Page 101 of Reverse

EC: You don’t have to. I’ve got it handled. Trust me and get down here.

So demanding.

The bubbles start and stop before a text comes through.

EC: I miss you. That’s what I called to say the first time.

Heart pounding erratically, I manage to type a reply.

And the second time?

EC: Maybe I’ll tell you when you get to the table.

THIRTY

“Through the Glass”

Stone Sour

Easton

Spotting Natalie at the entrance of the hotel bar, I lift my chin as she searches and finds me, Tack continuing to prattle on beside me. He’s still playing off the remaining energy from the stage, as am I. The high of playing is better than I could have ever anticipated. The woman standing side stage sweetened the feel of it exponentially tonight. Her reaction was everything I hoped for, as was she. She’s everything I remembered but somehow even more beautiful, more alluring. Simply put, she’s just fucking more.

So much more. I’m sure she’s intent on ruining me dressed in tight jeans that hug her long, muscular legs, a plain white T-shirt, and a thin as fuck bra. Tack and I stand as she nears the table. It’s when I’m able to read her expression and sense the hesitation in her posture that all of my hopes for the rest of the night slip into murky territory.

Somewhere between the kiss we shared backstage—that left me hard and uncomfortable as we packed up—to now, something has shifted, and she’s back in the no-fly headspace she’s been forcing herself into since I picked her up in Austin. Knowing I’m up against reinforced mental barriers, I allow her to choose her seat just as Tack pulls the chair next to me back in offering.

I dip my chin at him in silent thanks. Tack and I have managed an easy friendship since we started touring, and it’s got a lot to do with the fact that he’s basically a better person than most of the musicians I’ve met. He’s got no bitter chip on his shoulder thanks to years of falling short of his dreams with his other bands. Like me, he plays purely for his love of music, and that fact alone earns him a lot of my respect.

Natalie takes a seat, freshly showered, her face only slightly made up, her curls still drying as a whiff of her clean, floral scent hits me. A scent she drenched me in and left me pining for after she opened herself to me. She gives me the opposite now, posture closed, avoiding eye contact before relinquishing a soft “Hi.”

“Hey,” I answer back, draping my arm along the back of her chair.

“My room is nice, comfortable, thank you,” she says, glancing around the restaurant. “Where are LL and Syd?”

“Preoccupied,” Tack offers up easily.

Hating the fact that she’s deducing exactly what my bandmates are up to, she glances over at me, and I feel her unease before she addresses Tack.

“And you didn’t want to be preoccupied?”

“I’m good here,” he says. “I need a breather, and we have that thing tomorrow night.”

She looks to me. “What thing?”

“An after-party in Dallas,” Tack speaks up.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, we probably won’t be going,” I inform her.

“The fuck?” Tack asks as I stare back at him in warning.

“What am I missing now?” Natalie asks me directly, and I don’t reply because the answer is different for each question, and I don’t want to go there tonight since she seems to be on edge.

“Nothing. What are you hungry for?” I lean in, brushing her arm with mine, doing my best to put her at ease. “I don’t think they serve crab legs here.”

Her lips gradually start to lift as the waitress arrives, dropping us dark beers and water. “I’ll give you guys a minute.”

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