Chapter 33 #2
Why did it have to be him?
It’s really fucking hard to like someone who has what you want. It’s horrible. And as much as I wish I could hate him for it, I can’t.
“I’m not crying,” I force out, my voice rough.
“Of course not,” he says softly. “But just in case, I’d like to sit with you for a little while.”
I swallow hard and subtly wipe my face. Sitting up, I stare at his back.
Wearing a tank top and some shorts, his bare shoulders slump.
Tugging my knees to my chest, I listen to the silence between us, wondering why he’s here.
The wounded part of me wants to make him leave—wants to make sure he’s aware of Devon’s affections and that he’s the reason I feel so fucking bad.
“Why are you upset?” he asks after a while.
I decide not to answer. It’s too revealing. No one knows what transpired between Devon and me in Chicago. I plan on keeping it that way. “Why were you upset?” I counter.
Raking a hand through his hair, he sighs. “I made a mistake I can’t take back. And now I don’t know what to do about it.”
I blink. Surprised. I’m not sure what to say, either.
My first thought is to ask, what kind of mistake? Something clearly happened between him and Devon. They steered clear of each other the entire show and afterward. Michael wouldn’t even look at him.
Oh fuck it. I’m not one to mince words, and I deserve to know if Devon professed his undying love after claiming he wanted me. “Does it have to do with Devon?”
He flinches. Flinches. Like I slapped him. “That obvious, huh?” he whispers.
“Of course it is,” I say dryly. “You two are inseparable on stage, any other time.”
Dropping his head into his palms, he croaks, “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing anymore.”
Why do I care that he sounds just as broken as I feel? Why am I knee-walking closer? Why am I placing my hand on his shoulder? His muscles tense under my palm. “Do you want to talk about it?” I hear myself ask.
It seems no matter who I say that to, the answer is always no.
But again, he surprises me. “I want to. Fuck, I want to talk about it, but I can’t. The words just won’t come out. And out of everyone, I could tell, it’d be you.”
“Me?” I squeak, resting on my haunches.
He glances over his shoulder. “Yeah,” he says. “I know I can trust you.”
I let my hand fall away because touching him feels too personal. My mind races over his admission, a stupid flutter forming low in my belly. Like a bolt of lightning, that drunken phone call I’d answered back in Chicago strikes my psyche.
Don’t even get me started on Lex.
What did he mean by that? I scoot closer absently. “You can trust me.”
His lips curl up a fraction before dropping. “I still remember the first time I saw you.”
“In Jorge’s garage?” I pry, knowing that wasn’t the first time. It took me a while to realize it, but he was there the night that changed me forever.
Shaking his head, he twists so he’s facing me.
It hits me in a rush. How close we are. His thigh brushes against my clothed knee.
“The Anti-Ponk show. I was keeping an eye on you because you were so short.” He smirks.
“Even so, you were a force to be reckoned with. Pushing and shoving through people like you owned the place.”
Thank god it’s dark in here, otherwise he’d see my blush.
“I was on a mission,” I admit. “I was trying to be up front when Devon stage dived.”
“It was pretty bad ass when he did that,” he muses, smiling softly.
“It was my favorite,” I say softly. “But you made sure I missed the opportunity. Plowed me straight into the ground.”
“So you did know it was me.”
Oh hell, my cheeks burn. “Guilty.” I shrug helplessly.
Chuckling and shaking his head, he says, “Why did you pretend you didn’t?”
“Because I wanted to see how you remembered it. I had no clue you were stalking me the entire show.”
He gasps in faux offense. “I was hardly stalking you. It’s concert etiquette to look out for the little guys.”
“Mhm. Sure.”
“It was! I didn’t want you to get hurt.”
See! This is why it’s impossible to hate Michael. “Well, thank you for making sure I was okay, then.”
“Of course,” he says smoothly. “Feeling better?”
Surprisingly, I am. “Yeah, actually. I guess I just needed…” Not to be alone.
“I got you, Lex,” he tells me and pats my leg. We both glance down at his hand. His touch lingers. When I peek up at him, a question in my eyes, he clears his throat and removes his palm. “I should hit the hay.” He forces a yawn that I don’t believe for a second.
“You…could stay for a bit longer. I don’t mind.” What are you doing, Lex?
“Probably shouldn’t,” he murmurs. It’s a quick movement, one that catches me off guard, but I spot it all the same. He just looked at my mouth. With a heavy sigh, he stands up, stretches, and yawns again.
I shamelessly look at his stomach. The tank rides up high enough to give me a full view of his lower abs. When I meet his eyes again, he’s got that look again. The one he gave me earlier in the hallway. The one he’s given me plenty of times before. I wish I knew what it means. That searching.
“Goodnight, Michael,” I say, holding his gaze.
He swallows hard. “Goodnight, Lex.”
