Chapter 38 – Malcolm
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Malcolm
Blah.
These masks are the worst.
Kincaid was right.
I’m not sure how I missed the degree to which they suck, but it’s going to be a long week.
We made it to Charlotte.
On the bright side, the amphitheater is incredible.
It’s one of my favorite places to perform, at least on the East Coast. It’s outdoors, and tonight is the first night we’ll have the aerial performers back.
With them hanging from poles, silks, and hoops above our heads, there can be no pyrotechnics, which is going to be a nice change.
We might actually be able to feel the cool breeze.
Before the last tour, we spent like ten days practicing our sets with the aerial performers acting out their routines above our heads.
Since we only have them for a week, we’ve spent all afternoon practicing the set and coordinating to ensure we won’t be in their way when they let themselves unravel practically to the stage floor.
Except, wardrobe brought us our new masks for the week during the final run-through.
Now I’m pouty.
They’re crazy claustrophobic, and it’s hard to see anything. The neon glow is pretty cool, and it’s going to look sick when they’re lit up and the aerial performers are wearing the glowing blinking lights…
But I like my normal wolf mask.
I love that the mouth opens and closes.
I’m used to singing in it.
It’s fine.
I guess.
We only have to wear them for the next five or six shows, but somehow I got stuck with the bright pink one.
Now, I can rock the fuck out of some pink. It’s one of my favorite colors, but I’m pissed because mine is the most boring one.
Riser’s is purple with Xs for eyes and the mouth stitched closed.
Kincaid got a sick-as-fuck skull mask in this dark lime-green color.
Mine is like a jack-o’-lantern or maybe a clown.
Hell, I don’t even know what it is, outside of boring.
Tennyson’s has a nose hole like a skeleton and a mouth with a bunch of jagged teeth. It has an outline around the entire bottom half, making it look like a mask on top of a mask. The outline lights up red while the other features light up a dark blue.
Oh, and the eyes look like lightning bolts.
This is such bullshit.
Lightning bolt eyes, stitched mouth, and skull face… All of them are way cooler than a jack-o’-lantern.
Parish has the only mask that might be worse than mine. It’s an orange fox face, complete with ears.
I mean, fine.
It’s kinda cute.
Mine is definitely the worst.
Not only that. They’re putting us in these big-ass army jackets to cover the wires that light up the masks.
I was actually looking forward to not having to sweat bullets during one performance, but the masks have to be ultra-bright to be seen past the first rows of seats. They also need enough juice to last the nearly two-hour performance.
The only win of getting to Charlotte was finding out that we’re going to be in a hotel tonight and tomorrow night.
There’s something up with one of the tires on our bus, and the label doesn’t play around about safety.
They’re going to have it serviced while we’re here, which is crazy since it was just done.
Oh well, at least it means we get fancy accommodations for a couple nights.
“You’re pouty,” Lumen says, climbing into my lap as we chill in the greenroom.
Everyone is doing their own thing, but I glance around to make sure no one is paying attention to us.
They aren’t.
“What’s the matter?” she asks, studying my face.
My hands fall to her waist, and I shake my head. “I’m good.”
We should be called over to get into our stage clothes within the next thirty minutes to an hour.
Lumen’s hand falls to my chest.
The naughty little thing has radar to my nipple, and she gives it a playful pinch.
“Would you like to try that again, Malcolm?” she asks, fluttering her lashes. “Let’s not get into the habit of lying to one another. Yeah?”
“Sorry,” I mumble, sighing as she rubs the ache away. “Nothing has gone right today. I didn’t know we were going to be stuck practicing for five hours. I wanted to spend this afternoon doing something together. Like outside of the venue. I wanted to take you out. Just you and me.”
“Oh,” she whispers, bringing her hand to cup my cheek.
Her soft thumb runs over my lower lip, and her electric scent gets so much easier to pick out. There are sweet notes of pears and roses, but to me, there’s something much more complex going on with her scent.
Just being able to smell her soothes my system. Having her sitting in my lap while she touches me is even more relaxing.
“You’re disappointed about not being able to spend time together.” She smiles softly. “I thought you were getting bored of me. Or that you were frustrated I spent last night with Riser.”
“I won’t ever get bored of you,” I tell her, my brow furrowing. “But yeah, maybe I’ve felt a little left out.” I shrug. “Sometimes I overreact.”
Other times, my feelings get hurt for no reason.
