第30章
ELASTIC HEART
At some point, I’m going to need to unblock Devon.
I’m here early, as per usual, and I’m staring at his contact information, chewing my lip. Two months of zero contact have been…hard. But it’s for the best. I refuse to get hurt any more than I already have.
Besides, when I get back from this tour, Taylor and Omar agreed to meet up. We’ve hooked up a few times in the past, and maybe…maybe they’ll want to go on a date. Omar kind of hinted at it. Of course, that was after I sent him a picture of my ass.
It feels like a betrayal. How come I did that? Am I that desperate?
Maybe I did it to…feel something—proof that I’m fine without Devon. It was just a lapse of judgment due to forced proximity. Right?
The real reason feels more insidious. I only even messaged the couple out of spite, jealousy, and heartache. If I'm Devon’s placeholder, then they are his. I don’t need him.
Sighing, I put my phone away, leaving him blocked and mentally prepared for the shitshow.
Phoenix and Eli are the first to arrive at the tour bus. They’re freshly showered, eyes blissed out with unfiltered love. It’s disgusting. The rest of the band follows suit. Kelly shows up just after they do. She hugs me fiercely and kisses my cheek.
“I missed you,” she says happily. “It’s going to be so cool having you with us.
We can paint each other’s toes, and I can show you inspo pics for my wedding, and oh my god, did you see Lumi’s new post?
” She scrambles for her phone, revealing just her homescreen, and I realize fast it’s a screenshot of her imaginary future wife, Lumi Virtanen.
“She looks like she’d break me in half,” I muse. The woman is jacked.
“She’s perfect,” Kelly sighs dreamily.
“It’s going to be so funny watching you choke up when we have to share a stage with them.”
“Nonsense,” she commands and grins. “She’s going to take one look at me and fall so hard and fast it’ll be—”
“Oh my god, Kel! Did you see Lumi’s new post?” Jorge blurts as he all but falls out of the Uber.
They gush over it together while Oliver gives me a polite head nod.
Michael is the next to show up. He looks put together and not hungover, which is a definite plus.
“Let me guess, Lumi’s new post?” he drawls lazily before smirking at Kelly.
“Isn’t she lovely?”
Jorge starts singing the damn song, and I groan. “Let’s load up, yeah?”
“Devon isn’t here yet,” Phoenix says.
Exactly. Which is why I’d like to be on the bus, preferably tucked into the back suite.
I firmly claimed it last week when the band couldn’t agree on who got the nice private room. I do. I’m the fucking manager.
“We can load up,” Michael agrees almost too quickly, giving me a weird smile. A pained smile, I realize.
He opens the compartment for our luggage. The equipment was loaded in a separate truck last night. I let him handle my things except my small suitcase for the suite. “Thanks,” I say.
“Of course,” he says easily and starts helping the others load up.
While they do that, I take the opportunity to climb the shallow steps and head inside.
The happy energy buzzing through the tour bus comes to an abrupt halt when Devon finally arrives.
Kelly wouldn’t let me hide in the back, so I’m on the sofa beside her, monitoring the band’s social media pages, and pretending I’m just a piece of upholstery.
I think we all kind of expected Michael to be the one rolling in, looking like a hot mess, and garbling nonsense. So the fact that it’s Devon forces everyone to pause and stare.
I can’t stomach looking at him directly, but in my peripheral vision, I see his undyed hair, face scruff, and half-zipped duffel bag. Are those slippers on his feet?
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I focus on my laptop.
“You look like roadkill,” My cousin supplies not-so-helpfully.
Devon grunts, shoves through, and throws his bag on an empty bunk.
“Everyone ready to go?” Terry, their driver, asks from the cockpit, as Jorge dubbed it.
“Let’s hit the road,” Jorge says excitedly, but sobers fast when Devon doesn’t join them. He slumps into the bunk and shuts the privacy curtain.
Unable to resist, I peek at Michael. If anyone knows what’s wrong, it’s him, right? I’m still jealous, obviously. It hurt coming to that horrible realization that I’ll never be that man, but I’m working. I have a job to do.
