Page 17 of Don't Bang a Bandmate

“You know why you’re here, right?” I ask anyway, just to be sure.

A smile touches the corner of his mouth. “Yup,” he says.

“Good. That’s... a good sign. Listen, Bronson, I’ve got a lot of work to do this morning, so?—”

“What time is it?” he asks, propped up on one arm.

“Five forty-five.”

“Oh, fuck off,”he groans as he drops his head down.

“Excuse me?”

“Not you,” he says, pushing up again when he hears my tone. “Not you, I mean. I find the concept of five forty-five offensive.”

“Understandable,” I say, nodding. “And you can totally go back to sleep.”

He drops again.

“But before you do…” I perch on the edge of the bed. “I wanted to, uh... talk to you. About last night.”

He doesn’t respond. Head down. Eyes closed.

“Bronson!”

He lurches awake again. “Yeah.”

“Last night,” I repeat. “Can we talk about it?”

With that, Bronson rolls over onto his back and sits up; eyes wide and ears open.

I sit up tall. “So…” I begin. “It was great!”

“You’re welcome,” he says, yawning.

“Yes. Thank you. I didn’t realize how much I needed…that. So, thank you, Bronson. And I, uh... well, I hope you got what you needed out of it, too. Not that youneedsex. I’m sure you’re well-taken care of in that department.”

He nods.

“Anyway, I just wanted to say that,” I say. “And to reiterate that last night was just... sex.”

“Just sex,” he repeats.

“Just a one-time thing,” I say. “I had an itch, and you scratched it.”

He doesn’t reply.

“So... we’re both cool with that, then?” I ask.

“Cool with what?” he asks.

“With last night being a one-time thing.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

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