It’s actually really fucking disruptive to have Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. Even when I don’t think there’s any reason someone should be upset with me, a simple change in their tone can send me into a spiral.
It’s not bad if I don’t care what that person thinks about me, but if it’s someone I care about, it can send me into a meltdown.
If they weren’t upset with me before I started spiraling, they will be by the end.
I know how to destroy a good thing like no one else.
“You can come in to sleep with me at any time,” Lumen says, pushing up on her knees until our faces are close together. Her bluish-gray eyes stay locked on mine. “I’ve never split my time between three people before. If I’m not equally—”
“No, you’re doing great,” I say, cutting her off.
She carefully danced around calling what we’re doing dating.
It gets under my skin a little, even if I understand she’s still healing from her last relationship.
It’s just frustrating because I’ve never wanted to be all in with someone, and I’m not known for being patient.
It doesn’t help that she’s had sex with K and Riser.
No matter how many times I remind myself it isn’t a race, it doesn’t help. Not even replaying the things we’ve done gets through to my head.
It’s not that I’m feeling rejected.
At least, not exactly.
It’s more like I know how good they’ll be for her. They’re both way better equipped at being a boyfriend than I am.
When I slept with her the other night, I only seemed to annoy her, rather than setting her at ease. She didn’t want me to make her come on the bus, but then she had shower sex with Riser the day after.
Logically, I can understand they’re two different environments. She probably didn’t want to risk destroying the sheets after she and Ry went to the laundromat to clean them.
And this is why I’m a fuckup.
She apologized for being snappy that night, and at first, I was totally fine.
She wasn’t feeling well, so there’s no reason to feel rejected.
I also understand she’s not obligated to want to fuck me.
Knowing all of that, why have I spent the last day and a half obsessing about it?
I like her so much.
I don’t want to be left behind.
Lumen’s chest presses against mine as she gets close to my ear.
“We haven’t seen the hotel yet to know the bed situation, but how about we share tonight?
” she asks, keeping her voice low enough that the others won’t be able to listen in.
“I’m always cranky on the first day of my period, but that’s finally over.
” She chuckles, making her warm breath fan down my neck.
“Okay, sometimes I’m moody for the first few days… ”
“It’s okay.” I run my hand up and down her back. “I bet it sucks. I shouldn’t have let it get to me.”
“Aww, Mal. I’m sorry.” She pulls back until our eyes meet. “Next time, be honest if I upset you.”
“I wasn’t upset,” I say, frowning. “Can we just start this conversation over?”
“No.” She laughs, pecking a kiss at the edge of my mouth. “Only because we need to be able to talk things through if one of us is upset or messes up, but I’m hoping we can spend some time together tonight.”
“That sounds good.”
“Perfect.” She beams, making my heart beat funny. “And if we get to bed at a reasonable time, we can go out for breakfast or lunch tomorrow. Just the two of us.”
I nod, swallowing thickly.
She might not be ready to call it what it is, but that sure as fuck sounds like a date to me.
Ten and Parish have a party going on in the living room of the suite. I don’t want to be an asshole, but they have like an hour or maybe an hour and a half to chill before I’ll have to go out there and show my ass.
Lumen and I have plans tomorrow morning, and I can’t have them keeping her up all night. Sure, we can do a little pick-me-up to get moving, but I don’t want her sleep-deprived and cranky on our first solo date.
The bed is comfortable, and I think we’re probably going to watch a movie and cuddle. That’s my assumption, anyway.
The bathroom door opens, and light streams out around Lumen.
I am so screwed.
She’s wearing a silk cream-colored spaghetti-strap tank top with black lace around the edges, paired with tiny black booty shorts. I almost groan as my head falls back against the pillows.
My hands slide down my sweats, and I regret not putting on underwear.
My cock perks up.
I fight the urge to push it back down. That would only encourage him, and he doesn’t need any of that.
When Lumen stretches back, cutting off the light, all we’re left with is the glow from the television screen and what streams in around the mostly pulled curtains.
I left them open a little so the morning light will helpfully get us moving if my alarms don’t do the job. I did research while she was getting changed, and I think I have a solid game plan for our date tomorrow.
Not a date.
Do not call it a date.
Whatever.
I have a plan for our non-date.
For our non-relationship.
Lumen comes to a stop at the end of the bed, and my head tilts. She plants her hands on the mattress on either side of my legs and crawls up my body.