Page 22 of For Eva

Eric’s eyes burned into us, his fists squeezed at his sides and nostrils flared.

“Calm down, dude,” Matt said, cracking open a beer from the case beside the drum kit where Will sat resting his head in his hands. “I’ve been trying to get Denise over here formonths. She’s not leaving. Eva, either.”

Eric narrowed his eyes at Matt. “Who’s Denise?”

“Jesus Christ. This is Denise”—I shoved my thumb out to the left before pointing to myself—“and I’m Eva. The one you have some huge fucking issue with for reasons you’re just gonna have to get the fuck over because I’m not leaving.” My eyes widened, even though I was trying my hardest to appear unfazed by the volume of my own voice.

Denise snickered and took a seat on the couch, punctuating the fact that we weren’t going anywhere. Eric’s jaw clenched as he studied my face. I squared my shoulders and raised my chin, refusing to look away. He finally rolled his eyes to the side and uncrossed his arms, muttering a “whatever” before taking another long pull off his bottle of whiskey.

I blew out a breath and rested my forehead on Danny’s shoulder.

“Holy shit, can you yell at me like that sometime just for fun?” he whispered as he ran his fingers along my arm, causing a soft chuckle to escape my lips. “But seriously, I'll talk to him, okay? He’s not gonna treat you like that.”

I nodded, then sank into the sofa beside Denise, thanking Will as he brought us each a beer. Danny walked back to his guitar and slipped the strap over his shoulder. Eric turned to look at him, hesitating for a moment before mumbling the title of a song.

As they moved through the next several numbers, the tension visibly lessened among the band. Danny and Eric occasionally glanced over at one another, communicating in some sort of unspoken language, nodding and pointing in ways I could only assume meant something worked or didn’t. Their partnership was clearly important to the group, which made me wonder why they were so at odds when they weren’t playing.

Besides the fact that Eric was a dick, of course.

At the end of a song about a relationship gone wrong, Eric held a note a bit too long, and his voice cracked like a pubescent Peter in the episode where the Brady kids decided to cut a record. I slapped my hand over my mouth in an attempt to stifle the alcohol-soaked laughter that so desperately wanted to escape. Of course, I failed miserably and the air that vibrated against my palm produced a cacophony ofpffftsand snorts.

“Something funny, Eva from Illinois?” Eric asked into the mic.

“No.” I pressed my lips together, trying to regain my composure. “Sorry. Not funny.”

“Are you sure? Because it sounds like you think something is absolutely fucking hilarious.” The defensive tone in his voice sparked a sense of satisfaction in me, like the tables had turned andhewas now having to endure the pain of unwanted scrutiny.

Denise leaned her head on my shoulder, the laughter ripping through her body causing me to giggle and spill some of my drink on my jeans.

Eric glared at Danny, who shrugged, holding his hands up to indicate he wasn’t my handler.

“It’s just that you were giving Danny shit for missing a note and your voice cracked like Peter fucking Brady,” I spurted through my laughter.

Will played a quick rim shot on his drums, and Danny nearly choked on the beer he’d just taken a sip of. Matt cocked his head and creased his brow like he’d never seen an episode ofThe Brady Bunchin his life.

“You know what? Fuck this.” Eric threw his mic to the ground. “I’ll be back when those two”—he pointed at me and Denise—“are gone.” He stormed out of the warehouse, slamming the door behind him.

I looked at Danny, who was shaking his head at Matt, and pressed my hand against my chest. “Oh my God. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Danny laughed. “Don’t apologize, he does this at least once a rehearsal. He’ll be back in three, two—”

Before Danny could finish his countdown, the door swung open, and Eric stomped back inside.

“Fine,” he said, looking straight ahead. “Let’s do that one again.”

“Fuuuuuck,” Danny groaned, his breath warm against my cheek. “How do you feel so fucking good?”

My legs stretched along the mattress as the weight of his body pressed against me, and I smiled, fingering the damp curls that had formed on the nape of his neck. He rolled onto his back, and I watched as his heart pumped furiously inside his chest, gradually slowing along with his breaths.

It was past eleven the night of the band rehearsal, and after days of living in a story woven from every hope and dream I’d ever had about us, I was starting to wonder how it would end.

I pulled the thin blanket crumpled at the foot of the mattress over us and curled against him. “It’s so much better now that we know what we're doing, isn’t it?”

His lips quirked, and he turned to face me. “Are you implying I haven'talwaysbeen the sexual master I am today?”

“Maybe.” I chuckled. “We were such kids. I sure as hell didn’t know whatIwas doing half the time.”

He smiled and brushed my hair off my forehead. “Well, you definitely do now.”

---