Page 22 of Inevitable

Micah's eyebrows shot up in interest. “Sounds fun! What's the band like?”

“They're called Crimson Exodus. They're like an alternative rock band, and take it from me, their lead singer is smoking,” Rhys said, a light blush crossing his face. “If you like bands like Bad Omens or A Day To Remember, you'll probably like them! What do you think?” Rhys' eyes were alight with excitement, waiting for our answers.

I had heard of Cheer Up Charlies before. It was a vegan place with funky cocktails and live music that catered to the LGBTQ+ community and was extremely popular in the Red River District a few blocks from campus. Any other time, it wouldn't have bothered me and I would have been down to go, but the only idea running through my head was how easy it would be for Micah to meet someone there…someone who could be with him and love him like he deserved.Shit, I didn't know how I would handle it if that happened…

Before I could chime in and turn down the offer, Micah piped in. “Hell yeah, that sounds awesome! Bash, you in?” he turned to me, eyes expectant and bright. I couldn't deny him. I never could.

“Sure. Sounds like a blast.”

The two of them continued on talking and making plans for tomorrow, but the unwanted images of Micah and some faceless guy kept storming through my head, intrusive and torturous. I had no real reason to be so anxious, but my brain kept blaring a repeated warning:

Nothing good can come from this concert.

CHAPTER 11

Micah

Ihad never been a big fan of parties, crowds, and basically people until Bash came into my life. He encouraged me to put myself out there and mingle with other humans, besides him, and showed me that if I just gave others a chance, they'd love me as much as he did. Of course, he meant platonically and it made my poor little preteen heart ache, but I had never seen any harm in trying. If Bash was there, I knew he'd never let anything happen to me.

There was one high school party he had coerced me into attending that was at some preppy rich kid's lake house about thirty minutes from where we lived. It wasn't exactly how I would have elected to spend my Friday night, but you try saying no to Bash's dreamy green eyes! It's basically impossible.Well…it is for me, so shut up.

Anyway, there was a dude on the baseball team who was a real twat-waffle to me most days because (you guessed it!)he took issue with my being gay. I guess I radiated gay energy or something that he took personal offense to because it wasn't like I had a boyfriend I was mauling in the halls or doing anything to tip people off I was riding the rainbow train. It was just common knowledge at that point. He would shove me around in the hallways or blow me kisses or mimic the sign for blowjob by sticking his tongue in his cheek repeatedly like a moron, but I was able to ignore it usually. He knew better than to do that shit while Bash was around. I never told Bash because I knew he would go after him and I couldn't risk my bestie getting in trouble.

The night of the lake house party, baseball dude cornered me whenI went to find the bathroom and shoved me into the wall. Apparently, that was his shtick. I don't know why he wasn't playing football instead with the way he tackled people like a fucking linebacker with alarming regularity. He got in my face and told me that no one wanted a “dirty homo” there and some of his friends thought I needed to learn that lesson a little more thoroughly.

When he grabbed my arm, attempting to drag me toward the back door, Bash materialized out of nowhere like my own gorgeous white knight (minus being on horseback, but beggars can't be choosers). The way his face darkened and waves of fury poured off him, I was even beginning to get a little nervous for Grabby McDouche for a second. Bash ripped me away from him, and threw one well-placed punch to his Neanderthal face.

It. Was. Glorious.

Bash leaned in close to him on the floor and told him in a menacing tone, “If you so much as touch one fucking hair on his head again, I will shove your balls so far up your ass, they'll come up your throat and be mistaken for a pair of tonsils.”Oh boy…Bash woke up and chose violence that morning! Damn, why was that hot?

It was a new experience to see Bash lose his temper and unleash on someone like that. He was always the picture of calm and never had cause to be anything but sweet to people. The fact that a little rough handling by some asshole was enough to push him over the edge formemade me fall for him all the more.

So yeah, parties put a bad taste in my mouth until I finally got to college and was exposed to a new, inclusive environment where people literally gave no shits if you were gay, bi, pan, demi, or any other skittle in the fabulous LGBTQ+ rainbow. After that, getting out around people wasn't so bad, and it was always made better if I had Bash right there next to me like my reliable, emotional support hottie.

