Chapter 12 – Lumen
Chapter Twelve
Lumen
The pictures are everywhere. It’s not only music-related sites, either. Maybe my ad tracking is showing me things on my homepage because I searched Liminal recently, but this never happened when I did the same for Tangled Desires.
I shut off notifications for all the social media sites I normally scroll on to pass the time after I got so many that they killed my battery.
Theo texted and called consistently all morning.
I opened our text thread and read a few of the more recent ones.
He repeatedly said that we need to talk. He also begged me to meet him in Charleston… That alone told me he had no idea I spent the night on Liminal’s bus.
He’ll find out, though.
It’ll get ugly.
Hell, it already is.
Emotionally, I’m done for.
I woke up raw and exhausted, despite getting eight hours of sleep. Leaving the bedroom on the bus felt like a lot of work, but luckily, being around Malcolm cheered me up. It’s hard to be depressed when he’s like a hyper puppy, desperately trying to make me smile.
Watching their practice is unreal, and it’s just engaging enough that I manage to forget what a shit show my life is.
I’ve procrastinated making any calls, and I don’t even know why. I think it’s that once I do, it becomes real. When I tell my friends or my dad, they’ll know Theo cheated on me, and I’ll have to talk about it all over again.
By the time Liminal makes it off stage from practicing, I’m ready to retreat to the bus.
Malcolm doesn’t hesitate to throw his arm around my shoulder. “I need a shower. I’m sweating buckets.”
“The air conditioning in this place leaves something to be desired,” Riser says, pulling up his long sleeve T-shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow.
His olive skin is covered in dark tattoos, but I can’t make out what they are before he pulls the material down.
“I also need a shower before we head back to the bus.”
“Me too,” Kincaid says, pulling his hair up into a bun on the top of his head. His bright teal eyes stand out in stark comparison to his tan skin and blond beard.
“Yeah, I’m ripe.” Malcolm pats my shoulder. “You can chill in the greenroom. I promise I won’t be too long. Then we can see what catering has available for dinner.”
It’s only three or maybe four p.m., at the latest, which is crazy early for dinner. No wonder they get late-night snacks delivered to the bus. I’m not hungry in the slightest. The single line I did earlier has mostly worn off, and I miss the energy and numb feeling.
“I’m heading back to the bus,” Tennyson says, swiping his blondish-brown curls back from his face. “I’ll grab a shower before the show, but I wanna chill right now.”
“I’m going with him.” Parish’s head bobs, and his long black hair falls over his shoulder as he turns to me.
“You’re welcome to come with us, if you don’t want to hang out alone in the greenroom.
You will miss out on watching their naked asses bounce as they try to get themselves into their too-tight jeans, though. ”
“Oh, fuck you.” Kincaid snorts.
“Up to you, baby doll.” Malcolm kisses my temple. “It might be more comfortable to wait on the bus.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “I’ll head back with them, if that’s okay?”
Malcolm’s stormy, electric scent is so much stronger now that he’s sweaty, and it makes my head swim. I’ve had a mild reaction to Theo’s scent on occasion, but this is like that turned up to a thousand.
My mouth waters, and I have the strangest urge to ask for Mal’s sweaty tank top. It’s so unexpected that I take a step away, making his arm fall against his side with an awkward thump.
Jesus.
I need to get myself together.
It’s October in Charleston, and it’s still hot. This place really does need better air conditioning. Hopefully it’ll be cooler once we’re outside because at least then there’s a chance of a breeze.
I’m used to it from living in Florida my entire life, but one of the things I was most looking forward to was seeing the seasons.
Parish and Tennyson seem to do their own thing within the band. I’m not sure if that’s because they’re the two new members or if they’re just naturally close.
They’re polite, either way.
“Go on, sugar.” Parish holds the door open, winking as I pass through.
Tennyson steps aside, waiting for his friend to join him, but I linger around so they’ll go first.
They’ve been here the same amount of time that I have, so I have no clue how they remember where everything is.
I’m basically a lost puppy.
They take the lead, walking down a long, covered sidewalk that loops around by a parking lot. The buses finally come into view, and my heartbeat picks up. All I have to do is make it inside Liminal’s bus without anyone from Tangled Desires spotting me.
Tennyson and Parish don’t seem to be in any hurry, and I catch up to walk by Tennyson’s side.
“So, what did you and Mal get up to before practice?” Tennyson asks, flinging his obnoxiously long curls back from his eyes. They immediately fall back into place as his blue eyes sparkle.
