Page 100 of Before Now

What fountain?

If only I couldwhateverything as easily.

But duty calls. As much as we’d like to avoid Remi and Wannabe, we agreed to the group interview after the concert. Christian sent the location to our group chat.

I write for a bit before I scroll up through the vulgar combinations of emojis, seeing it’s on the limited access floor with the gym, pool, and whatever else the chick at the desk said.

Playing rebel, I head down without bothering Colt to explore. It’s the best I’ll get for a while. I step off the elevator and into an open space with couches and lounge chairs, sitting areas scattered. Doorways surrounding the common area lead to the different amenities, and glass separates the gym. Off to one side, the documentary crew has left their equipment to set up in preparation for tonight.

I might have dodged solo interviews, but we’ve filmed two group ones. Remi always has instruments in the background, today no exception. I catch the neck of the acoustic and use the hotel’s piano in the corner to tune it before dropping onto an oversized couch.

My eyes are closed while I play, just following the notes. I haven’t been at it long when I hear a, “Uh, Adams.”

I internally sigh and then look at Remi. She’s near the set where her other two crew, Glory and Nate, are starting to assemble lights.

“I just wanted you to know we’re here,” she says.

Despite the audience, I stay. Her gaze flits to me more than once, and I feel the craving building inside her. The next time she looks, I’m waiting. I hook my head, and she doesn’t hesitate to grab her camera. She settles on the side of the L-shaped couch.

I continue wandering through whatever feels right while she films without audio. It slowly starts to morph until it sounds familiar. I’m unsure what it even is at first, but then I shift down on the fretboard. As soon as I change keys, muscle memory kicks in.

Remi moves off to the side, and when I glance over, she’s lowered her camera.

Sad eyes stay on me while I play an unfinished song. A song I’ve played for her before. I squeak the strings at the end and set the guitar on a cushion between us.

“You get what you want?” I ask.

She nods. “It was perfect.”

I nod back, standing, walking away before I say what I’m thinking—she was.

* * *

Over the next three days,Felix, Dev, and I spend more time in the common area than on our own floor. The place has been a ghost town. Perfect for us to slap on our metaphorical scuba tanks and dive down into the creative depths.

“Colt Breaks” included. He checks, so we comply.

We will leave on Friday for San Diego, benefit on Saturday, and by the time we finish packing up Thursday, I truly believe we can pull off an album by tour’s end. I’ll work on an idea swimming in my head while Dev’s in Arizona. I won’t be surprised if he has something of his own when he gets back. The guy’s best ideas have come from him raw-dogging a flight. Just him and his thoughts.

And it might shock people to their cores, but the piano in the corner will call to Felix. He’s classically trained. If we write lyrics first, he can rework a melody a dozen different ways until they sync. So long as no one watches. He’s a bashful little thing.

While they go to dinner with Christian, all of them needing a few hours out of the hotel, Colton and I go to the gym. He hooks up his phone to the speakers and blares what I’ve dubbed his high-schooler weightlifting playlist.

My lips twitch as he turns around, and he flips me off. We go hard on the weights for about half an hour before he shoves me toward the treadmills. He hops on the one to my right and immediately sets it higher than mine. So, I kick it up because it’s what we do.

We’d end up at a dead sprint if the door didn’t open. The mirror in front of us shows Remi walking in behind us. She and I haven’t spoken directly since I played for her before our last show. It seems we’ve fallen into a wordless truce around one another. Not that I’ve seen much of anyone outside the main dickheads, but when she has popped up, she films me, and I let her.

Like now. Our eyes meet in the reflection, and spotting the camera in her hand, I nod. Her mouth perks up instantly. “I only need a few minutes.”

Colton and I settle on a sustainable speed until she finishes. My eyes flick to her in the mirror within seconds, but then everyone’s attention shifts to the door. I scoff as Wannabe waltzes in, dressed for a workout. He flashes a surprised grin—the surprise part utter bullshit—toward Remi.

“I was curious where you’d wandered off to,” he says.

She forces a small smile. “I wanted to take advantage before everyone leaves tomorrow.”

With the short notice, we’re not bringing the crew. I prefer it. For obvious reasons.

Xander lowers the volume on our music, and Colton serves me side-eye for it.

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