Page 37 of Don't Bang a Bandmate

“I said I’d think about it.”

Knox sneers in disgust. “That’s calledconsidering it,Jordan.”

“I just wanted to leave, so I told him what he wanted to hear. What else was I supposed to do?”

“Tell him to go fuck himself! That’s what I did.”

“Knox.”It’s Bronson warning him this time. “Back off.”

And this time, he listens. Knox bows his head and shifts a step back. “Sorry,” he says to me. “This just... really sucks.”

“I know,” I say. “It really does.”

He rubs his face before pushing his hands through his hair in frustration. As a new silence stretches between us, I look at Bronson, hoping to meet his gaze.

But his eyes are down now, locked on the floor.

“It’s probably good you didn’t shoot it down outright,” Addison says.

Jonah nods, his eyes sharp beneath his blue beanie. “I thought the same thing.”

“What do you mean?” Harmony asks.

“If Monroe is dumb enough to approach Jordan directly,” Addison says, “then he’s dumb enough to keep talking.”

“He’ll dig his own grave eventually,” Jonah says. “If you don’t mind playing along for a little while, Jordan.”

I shrug. “Sure.”

Knox snorts softly, but he says nothing. He doesn’t point out the obvious: that lying to the boss breaks a bunch of rules. Jordan doesn’t do that.

Jordan never does that.

As my eyes stray toward Bronson, Katrina clears her throat.

“Guess we’re working with The Electrics now,” she says, flashing a brief and nervous smile.

No one replies. It’s technically correct.

Doesn’t mean we like it.

“Harvey and I are heading out,” Addison tells me as the others trickle out of my room, their heads and shoulders heavy with thoughts. “As shitty as this evening has been so far, we made beach party plans with Drew and his Alpha Delta Zoo buddies.”

“Alpha Delta Xi,”Harvey corrects by her side, their hands locked together.

“Whatever. I’ll get it someday,” Addison says, lovingly rolling her eyes as she turns back to me. “That cool?”

“Fine with me,” I say with a shrug. “Have a good night. Breakfast bright and early. Eight o’clock.”

“Nine would be brighter, though,” she hints.

“But eight is an hour earlier, so...”

She deflates, then smiles. “Fine. We’ll see you at eight.”

“Goodnight, you guys,” I say.

“Goodnight!”

---