I very expertly stumble over my own feet at the question, barely righting myself before I face-plant.
Malcolm failed to give me an excuse to use if someone asked. He’s self-conscious about trying to write his own music, and I have no intention of violating his privacy.
“Nothing,” I say, shrugging. “We walked around the venue, and he messed around on his guitar until you guys came in.”
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Parish asks, laughing as he steps down onto the concrete of the parking lot where the buses are waiting. “Come on, you can fill us in on the gossip. We’ve got nothing else going on at the moment.”
“I caught my boyfriend cheating on me yesterday,” I say incredulously. “I haven’t even talked to him since everything went down.”
“That’s even more reason to fuck someone else to get back at him,” Parish says, laughing obnoxiously.
Tennyson stops in his tracks, turning to face me. “I’ve known Mal for years. The industry is small. Even if I wasn’t on the road with Liminal, we interacted a lot.”
“Okay?”
Where is this going?
“And he’s always been a fuck anything that moves kind of guy,” Tennyson says, making me flinch.
It’s silly.
There’s nothing between us that would suggest that sentence should make my stomach drop, but it does, and I hate it.
Malcolm is affectionate and funny and an all-around nice guy. At least, that’s what I’ve seen from him so far.
I’m also not stupid.
I’ve seen the paparazzi pictures and even some on social media taken by fans when he was in a club. He’s been a rock star for years. I’m sure his body count is astronomical.
It’s also none of my business.
“When his dad had that heart attack earlier this year, it changed him,” Tennyson says.
My eyes widen.
I had no idea about that, but I’m not sure how I would have heard about it. It feels like a piece of information that Malcolm should have told me, if he wanted me to know at all.
“It was right around the time the label brought me and Parish on,” Tennyson says, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.
“Whenever we crossed paths, I never saw him go a night without finding someone to entertain himself with, but this entire tour, I haven’t seen him with a single person, outside of you. ”
My jaw falls, and I rock back on my heels.
That makes no sense.
“Somewhere between Drew throwing his life away and his dad almost dying, Mal grew up.” Tennyson quirks a light brown brow.
“He’s the type of person who would give someone the shirt off his back.
Loyal as fuck. As ride or die as they come.
I’m just saying, if you’re going to run back to your boyfriend the second he apologizes, you should do that before Mal gets any more attached. ”
“Yo, you’re going a little hard,” Parish says, slamming his shoulder into Tennyson’s. “Dial it back a few notches.”
“I’m not trying to be an ass, I swear.” Tennyson pulls his hands from his pockets, holding his palms up. “I’m just looking out for a friend. Because long after you move on, the rest of us will be around, trying to keep him from spiraling when he’s finally getting himself on track.”
I have to bite my cheek to keep from telling him to go to hell. He might know Malcolm, but he doesn’t know me.
I hate the way they all seem to talk about him like he’s stupid.
Kincaid called him an idiot when I was having a panic attack. Malcolm straight-up referred to himself as the fuck-up, and I can’t tell if that’s because he genuinely thinks he is or everyone else’s judgments of him have worn down his self-worth.
I have no idea if Malcolm is even interested in me or if he just feels sorry for me, but it seems like Tennyson is assigning a lot more value to me in Malcolm’s life than what I perceive it to be.
What anyone would think it would be under the circumstances.
I like Mal…a lot.
That doesn’t mean it will impact him at all when I leave. He could hop right along to the next sad, broken girl that he comes across and rescue her too.
The thought makes my stomach twist uncomfortably, and I bring a hand to rub away the ache.
I got out of a relationship less than twenty-four hours ago. Hopping directly into another seems like a recipe for disaster.
Tennyson gives me an expectant look, and I nod.
“I hear you,” I mutter, turning to take off for the bus.
By the sounds of their shoes crunching against the concrete, I’m going to guess that they keep pace at my side.
“Good,” Tennyson says, tossing an arm around my shoulder. He gestures to the right with his hand on my arm, and I naturally follow his line of sight. “Because your ex just spotted you.”
“Jesus, dude,” Parish says. “You want me to tell him to get lost, Lumen?”
“No.” I stop dead in my tracks, which causes Tennyson’s arm to drag me forward until he gets the hint. “But don’t throw my straw away. I’m going to need to be really numb after this conversation.”
“Ah, yes, getting blitzed.” Tennyson chuckles. “It’s my favorite way to forget how much life loves to kick me in the teeth. Good luck.”