However, thinking of the concert and being immersed in a crowd like that never failed to make me nervous, so Rhys and I had planned for all three of us to pre-game a little at our apartment so I wouldn't be one big ball of anxiety. Then, we would grab an Uber and head over to the club.

The whole way there though, Bash gave off some agitated vibes and his jaw was tight with tension. I grabbed his hand, drawing his attention to me as I gave him a puzzled, concerned look. He smiled at me and squeezed my hand, but his smile looked forced and I noticed his palm was a little sweaty.

Was he nervous about something? Was it the idea of being at a queer club even though he was straight? That seemed unlikely because,hello, his bestie was gayer than a Maypole, but I couldn't figure out any good reason. I chose to not worry about it. He'd chill out once we were there.

We pulled up to the club about forty-five minutes into the band's set, music thumping and pouring from the outdoor speakers. Cheer Up Charlies was this small, rectangular building in the middle of the city high-rises with a long wooden fence painted in blue waves off to the right, obscuring the outside stage from the street. Inside was awash in neon lighting and packed to the brim, so we pushed our way out to the patio where the band was performing. The club had a huge parachute hanging over the patio, and the stage was backdropped by a tall, limestone cliff that was pretty common for the Austin area. There were blue stage lights highlighting the band, and I quickly noticed that Rhys had not exaggerated about the lead singer one bit…that guy was dripping sex appeal.

Crimson Exodus looked like a cross between a 90s grunge band and an emo dream, most of the members dressed in varying combos of ripped jeans, tight leather pants, flannels with torn sleeves, black mesh tops, and studded jewelry. The drummer had short, spiked blue hair, the bassist had an ice blond crew cut, the second guitarist was rocking bright red curls, and the sexy singer/guitarist had straight, ebony locks that just swept his shoulders. They were weird as hell and I fucking loved it.

As we moved through the crowd to try to get closer to the stage, Bash's hand never wavered from my lower back. It was giving me flashbacks to the UNT party when Bash had led me out of my dorm, and I fought to keep my breathing even. I knew he'd think something was wrong if I asked him to remove it, but it was hard to keep my thoughts from straying back to that night when his palm was a firm, warm pressure on my back. It permeated my skin with an electricity that zapped and sparked within me. I was positive I imagined it, but I thought I heard him let off a low growl behind me.

Knocking myself out of it, I concentrated on the music and soon Rhys and I were dancing up a storm, rocking out to the raspy tones of the singer and the seductive melody of the guitar and drums. Bash was dancing just behind me, and when I turned to face him, our eyes locked and a frisson of heat ran through my body. It was mesmerizing, and I couldn't tear my gaze away from his, an electric current rippling between us in palpable waves. His stare was piercing and made my heart stumble and falter in my chest, and I saw the tiniest hitch in his breathing since he was so close.Is…he affected by this too? What does that even mean?

Almost as quickly as it had begun, Bash blinked hard a couple of times and looked around. “Hey, uh, I'm gonna hit the john and get some fresh air real fast. Be right back,” he said loudly to be heard over the music before he turned on his heel, hightailing it out of there. I tried to will it away, but rejection and disappointment washed over me, shocking me with its intensity seeing as how his reaction shouldn't have surprised me. Bash and I might have been abnormally close, but it didn't negate the fact that he was straight and had no inclination to see me as anything more than his bestie.

Why the fuck am I not able to get that through my stubborn ass head? Honestly, if I was reading the story of my life, I'd be disgusted with my patheticness and begging the author for a rewrite.

I blinked several times to clear away the tears that threatened to spring up, and realized that I needed to take advantage of where I was and take the first steps to moving on from this toxic, unrequited love I held for Bash. I was at a fucking queer club, for God's sake! Throw a stone and I would hit at least ten guys who would be interested in all this…I hoped.

I yelled to Rhys that I was going to get a drink, and he just nodded enthusiastically at me, a wide grin plastered on his adorable face while he got lost in the music. I made my way slowly, but surely to the indoor bar and waited for a bartender to notice me. As I stood there, I felt someone come up on my left, shoving in close since the bar was teeming with people.

“Damn, if you weren't claustrophobic before tonight, this place will sure as hell do the trick!” a deep, growly voice exclaimed next to me. I turned to look at the man on my left, andhot damn. He was beautiful.

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