bartender as he got settled.
“I’m Frankie,” the guy said.
“Ethan.”
“Is your boyfriend working the festival?” Frankie asked between sips of his drink.
I nodded. “His band is playing tonight.”
“Oh? Anyone I might know?”
We were far enough away from campus that I seriously doubted he would know of them, but something about that thought felt unkind to Grey and the boys. I shrugged. “They’re called Dreamscape. They’re just starting out.”
“Just starting out but still able to book one of the biggest festivals in town,” Frankie said. “How long have you and your boyfriend been together?”
“A couple of months.”
“So, it’s not that serious yet.” Frankie’s eye held a suggestive glint.
The knuckles of his hand gripping his drink brushed mine in an accidental-unless-you’re-into-it way that made my face grow warm.
I really wasn’t used to guys giving me attention.
Back when I’d assumed I was straight, I’d had fun with girls’ attention, but they never got reactions like this out of me.
With girls, I’d always felt in control—like things would never go further than I was prepared for because women just weren’t forceful like that.
With guys showing interest, I felt like I was on edge because I didn’t know the rules or where things would go or what would happen when they got there.
The lack of control in that dynamic frightened me…
and excited me, if I was being completely honest with myself.
Any acknowledgment of interest from a guy felt like surrender to chaos.
Then, as quickly as those thoughts had appeared, they were replaced by frustration. Who is this person to say that my relationship with Grey isn’t serious? What could a stranger possibly know about how I feel about my boyfriend? I loved Grey for fuck’s sake. I’d never loved anyone before.
I pulled my hand away. “It’s actually pretty serious,” I said stiffly.
“We were friends for a while before we started dating.” Like I’d ever been interested in Grey as just a friend.
But Frankie didn’t need the whole torrid backstory.
I was about ready to tell the man to get lost, when I was saved by a voice behind me.
“There you are!” Grey was at my side in an instant and gave me an excited peck on the cheek.
“Sorry it took so long. This guy started talking with us, and apparently, he manages a couple of bands playing today. We still have to play for him, but he said he’s potentially interested in working with us. ”
It was only then that he seemed to take in me and Frankie and the way we were clearly mid-conversation.
“Hi, I’m Frankie.” With a friendly grin, he held out a hand. “You must be Ethan’s boyfriend.”
Clearly confused, Grey shook Frankie’s hand. “I’m Grey. How do you two know each other?”
“We don’t.” Frankie was clearly the only one at ease.
I got the vague sense that he often found himself in similar situations. Does he hit on other people’s boyfriends often?
“We were just killing time until our respective parties showed up. Speaking of which”—he gestured toward the door where two people had just walked in—“I see my friends.” Frankie stood and placed a couple of bills on the counter.
“Thanks for the chat, Ethan. Nice to meet you, Grey. I’ll see you onstage tonight.
” With a twinkle in his eye, Frankie went to meet his friends.
“Interesting character,” Grey said.
“You have no idea,” I said with a strained laugh, attempting to shove aside feelings of violation. “Tell me about that manager.”
Any lingering confusion vanished from Grey’s face as his excitement from before returned in full force. He took the stool Frankie had just vacated. “His name is Martin, and he manages a bunch of the up-and-coming bands in the area…”