Page 3 of Hard Rock Temptation
But it was exactly that kind of effortless friendship, the best kind, built brick-by-brick over years and nurtured over shared hardships and triumphs, that kind of close friendship was one I also desperately wanted to ruin.
Ruin in all the best ways possible.
Except it seemed like Micah was trying to ruin everything before I could, in the worst way possible.
That was why I’d wanted to run into him. I had some theories to test.
“Where are the others?” Micah asked, looking around.
“They’re here somewhere,” I said. “It’s just you and me right now, though.”
“Oh.” Was that a flicker of panic I’d caught in his eyes? “We should go find them.”
“Actually, I’m glad I ran into you before we go on stage,” I said cheerily, not wanting to show my hand.
“About what?” He tensed, then seemed to force himself to relax, shoulders easing down from where they’d tried to hunch up to his ears. “The show? I thought we already went over the set list. Did one of the others change their mind at the last minute? Finn’s always doing that. I’ll have to go talk to him.”
Micah took a step to the side, eager to make an escape after his uncharacteristic rambling.
“It’s not the set list.” I stepped in front of him to halt him in his tracks. “I just wanted to see the next time you want to hang out. I’ve got a lot of songs I’m itching to work on. It’s beensolong since we’ve written anything together,” I added playfully.
He almost cringed back, eyes widened slightly.
“Right, sorry, I’ve been busy,” he said. “All that production work. You know how it is.”
“Let’s do it this weekend.” I made sure to phrase it as a direct request. “Come over and we can jam or whatever.”
“I don’t—I don’t think I’ll have the time to make it over,” he stammered.
Theory number one, proven correct. Time to test theory number two.
“Then why don’t I go to your place?” I asked. “Save you the trouble of driving over.”
Now his eyes did go wide, that panicked look in full force now.
“No, no, that’s all right, you don’t need to come over,” he hurried to say.
That was theory number two, proven correct.
“Do you know,” I started casually, “I’ve never even seen your new place? Funny, huh?”
He shifted his gaze to the side, avoiding mine. “Guess we’ve all been pretty busy.”
Not that busy.
“Is there some reason you don’t want me over?” I asked, getting right to the heart of the matter.
“What? No. It’s just, you know.” He waved his hand in the air dismissively, obviously looking to evade the topic. “The place is messy, I haven’t had time to clean it.”
“Micah,” I stated, turning serious. “We lived together for years. I’ve seen you at your absolute worst. Dirty socks and empty takeout containers are not going to faze me.”
“It’s not that.” His eyes darted back and forth, looking desperately for an out, to leave the conversation.
My heart clenched painfully inside my chest.
When all this first started, I’d thought nothing of it. An excuse here, a scheduling conflict there. But soon I had noticed a pattern to it. I started keeping count of every instance in the last six months that Micah had brushed me off, turned me down or outright ignored me.
Sorry, Kay, can’t today.
