Page 42 of Ticket to the Stars: Part One

Priest was sprawled out on the couch, a pizza box to his left as he turned on Netflix. Deacon was the only one who ate near me at the island, though he didn’t say much, either.

I had to admit, I thought it would go differently. I mean, as their first time singing together, they’d been good. Better than good. Much better than I’d thought they’d be. Her voice was full and strong, but it paired well with Priest’s gravelly tone.

Hmm. Maybe things were weird because of how the day had started. First the whole thing with Deacon, and then holding hands with Priest while singing. Ramona had definitely noticed the tension, because after Angel left to use the restroom, the first thing Ramona had said when she returned was that there was to be no hand-holding. No touching. No moon eyes, whatever that was.

“I know we don’t have anything concrete yet, but I thought they sounded pretty good,” I said, glancing at Deacon. All he did was shrug, the very essence of noncommittal. “What did you think? Or did you not hear anything because you were busy listening to something else?”

He’d had his headphones on damn near the entire time, hardly saying a word. If I had to guess, I’d say he was in a pissy mood from this morning, too.

I didn’t know why. I mean, if I’d been in that position with Angel… let’s just say I wouldn’t have let anyone interrupt me. I definitely wouldn’t have acted like she disgusted me, like he’d done once he was caught. He’d probably insulted her.

And then what Priest had told me at the recording studio… like, these two needed to get their eyes and egos checked, because they were so full of themselves, they didn’t know what way was up and what was down.

Yeah, yeah. Angel was off-limits. But, like…come on.

“I heard some stuff,” Deacon muttered. “But I reserve judgment for the finished demos.” He got quiet after that, picking at the crust of the pizza slice in front of him as a look of pensiveness crossed his face. His eyebrows drew together, his mouth thinning. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“When Ramona was gone, what were you and Priest talking about in the studio?”

The question caught me off-guard, and I stared at him in curiosity. What a random thing to ask. When Ramona was gone, Deacon was also gone—he needed some midday nourishment, he’d said, so he went wandering to the lounge, where vending machines were, along with a few other food items, depending on the time of day.

I threw a quick glance toward Priest before saying, “I was just asking Priest what he was thinking holding Angel’s hand like that. It gave Ramona the wrong idea.”

Deacon frowned. “And what did Priest say?”

“You know, typical Priest stuff. He could have any girl he wants, why would he want her, she’s not his type—” Which, okay, now that I was thinking about it, was a lie, because every girl was his type. He was famous for having no standards. It hadn’t really occurred to me in the moment.

“Dude,” Deacon hissed out, “you two are fucking idiots.”

That took me back. I wasn’t expecting to hear him call Priest and me fucking idiots. “Why?”

He let out the world’s most explosive sigh before saying, “She heard you. When I came back, she was standing outside the door, listening. She heard everything you guys said about her.” He got quiet. “I don’t think she went outside because she got overheated in there. I think she went out to get away from you two. The look on her face when she hurried by… she looked like she was about to cry.”

My heart panged at hearing that. She’d heard everything we’d said? Then, not only did she hear Priest’s lies, but she’d also heard the jealousy in my tone. I mean, why would I give a shit if he’d held her hand while they sang? Because of Ramona? Pshh. That was just an excuse I used to bring it up to Priest.

“If you two dicks want this to work, you probably have to tell her you’re sorry.” Deacon said nothing else after that, getting up and abandoning his pizza. He disappeared down the hall.

I sat there, running over the memory of everything Priest and I’d said. Even though Priest had been the one to lie and say he didn’t want her, even though he was the reason she hadn’t come back in, I still felt responsible. If I wouldn’t have pushed Priest, he never would’ve said any of those things.

It was my fault. I was just as much to blame for Angel’s hurt feelings as Priest.

I lost whatever was left of my appetite, so I got up and wandered over to Priest. I kicked his foot off the coffee table, alerting him to my presence. “Hey, man,” Priest huffed. “What’d you do that for?”

“You need to go apologize to Angel,” I told him as I folded my arms over my chest. “She heard everything you said at the studio.”

Priest’s mouth fell open, and he leaned forward on the couch. “She what? How could she—”

“I don’t know. Maybe the door wasn’t closed all the way. It doesn’t really matter. Deacon said he saw her standing outside the door for a while, listening, and then when she hurried past him, she looked like she was about to cry.” As if to further hit the nail on the head, I added, “And nothing I said would make her cry. That’s all on you.”

The thought of Angel being hurt by what was said… it hurt me, in a way. I didn’t want to see her upset or hurt—maybe that’s why I’d dug into Priest so much at the studio. Ignoring the pangs of jealousy that had risen up inside while watching them hold hands and sing together, I knew if she fell for him, she’d only get hurt. Priest was a ladies’ man. That would never change, even if he had to be on good behavior for a while thanks to Pope.

He ran his hands over his face, muttering, “Fuck.”

Yeah, fuck indeed.

Priest was slow in standing. “So I should just go in there and apologize? Would that even make it any better? Maybe we should just move on and pretend it never happened. Maybe apologizing would only make her feel worse—”

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