Dreadful’s lead guitarist is sheet-white, eyes glazed over, staring at his shoes. My instinct is to start barking orders, to give everyone a strict schedule, and make sure the band is on the same page.
But a thick cloud settles within the bus. Shifty eyes, confused grumbles, and I know my nasty attitude won’t help.
“Let’s watch a movie,” Phoenix offers as Terry turns over the engine.
“Good idea, baby,” Eli says and grabs the remote. It’s only a tiny screen mounted on the wall separating the bus's front from the mock living room area, but it’ll work.
Michael sits down, wipes his palms over his jeans, and then takes one of the water bottles sitting on the small table. I discreetly pull out my phone while everyone argues over which movie to put on. When I’m sure no one is looking, I text him.
Me: Are you okay? You look nauseous.
It sends, and I wait. Michael jerks a little—his phone must’ve gone off in his pocket. He reads the text and flicks his eyes up to me. Offering a tight smile that doesn’t reach my eyes, I glance at his phone pointedly.
With a sigh, he types.
Michael: Just a stomach ache. I’m fine.
I frown at my screen.
Whatever. It’s obviously more than that, but it’s not my place to pry. It’s not like we’re friends or anything else.
I already hate this.
We’ve been on the road for who knows how long, the sun is setting, and despite the few stops so Terry can use the facilities, it feels never-ending.
And it’s nowhere near being over. We haven’t even reached our first destination yet.
California is too fucking big. It takes too long to drive out of the state, especially when traveling north.
I’m bored out of my mind and feel even more lonely than usual.
Devon has only made brief appearances to piss and steal a few snacks.
Michael is as far away from the bunks as humanly possible, even opting to sit up by Terry for a handful of hours.
The rest of Dreadful seems perfectly at home.
The jokes are free-flowing, light banter, and a few cat naps here and there.
But I’m left out of it. They don’t include me whatsoever.
Granted, I haven’t really made much of an effort, either.
I’m sure they won’t mind if I just go to bed.
There’s no point in staying up late just to be a fucking observer.
No one seems to care when I casually get up and stretch, and they don’t mention it when I gather my laptop and water jug. Kelly glances away from the movie at the last moment, her eyes softening.
“Tired, Lexy?”
I give her a tight smile. “Exhausted. Goodnight.”
“See you in the morning.”
A clipped nod, and then I powerwalk towards the back. Devon closed the partition a long time ago, so I slide that open and hold my breath. Gently closing it behind me, I start tiptoeing past his bunk when a wild hand snakes out and grabs my wrist. I barely contain the yelp.
“Devon,” I whisper-hiss. “What the fuck.”
He shoves the curtain aside and gets on his feet. “Why haven’t you texted or called?”
I swallow.
“Was it really that bad?” Dark circles are under his eyes, and the whites around his hazel irises are bloodshot.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was crying. But Devon doesn’t cry—not even happy tears. He searches my face for long seconds, and I drop my gaze to the floor. It’s hard to look at him. Having such high hopes and then having them get squashed sucks.
“I’d rather not talk about it. We need to…stay professional,” I hear myself mumble.
“Professional,” he parrots, toneless.
I nod fast. “Please let me go.”
He drops my wrist. “It’s fucked up—what you did. I thought something happened. Something bad. And imagine my shock when I found out you just packed up and left without so much as a fuck you for a goodbye.”
Wincing, I try to shimmy past him in the narrow space, but he crowds me. My back thumps against the opposite bunk stack. “Devon,” I warn. He’s too close to me. I’m still too raw, even though it’s been months. “They’re right behind that flimsy door.”
“Don’t care. I want to know why.”
If I explain myself, it’ll only make me look more desperate. He’s seen too much anyway—knows how I feel about him—and he still took advantage of my willingness. I told him things I’ve never told anyone.
Fuck, I cried in front of him. Naked.
Curling my arms around myself protectively, I shake my head.
“I said I didn’t want to talk about it.”
He blows out an angry breath. “I deserve an explanation, Lex.”
"No, you don’t," I snap. "You don’t deserve anything. I saw the two of you. I watched you just…forget about me!" My voice rises, then falters as I cringe. "Leave me alone," I push him away and flee to the suite, sliding the tiny door shut.