8. Fireproof #2
Liv jumps in to disagree before I can finish deflecting.
She says I sounded perfect, that I was locked in, that I carried the groove exactly the way I always do.
The girls latch onto that immediately, the conversation morphing into some vaguely serious debate about bassists sticking together, about how nobody really understands an instrument unless they live inside it.
Liv talks with her hands, passionate and earnest, and I nod along because it’s simpler than anything I could offer.
Across the table, Natalia leans toward Signe and whispers something in her ear. I don’t know why it hits me the way it does. It’s stupid. Liv's been talking my ear off all night, filling the space between us whether she realizes it or not.
Still, something tightens in my chest when Natalia laughs at whatever's just been said, her shoulder brushing Signe’s arm.
It’s a reaction I don’t understand and don’t want to examine too closely.
When she pushes her chair back and heads toward the bathroom, my attention follows her without permission, my gaze tracking her until she disappears around the corner.
Liv says my name again, pulling me back, and I let it go. I have to.
After dinner, we head to a club Rafe insists on to celebrate our last night in Seoul.
It’s louder, darker, everything pressed closer together.
We’re set up in a VIP booth, couches arranged in a loose circle, bodies overlapping and moving with the music.
Rithy catches my eye and jerks his chin subtly toward Liv, a grin splitting his face like he’s watching something unfold exactly as expected.
Some fucking wildlife documentary. This one’s completely reeled in, his look says. I’ve seen it before.
The irony isn’t lost on me. Getting involved with Natalia would be catastrophic, but getting involved with Liv might be just as stupid. She’s the opening act. If that goes wrong, we’re stuck together for the rest of the tour. A mistake I’ve made before. A lesson I learned the hard way.
Signe’s knuckles graze casually along Natalia’s knee and my muscles tense before I can stop it.
Liv leans in close to say something, her lips ghosting my ear over the music, and I shiver despite myself.
Rafe and Kasia are completely wrapped up in their own orbit, nothing else exists.
I glance at them and feel a quiet happiness settle in my chest for Rafe.
He’s found something real, someone steady.
My eyes drift to Ronan and Freja and it’s the same there. The peace on Ronan’s face when he kisses her is grounded, certain. There’s a part of me that knows I’ve never felt that, not the way they do, and the realization feels heavier than I expect. Then my gaze finds Natalia again.
Even with Liv still talking, still trying to pull me into conversation over the music, I watch Natalia smile and blush at something Signe says, watch the way she reacts so openly, honestly.
I want to be the one who makes her do that.
The thought makes me tighten my hand into a fist, nails biting into my palm as I hold myself still, forcing restraint where instinct wants none.
Liv’s hand settles on my knee and I glance down at it like it belongs to someone else.
Like my body hasn’t quite caught up to the reality I’m trying to maintain.
Natalia taps Signe’s shoulder and stands, weaving her way toward the bar.
I give it five seconds. Just enough to pretend I tried. I excuse myself and follow.
The bar is chaos, bodies pressing in from all sides.
I step up behind her just as someone barrels past, shoving me forward.
Our bodies collide immediately. She turns quickly, ready to snap at some stranger, and then sees me.
Her expression softens before she looks away again, neutral.
I lean toward her ear and tell her I’m sorry. She shrugs like it means nothing.
I ask her what she wants, tell her I’m buying.
She waves me off, lifts her tiny clutch to show me Signe’s card already tucked inside.
My jaw tightens, just a little. I nod. Another body presses in and this time I react without thinking, my hand finding her waist to steady her, to shield her from the crush.
The contact lights me up instantly, heat rushing through places that have no business responding like that, especially not here, not now, not with everything this complicated.
I force my hand away as soon as the space opens.
The bartender finally reaches us. I insist on paying anyway and Natalia hesitates, then slips the card back into her clutch. Something in her eyes softens, like she’s about to say something. She tries, but the music swallows it, so I lean in closer, my ear near her mouth, every nerve alive.
“I thought you sounded amazing tonight,” she says.
The words go straight through whatever defenses I had left. I look down at her, throat tight, and lick my lips just to give myself something to do besides kiss her. Think about anything else, I tell myself. Anything.
Fuck.
Because standing here, pressed close in the middle of a crowded club, knowing how easily this could tip into something I can’t take back, all I can think is how badly I want to cross that line anyway.