Page 52 of Goodbye Note

“Don’t be mad, sweetheart. I promise it didn’t mean anything.” Arik gave me a flat look, payback for joining the ambush.

How did I end up the straight one in this conversation? What a surreal moment. But Arik’s willingness to joke about sucking dick gave me some hope.

“Oh, I’m mad. You’ll be making this up to me!” I tugged the neck of my tee down enough to expose the MINE he’d written there. “Does this mean nothing to you?”

The rest of the guys gasped and pushed in to get a better look.

Arik pushed his tongue into his cheek and shook his head behind them all. “I meant what I said.”

“You guys have sixty seconds,” Dylan called.

Arik scanned over the paper. “Fuck.”

“This is not over!” I whispered, stepping up beside him.

“No fucking shit,” Val added. “I have so many questions.”

“You and me both!” Ser scoffed.

Dylan gave us our cue, and we slipped onto the dark stage. The crowd screamed, knowing we were onstage, but they erupted when they spotted Serafin and Arik.

Fox started us in, and Arik stepped up next to me to play the intro. That motherfucker knew every note. He’d been called a musical savant before, and I could tell why. He leaned into me as he hit the pre-chorus, our shoulders rubbing together. He smirked and let his gaze flick to the Sharpie on my arm.

I shook my head, grinning right back, glad the MINE couldn’t be seen and only half of the Property of. His name was hidden on my bicep, nicely tucked under the sleeve of my tee. But it felt good to have it there. Have it half out. Knowing they’d all know. Warmth bloomed through my chest.

Ser played, feeling out the vibe with Val and me for the verses. But he joined in our harmony at the chorus. Had he not had his own successful band, I would have immediately asked him to join ours.

I missed the contact when I had to sing, but Arik took the opportunity to bring his energy to the stage. All the guys in Dopamine-Fiend were introverts save for Fox, and he couldn’t really get up from the drums to have the type of stage presence Arik did.

And he did it all without speaking.

The crowd ate it up. He flipped around and interacted all while playing. It was like watching a master class on rock star energy.

Watching him was exhilarating.

Serafin stayed for two songs, then bowed out.

Arik faded to the back, happy to be onstage and add an extra sound. He found some boldness as our set went on, tweaking our rifts and lines to add a deeper melody to what Val and I played. Motherfucker made it sound better, too.

He walked up to Val in one of our long guitar solos and stood face-to-face, their fingers inches apart as they both played.

They looked so fucking hot. Glistening with sweat under the stage lights, Arik’s dark hair was a mess from all the times he’d shoved it out of his face, making it look like sex hair.

Jealousy ripped through my veins, my heart beating faster.

I knew how selfish it was, but I wanted all his attention to myself.

* * *

Since we were headliners, our set closed out the night, and we helped Dylan take it down as quickly as possible so we could go party. All of us high from the hype, we carried it to our bus. The front lounge overflowed with the band, our crew, and fans our manager had given backstage passes to. The beer flowed and someone came with joints.

The night wound down as people passed out or left to find someplace quiet to hook up. Our bus call time was in an hour, which spurred a lot of them to get moving.

Arik and I sprawled out on the sofa next to Ser, who was making out with two girls, which was weird for him. Vallen had vanished, probably to the back lounge with someone, as was his usual MO.

“Want to get out of here?” Arik said, glancing over at Ser, who did not give a single fuck we were next to him.

“Where do you want to go?” We didn’t have much time.

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