Page 32 of Hope & Harmony

“No.” His hands lifted to sign like it was the most natural thing to do now, but he stopped himself. “The songs were hits before. I had nothing to do with it. Maybe you should acknowledge the one who actually wrote the songs, not me.” He nodded toward me, his bobbing leg nudging into mine.

“Oh.” The reporter turned to me, a blush on her cheeks, looking like Drix had just called out her integrity. “You wrote them?” If she had done any research, she would have knownthat. “Really? You can hear the music and the ballads when you are writing?”

A growl shuddered from Drix as the translator finished the reporter’s ignorant assumption tied up in an “innocent” question.

` “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Drix’s timbre was low, dragging across my skin, his hands once again signing his thoughts. He did it so naturally, I don’t think he even knew he was doing it.

“I mean, since she’s…” The woman’s cheeks pinked even more, afraid to say the word deaf, as if some politically correct police would jump out the moment she suggested it.

She wasn’t the first reporter today to hint at this, and she wouldn’t be the last. Usually, the male reporters came with the misogyny of me being a woman drummer as well. I was used to it by now.

“You mean because she’s deaf?” Drix sat up, leaning into her with a challenge. “Music isn’t just about your ears. There are different ways tohearmusic. It’s a feeling. An emotion, a depth you can’t reach with your normal senses. You can’t literally taste, touch, or see music either, which doesn’t take away from the experience. Music is in here.” He tapped at his head. “And here.” He knocked a fist into his chest, his combative energy filling the room. It was the most passion I had seen from him off stage. “Her talent speaks for itself, but I promise you, Echo experiences music far more than the rest of us do.”

Seeing the pure horror and embarrassment on the reporter’s face, my hand pressed down on his thigh, trying to calm him down.

His head jerked at my touch, his gaze catching mine. Without even having to do anything more, his eyes read mine, his shoulders lowering, slumping back in the chair. He looked awayfrom me as if he needed to regain himself, but his hand slid over mine, curling around it like it was his only anchor.

The reporter’s attention went to our hands, tracking how we touched, how he held my hand against his inner thigh. Intimacy only a couple would have.

Suddenly, I became very aware of my hand, his warm palm cupping around my fingers, holding on like we did this all the time. Oddly, it felt natural. But I mean, we were bandmates. We knew each other better than anyone.

Would you do this to Ames or Tobias? Geo?

No. I would’ve elbowed or hit them with my knee, the same as if they were my brothers.

A shot of fear flooded my veins, and I tried to tug my hand away, scared of how comfortable it was to touch him. To have such a deep familiarity with him that I didn’t even have with my other bandmates.

His hand clamped down tighter, not letting me pull away.

The journalist’s gaze brightened, anah-haglint caught in her eyes. Taking in this evidence, the way he stood up for me and held my hand in such an intimate position against his thigh. I could see the puzzle she was putting together in her head, coming to an incorrect conclusion.

She sat up, her chagrin replaced by the scandalous story she thought she was getting an insight into.

Drix caught the shift, his eyes going down to where he held my hand, and quickly pulled his hand away.

But it was too late.

“The rumors before, from sources, said you twohatedeach other prior to Drix joining the band…” She led us, hoping one of us would jump in and pick up. We both stared, cross-armed and defensive. “Is there any truth to that?”

“No,” Drix lied. There wasa lotof truth to us hating each other. At one time, I laid on his bed, my pants on the floor, hisfingers exploring my body, before fate stepped in and thankfully deterred the biggest mistake I could’ve made.

“So…is there something going on between you two?”

“No.” My fingers responded harshly.

“Because fans are convinced there is. There are already hashtags and websites dedicated to you two, dissecting every look and touch. There is no denying there is intense chemistry between you guys. On stage, you are so in tune with each other, the connection so combustive you pull all the attention. It is the only thing anyone can talk about.” Ames’s ego would love to hear that.

“We have to be in sync.” Drix was short and curt. “She relies on me for cues and changes.”

“Not the same as way she did with Ziggy. What you two have is explosive.”

When I saw her lips utter his name, my spine went rigid, fury blooming in my chest.

“Don’t you dare compare Ziggy with anyone.” My fingers hissed, fury fueling me. “Don’teverlessen what Ziggy was to me and this band in a need to concoct some juicy made-up story to get views. There is nothing going on between us.” I stood up, ripping off the mic the sound people hooked onto my top. “This interview is over!” I didn’t care how angry Emmit would be for walking out on an interview. I was done with the dumb, insensitive questions about being deaf or, even worse, a girl. The salacious inquiries about Drix and me, and the outright insulting comments about him being behind all this fame we had.

Did his arrival come at a time when we happened to be on tour? Yes, but we had talent and fans before him. He just added an extra layer.

And did fans want a budding love affair between us so bad they saw things? Fuck, yes, they did. I got a dozen tags a minutewith our names linked. #EchoDrixLove and #DrixEchoship. But it was all in their heads.

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