Page 63 of Take My Hand

“Yeah, I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“Well, you did. Please tell me you have a good excuse for going silent on me?”

There’s no reason to keep this from him. He is my best friend, after all.

“I was with Carter,” I admit, and he punches me in the arm. I’m sure he meant it to be playful, but sometimes the dude doesn’t know his own strength.

“I fucking knew it! We both did.” He smiles at me and shakes my shoulder.

Rubbing my bicep with a wince, I ask, “Who’s ‘we’?”

“Me and Scar.”

“Of course.” Scar and Carter became pretty close friends on tour. And the idea that Carter’s possibly talked about me to her has my chest inflating and my steps becoming a little lighter, a little bouncier.

“I mean, I got vibes after the whole Daniel situation went down, but then when we went over to her apartment to help her move, I thought it wouldn’t be long before you’d finally pull your head out of your ass and see that she was into you.”

My brows shoot low as I turn to him. “What do you mean? You thought she’s been into me for a while?”

He looks at me as if I’m stupid. “Dude, she basically eye-fucked you the moment you took your shirt off that day. Scar and I debated leaving the two of you to get to it but neither of you seemed like you were going to act on it.”

I open my mouth, but he continues, “And I don’t know how you never noticed that she always takes the most photos of you. I mean, no offense, but c’mon now. If anyone should have the most shots, it should be Nikolai. But whenever she sends through carousels for us, you always outdo us almost two to one.”

My mind spins as I think back and look for signs that I might have missed. But honestly, what’s the point of it now? Whether we wasted time or danced around each other, too scared to act on our attraction, it doesn’t matter now. Because we’ve finally crossed that line and I don’t see us going back.

“I’m happy for you, man. You deserve it. You both do.”

I give him a light punch of my own in thanks.

“But next time, don’t leave me in an interview like that again. Shit wasn’t fun.” His face darkens as we approach the stage.

“Sorry. Won’t happen again.”

The four of us climb the metal stairs to get up the platform, where we get our in-ears set up and instruments in place.

Walker twirls a purple drumstick around his fingers, bouncing in place. “Don’t think this is the last time we’re talking about this though. I need all the details,” he says, smiling at me.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Drinks in my room after this?”

I hesitate, but agree. I was hoping to spend the night with Carter, but I can’t turn him down. We haven’t been able to spend much time together just the two of us lately. He’s been busy with Scar and I’ve been wrapped up in my own stuff, so it’ll be nice to catch up.

Nikolai comes to stand on my other side, unbuttoning the entire length of his baby blue shirt. Oh, the crowd is going to love that one tonight.

“I assume you were busy with a certain photographer?” he asks, staring ahead at the stage.

I shoot him a look and his eyes dart over to meet mine briefly before he breaks out into a smile.

“Thought so. Finally.”

The moment feels normal, like we’re back to how it’s always been. Light, fun camaraderie amongst brothers.

But Reid steps up on the other side of Nikolai, adjusting the strap to his Fender and shoots me an icy look that pops the bubble instantly.

He doesn’t say anything, just turns his attention to the stage where the lights flutter out and the crowd screams in anticipation.

Where there was once serenity in my brain, there’s now a slow, creeping sense of dread.

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