2. Chapter One #2
I’m broader. Heavier. Certainly built like I’m from the ocean; there’s no doubt about that.
One thing that catches people’s attention is the fact that I have no hair on my body.
Not one strand. The other thing people love are my suckers.
I don’t see why they’re so fascinating. Maybe because they don’t have them.
I’ve lost count of the number of humans who’ve told me I have arms that are missing suckers. When I tell them it’s because I have two tentacles, they frown and tell me it’s the same thing… as if I don’t know my own anatomy.
The difference, you ask? My arms are lined with suckers from base to tip. The tentacles are longer, faster, with suckers only at the ends. Underwater, they’re what I use to hunt. Big difference.
I watch Leif as he adjusts a few things. Lifting drums half an inch, turning them just the slightest. His brow is furrowed in deep concentration, making sure everything is just right.
For me.
“I’m not that picky, am I?” I ask with a small laugh.
He glances at me with a smirk. “Just want to make sure I’m doing a good job.”
“You always do a good job,” I say.
“We’ve only just started the tour,” he says, hitting the crash cymbal then grabbing it to silence it.
“But all the practices…”
He starts playing something using the whole kit. I recognize the tune immediately because it’s one of ours.
Melody of the Heart.
“You play that almost better than I do,” I say.
He barks out a laugh, standing up and shoving the sticks into his back pocket.
He’s easily a foot shorter than me in this form, but when I’m human, it’s only about six inches.
Digging into his front pocket, he pulls out something red that he tosses into his mouth, bringing way too much attention to it.
The way his jaw works, showing off how defined it is.
Those full, pink lips… My dick twitches in my jeans, and I have to think of something else because there’s no hiding that thing when it gets hard.
Which is why I started getting my pants made a size too small—my dick has a mind of its own when it comes to Leif Hale, and the last thing I need is to get a giant monster hard-on right in front of him.
The snug pants keep it contained well enough, but it’s never comfortable.
I don’t need him quitting on me over sexual harassment.
“Impossible,” Leif says, his eyes bright with mischief. “I only have two hands.”
He holds them up to show them off, as if I don’t stare at them every chance I get. Who knew tattoos could make hands ten times sexier?
My name is plastered across magazines as the best drummer to have ever existed… because of my advantage. I can play multiple drums at once, more than any other drummer can, because I have so many arms and tentacles, while humans have fewer options.
It’s unfair. I’ll be the first one to say it. And I don’t fucking like it.
It’s not fair to be called the best when no one else compares. It’s like cheating. I’m only better than everyone else because there isn’t anyone else. Bring up some more kraken from the ocean, teach them how to play, and then we can talk.
My name is one of those things in magazines that I ignore. The articles don’t make me happy like I thought they would. But playing does, and that’s all I care about. So, I ignore that and just keep playing.
The way I play? It makes our music different.
It’s our sound. Unmistakable and unique.
It’s us. I just wish the critics and fans would stop comparing me to everyone else.
The things humans do with their limited abilities are what should be celebrated, and more than once I wish I’d joined a human band rather than this one.
At least then I could show my real talent and not be glorified for my abilities due to limbs I can’t stand.
I could show them that I’m just as talented with two arms and two feet.
But this is where I ended up, this is where I am, and I don’t hate it. I just want more, I guess.
“Sometimes I wish I only had two hands. These things get in the way.”
All my arms lift about an inch, then drop back down.
He huffs out a laugh. “Good thing you don’t have to wear shirts. Imagine trying to find all the right arm holes.”
I laugh, the sound deep yet almost bubbly, thanks to that weird echo thing.
“You caught me. Why do you think I don’t wear them?”
His grin grows and we stare at each other like dopey idiots for way too long, until he finally says, “Have a good show tonight, Aliko.” But there’s something in his tone.
Something slightly suggestive that makes no sense with what he said.
Perhaps he wanted to say something else?
Plenty of people get weird when talking to me.
Either because I’m a monster, or because I’m famous, I’m not sure, but I do wish people would talk to me normally the way they talk to everyone else.
Leif usually does, which is why I’m so confused about this…
“Thanks. See you after?” I say, sounding too hopeful.
“You know it.”
He heads off stage, shoving his hand into his pocket again to pull out more candy. I don’t know what it is he is always eating, but I wish I did. I’d buy him an unlimited supply. They smell like cherry, which is now a scent I relate to him.
I stand there, watching him go, wondering if I’d have more balls to ask him out if I were human.
Only human. Like him. He’s never acted like he was interested in me in any form, though I don’t see him overly flirty with anyone.
Not even the hot girls who throw their bras and panties at us.
He could be the most professional person on the planet, or maybe he’s just not into anyone.
Maybe he’s married but doesn’t wear a ring.
That’s a common thing, I hear. Not that it matters.
Hooking up with my drum tech is the last thing I should do, especially at the beginning of our first tour.
What if things go wrong? Worse. What if they go right?
How much of a distraction is that? Nope.
It’s bad enough he distracts me now. Imagine if I saw him naked?
Imagine if I knew what his cock looked like? Nope. Don’t need that.