The man doesn’t move, though. I rise up on my knees, feeling drawn to the moment. My skin buzzes and tingles. He’s only inches away from me, still so close. Fingers twitching and a rush of want spreading through me, I wet my lips, loving that he tracks the movement.
Gingerly reaching forward, I let my fingers brush over his hand. “Thanks again.”
“You’ll be alright?” he says, voice low and gruff.
What is happening? What the fuck are we doing?
I should say the obvious. Yes, I’m fine. Go ahead and go to bed. But I’m a selfish man. I’ve always been a selfish man.
“It’s nice having company,” I tell him, a subtle invitation to stay.
“Got any movies?” he asks, eyeing my laptop.
My heart races. “Um. Yeah. Yeah, I have a few.” I scramble to open the laptop.
Plopping down on my ass, I scoot over so he can sit beside me.
He climbs onto the bed, the warmth of his body instantly cocooning me.
Biting my lip, I tear my eyes away and load up Netflix.
He leans closer, scanning the screen. His arm presses into mine as his cologne invades my senses.
While we browse the downloads I have saved, his shorts scrape against my pajamas.
“What about this one?” God, his voice right now. It’s so deep and rough. Like he’s swallowed a bucket of gravel.
It takes me a moment before I’m able to focus on the screen. I swallow the lump in my throat. “Sure.”
The opening credits for some sci-fi flick start, but I can’t seem to register anything in front of me. My breaths punch out of my nose as I take greedy inhales. He shifts a bit, getting more comfortable and, by extension, pressing closer to my side.
Fuck.
What am I doing? Am I that desperate? I’ve seen him sit like this with every member of the band, with the exception of Oli.
This is how he is with his friends, right? Unbearably fucking close?
So close that they can feel his breath on their neck?
“You smell nice,” he whispers.
“Thanks,” I whisper back.
The movie volume is just low enough to be heard without waking everyone on the bus. We watch in silence for a while—well, he watches, and I struggle through waves of heat and panic.
Michael is hot. Anyone with eyes can see that. All that corded muscle, the way he carries himself, those fluffy blonde locks that always fall into his eyes. He’s got some scruff on his face currently, accentuating his chin and mouth.
“Lex?”
“Yeah?” I refuse to even peek in his direction.
“Can we move the laptop?”
“Oh. Um.” I scoot to the side so there’s space between us, but he plucks the laptop from me and places it on my right. My heart is a battle drum trying to burst through my rib cage. “I’m blocking half the screen now,” I manage to choke out.
“I can see just fine,” he rumbles.
“O-Okay.”
What is he doing?
The hairs on the back of my neck rise. Goosebumps sprout all over my arms. “Lex?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake! I’m barely hanging on by a thread here. Giving in to this fucked up temptation, I dare to look at him. “Is this okay?”
“What?” I frown, but it quickly morphs into shock when his hand slips into mine.
“I’ve wanted to do this for…a while,” he admits softly, stroking his long fingers over the top of my hand.
“Hold someone’s hand?” I can’t stop looking at where we are connected.
“Your hand.”
“Mine?”
“Look at me, please.” I glance up. He takes a shaky breath. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I’ll probably regret it tomorrow. But it’s safe here…in the dark…with you.”
I don’t know what to do. While I’m not entirely dense, I didn’t see this coming. Maybe I should have?
Lately, I’ve tried to distance myself from the band.
Being around Devon hurts too much, so I became a ghost. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel anything towards Michael.
Safe. Wanted. Those two feelings helped me try to see the deeper meaning behind his recent fuck ups.
It’s why I followed him earlier. That's why I asked him to stay.
I’ve always wanted him to stay, I realize.
“Don’t regret it,” I beg. It’s pathetic, but it’s the truth. I’m so sick of being a regret.
His hold on my hand tightens. “I have a lot to work through,” he tells me. “I made a terrible mistake already. I don’t want to do it twice.”
“So don’t. Don’t let it be a mistake. Let it be a choice.”
“That’s the thing, Lex,” he says softly. “It’s not a choice. It’s who I am. I’m tired of fighting it back. Tired of feeling like I can’t have what I want.”
“I know how that feels.” I cup our conjoined hands. “It should be easy, but good things rarely are.”
“How do you know that it’d be good?” His eyes are so bright with vulnerability. I don’t think I’ve ever been able to see him as clearly as I do right now.
“I guess there’s no way to know for sure. You just have to take the leap and hope you don’t fall.”
He nods, thinking. A few beats pass before he leans in and kisses my cheek. “Thank you.”
Heat blooms from the top of my head down to my toes. I gasp as his lips leave my skin. My eyes drop to his mouth. “Michael?” I don’t know what I’m asking, only that I am in fact asking it.
“Take the leap, right?” he says before cupping my face and crushing his lips into mine.