Page 10 of Bassist With Benefits
Jeremy offered his arm and the best puppy-dog eyes he could muster, which didn’t do shit for Alan’s standoffish attitude. If anything, it made him tenser. Alan stepped closer to Jeremy and allowed an arm across his shoulder, but didn’t return the embrace. Instead, his arm hung limp at his side, as motionless as a tree trunk.
The hard deltoid under Jeremy’s hand was heaven. He wanted to caress it, to curl his fingers into the round muscle, but he knew that would send Alan bolting in the opposite direction. As the photographer snapped photo after photo, Jeremy’s arm tightened around Alan. It was automatic, and mostly just to show the brotherly bond that the band was known for, but it made Alan stiffen and pull away slightly.
This was fucking bullshit. Jeremy tugged Alan closer so the four of them were huddled together the way bandmates should be. He turned his head toward Alan to tell him to lighten up, but the moment they made eye contact, he stilled. Alan wore a gaping, wide-eyed stare at the close proximity of their faces, and then ran for the door.
“Where are you going? Alan, I don’t think we’re done yet,” Felix called after the rebellious drummer.
Fuck. Jeremy didn’t mean to make Alan more uncomfortable, and he ran after his friend. “Alan! Wait!” But Alan never turned around or slowed his pace on the way back to their suite.
Jeremy sprinted down the hall in order to catch up to Alan and received a slammed door in his face. “C’mon, man. This is my room, too.” He didn’t wait for an invitation and barged into the suite.
Alan was losing his shit. He was tugging on his short hair, which caused it to stick straight out in awkward angles. It looked comical, and Jeremy fought the urge to laugh.
“This isn’t a fucking joke!” Alan stopped pacing and faced Jeremy. The whites of his eyes were vast, and his dilated pupils turned his silver eyes dark.
Jeremy knew the seriousness of the situation. He was at risk of losing his best friend, and he didn’t have any recourse. “I know it’s not a fucking joke, Alan. But there’s no reason to go apeshit just because I got my arm around you in a group photo. What’s done is done. We screwed around. No big deal.”
“No big deal? Oh my God!” Alan’s jaw hung open, and he threw his arms out to the side. “I can’t even sit next to you anymore! You saw what happened during the interview! I can’t concentrate when you’re next to me! Fuck! How am I going to look at you on stage?”
Jeremy listened to Alan’s melodramatic rant. He knew that anything he said would just make it worse. It was like putting out fire with gasoline. So he let Alan have his meltdown. It was actually kinda hot. Alan was waving his arms around, which caused his biceps to tighten – and the guy had incredible biceps. The more Alan freaked out, the more Jeremy’s cock hardened. He stopped paying attention to what Alan was saying and remained focused on those cherry red lips, until they stopped moving.
“Are you even listening to me?” Alan snapped his fingers in front of Jeremy’s face.
Grow a pair of balls, Kagan!Jeremy told himself.Take a fucking stand. All or nothing. For once in your life, put your heart on the line.
“I’m talking to you.” Alan leaned closer and jutted his chin toward Jeremy, his tight-set jaw enhancing the sexiness of his intense stare.
It was all the provocation that Jeremy needed. He decided, right then and there, that he was going to take a chance. He took hold of Alan’s face between his palms and kissed him. Even though Alan struggled to free himself, Jeremy refused to let go. He pressed his lips as hard as he could against his friend’s mouth, hoping Alan would relax enough to realize that he wanted the kiss as much as Jeremy did. And, God, how Jeremy wanted this kiss. The contact of their lips made his world spin. A rush of endorphins flooded his bloodstream and made him feel like he would explode from excitement, until a fist hit him in the cheek and sent him stumbling. His hand went to his jaw as the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Alan yelled. He advanced toward Jeremy, obviously pushed too far by the unplanned kiss, while his chest expanded and deflated from heated breaths. “Why do you gotta be a dick when I’m being serious?”
Jeremy stared at his friend, worried he crossed a line that he couldn’t back-peddle over. Everything was at jeopardy if they couldn’t get past this – their friendship, the band, everything they had worked for since they were teenagers. “I’m sorry.” Jeremy placed his hands on Alan’s shoulders to stop the guy from advancing toward him, but Alan shoved him in the chest. Jeremy stood his ground, though, and gave Alan a shake. “Calm fucking down! Let’s talk about this!”
“Fuck you!” Alan knocked Jeremy’s hands off his shoulders and shoved him again.
This time, Jeremy shoved Alan back. “Stop fucking pushing me!”
Alan tackled Jeremy like a fucking linebacker, and they both wrestled on the floor. Years of hitting the drums had thickened Alan’s arms. They were like a vice, imprisoning Jeremy in solid tentacles of flesh, squeezing the life out of him. He couldn’t break free. All he could do was thrash around trying to inhale a gust of breath. “I… can’t… breathe,” he managed to squawk.
Alan loosened his grip, and they stopped struggling. He stared down at Jeremy pinned against the floor, fear now replacing the anger that previously glowed in his eyes.
Panting to allow the air to return to his lungs, Jeremy just lay there gasping for air.
“You’re an asshole.” The brief moment of panic displayed across Alan’s face was gone as quickly as it had appeared.
“Well, it takes one to know one.” Childish, but it was the only retort Jeremy had. “Now get the fuck off me.”
Alan got to his feet and paced in front of the fireplace. His eyes weren’t as wide, but they were bouncing around in their sockets as if they were trying to keep up with the barrage of thoughts running through his head.
Jeremy fixed his T-shirt, which ended up scrunched up into his armpit on one side because of their tussle on the floor, and rubbed at the friction burn on his elbow. He took a step toward his friend and then abruptly stopped. “Alan, I don’t know what the fuck to say.”
“Don’t say anything. Don’t touch me and don’t say anything. Just stay the fuck away from me.”
It was as if someone had severed Jeremy’s right arm. Alan was his cohort, his partner in crime. They had been best friends since they were adolescents, and now Alan wanted nothing to do with him.
Alan stomped across the room and swung open the door to escape the suite, but came face to face with Felix, Derek, Brandon, and Cam. He tried to push past them, but Felix caught his arm. “Back inside,” Felix demanded, looking from Alan to Jeremy and back again.
Alan’s daggered gaze bore into Felix, but he knew better than to argue with the band’s manager. Felix took no shit when it came to Bulletproof’s P.R., and he demanded respect at all times. Alan marched back into the suite, gritting his teeth. He glanced at Jeremy for a hot second before dropping his eyes.
