Page 25 of Wild Obsession

Jacob never raises his voice, but when he makes a decision for the band, that’s usually the end of the conversation. I stomp away, throwing myself on my bunk and shutting the privacy curtain to keep from exploding in front of the others. Even alone in the dark, however, I’m seething.

The Ten Hours didn’t even ask us. They didn’t call. They didn’t talk to any of us. They handed down this decision like royalty making decrees from the throne. We’re the little guys, the upstarts, the small-time band playingcrappy bars in Seattle. We don’t get a say in our own destiny.

Even as my rage boils over, I know the thoughts rising alongside it are unfair, but I indulge them anyway. We’ve got a tour stop in Atlanta tonight, and I am going to do everything in my power to show that crowd we’re the better band. We should be the headliners. We should be the ones handing down royal decrees to whatever lesser band has to open for us.

Tonight, I’m going to drum like my entire musical career depends on it.

Tim better get ready because there’s no way anyone is leaving that venue believing he’s the better drummer.

I SCOWL THROUGH hair and makeup and all the other pre-show shit that’s become my routine during this tour. Tim is doing his puppy dog thing, trying to catch my eye, but I glare back so fiercely that he turns away. How long ago did him and his stupid band decide our fate for us? Before or after that shower?

It makes no difference. I’m taking him down tonight, and his entire band with him.

By the time I stalk onto the stage, my hands itch for my drumsticks. The crowd might be screaming. I can’t tell. The only sound echoing in my ears is Jacob’s voice when he told us about that phone call.

When the set begins, I do my very best to drum so loud, so hard, that I can’t hear anything at all.

Sweat flies off my forehead as I slam my way through the music. We’ve always courted a hard, edgy, aggressive sound, but tonight I’m personally dialing that up to eleven. The venue booms every time I hit my drums, like I’m Zeus commanding thunder to roar through the room. My bandmates respond, however calm and reasonable they seemed on the bus. Shawn shreds through solos on his guitar. Levi’s bass throbs alongside my beats. Even Dan, usually in the background of our band, steps up a few times to show off. And Jacob — Jacob howls into the mic, his voice ranging from angelic high notes to grating shrieks to seductive harmonies. He’s magnetic tonight. At times, it feels like every stage light shines only on him, our charming pretty boy frontman who’s going to make the whole damn world fall in love with him — and us.

When the set ends, it’s like waking from a trance. As the lights go down, cloaking us so we can shuffle off the stage and make way for the crew, I find my bandmates blinking and taking the same shuddery breath I do.

When I climb off my seat, I glance into the dark beyond the stage and find Tim there, as breathless as my band as he gapes at me. I swallow down the swirl of hot anger and warmer desire that clogs my throat. I want to hate him for this latest twist, but the adoration in his eyes makes me want other things even more.

I bump my shoulder against his as I leave the stage, meaning to throw him off-balance. I’m buzzing too hard to go sit in a greenroom, so I linger, watching The Ten Hours get ready and wondering if I can curse them to fail using just my thoughts. When they finally stumble, Baptism Emperor will be here to snatch the crown off their pretty heads.

But they don’t stumble.

As though we left some feral magic out there on the stage, The Ten Hours play louder and harder and better than I’ve heard them all tour. Tim closes his eyes and drums like he’s in a dream, hair flying around his head. Erin’s voice is massive. She doesn’t sing to the crowd; shedemandstheir attention as she howls into the mic.

The musician in me can’t help but stand in awe, but the jaded asshole in me sneers. Because yeah, why shouldn’t these guys derail our career before we’ve even gotten a chance, then strut on stage and steal our thunder from us? Why shouldn’t they cut the tour short when this could be our big break? They already have everything.

It’s like when Tim disappeared, I realize. He was the good boy with the good family and the good grades and the good life. So when being gay became a little uncomfortable, he simply packed up and left. He was already winning. He didn’t need to make his life harder for the likes of me.

I guess some stuff never changes.

The Ten Hours already have everything. They’re not going to interrupt their comfortable rise to stardom for thelikes of us.

I march away from the stage sneering. A plan takes shape even as The Ten Hours go on playing. It might not be an entirely ethical thing to do, but it will make me feel better, it’ll soothe the bitterness burning a hole through my chest.

Besides, I know Tim wants it.

He’s been staring at me for weeks. Why not give the straight boy another little taste of what he thinks he desires?

I start texting before the music ends.

Chapter Thirteen

Tim

I PULL MY HOODIE tighter around me as I scan the gloomy parking lot. It’s not cold, even this late at night, but the lights pockmarking the hotel behind me feel like glowing eyes watching me flounder through the dark.

I have no idea what the hell I’m doing out here.

By the time I returned to the greenroom after the show, flushed and buzzing from the performance, I had a message on my phone from Keannen. My heart started racing the second I read his command, and I rushed back to my room to shower and slink back out before Cameron could ask any questions. Now the dark and quiet of the parking lot where he told me to meet him are reminding me exactly how insane it is to heed a vague text message from a bitter ex-boyfriend telling me to sneak out into an empty parking lotlate at night.

Well, not entirely empty. The tour buses are back here, and I head for Baptism Emperor’s, just as Keannen instructed. He hasn’t talked to me since Austin. I didn’t even know he had my number. Yet his message hit almost as hard as the high of the performance. I know we were good tonight. We were damn good tonight. Maybe that’s what finally broke through to Keannen. Maybe—

I squeak in surprise as a hand grabs my shoulder. Before I can react, someone spins me around and slams my back against the side of the bus. Keannen looms over me, one hand seizing me by the jaw so he can crash his lips against mine.

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