Page 18 of Of Heartbreak and Harmony
She’s never going to love you the way you love her.
I don’t respond. I don’t want to fuck with any of it right now. I just need a break from all the bullshit.
Playing ArtFusion wasn’t even supposed to be on the schedule. We’re supposed to be enjoying some downtime between our North American and European tour legs. We’re supposed to beresting, but the label doesn’t care. They see dollar signs, so our downtime has been relegated to the fucking tour bus in middle-of-nowhere fucking Arizona.
We’re on top of each other with no privacy and no space. It’s uncomfortable. It’s irritating. We piss each other off at least once a day. Sav’s tried getting a second tour bus for her and Mabel to share, but so far, the label has turned her down. The rest of us haven’t even bothered broaching the topic. If the bastards won’t listen to Sav, they sure as shit don’t care what we think. We just keep holding out for another Grammy, and then maybe our demands will be taken seriously.
“You gonna venture out tonight?” Jonah coughs out the last word, and I don’t have to look at him to know it was accompanied by a cloud of smoke. I’m glad for the change of subject.
“Nah. You?”
I have no desire to go out there and push my way through crowds of people. Jo and Mabel fly under the radar better than Sav and I do, but I can still sneak by without causing too much of a fan frenzy. Sav, though? If she’s not sequestered in the bus surrounded by security, then she has to have a security guard up her ass. It takes the fun out of it.
“Maybe.” Jo kicks the couch again, so I roll my head toward him and crack open an eye. He gives me a rare, lopsided grin. “Might go score some molly from some Ivy League kids. They always have the best shit.”
I choke out a laugh. “You’re a literal rock star, fucker.”
Jonah shrugs. “There’s just something better about drugs bought on Mommy and Daddy’s dime. The rich kids can share.”
I raise an eyebrow, but he ignores me. Jonah doesn’t like to admit it, but if he weren’t lead guitarist in our band, he’d definitely be one of those Ivy League kids dropping trust fund money on drugs at a trendy music festival. He forgets that I know he dropped out of Yale. Asshole.
The door to the bus opens and Mabel appears, a frown marring the usually cheerful expression of our drummer. She sends a scowl my way, and I already know she’s going to bitch about Sav.
“Don’t look at me,” I say before she can hurl accusations. “She woke up raging and hating the world. I was just the first one to set her off.”
Like usual,Mabel implies with a quirk of her thin, dark brow, then she rolls her eyes and walks past me, disappearing into the back.
She’s not wrong. I’m usually the first one to set Sav off. Admittedly, I say things that I know will irritate her. I do it intentionally these days. Like tossing rocks at a land mine. If she’s feeling particularly vicious, I might as well trip the trigger early and get it over with. That way she can explode, we can move past it with an angry fuck, and then we can all go about the rest of our day.
When Mabel steps back in front of me a few minutes later with a duffle bag slung over her shoulder, I know the angry fuck is off the table.
“Savvy and I are going to a hotel in town. You are welcome to also come, but I think it’s best for all of us if you stay here. We’ll be back before the show.”
I stare blankly at her.
Mabel is always taking Sav’s side. They were a packaged deal when I met them, so it’s fine. I get it. But the divide has been growing lately, and these days it almost seems like Mabel’s defense of our frontwoman is done begrudgingly. Mabel definitely resents me for screwing up their friendship, but she resents Sav more, and she hates it. Jealousy is deteriorating Mabel’s loyalty, and Savvy is too steeped in her own disaster to even notice.
Inotice, though.
Finally, I concede with a nod. “I’ll stay here.”
Mabel turns on her heel and leaves without another word, and Jonah lets out a slow whistle. He’s getting more fucked up the longer we sit here. I wouldn’t be surprised if he passes out soon.
“Now you definitely can go out tonight.”
His words are slow, groggy, and his head is starting to lull to the side, resting on his shoulder in a way that makes my own neck ache.
I push up from the couch and look out the window just in time to catch sight of Sav. She’s standing with Mabel, surrounded by three security guards next to a black SUV. She’s wearing sunglasses, but when she tilts her head in my direction, I know her eyes are on me. I don’t duck away from her. I don’t hide. Instead, I look her over.
The outfit she threw on to storm out on me—cotton pajama shorts and my tank—is gone, and she’s wearing jeans and a plain black T-shirt. Her silver hair is still a mess, though. She probably hasn’t done anything with it since I had my hands in it early this morning. Before everything went to shit.
Fuck, she pisses me off.
My attachment to her is deep in my veins, thrumming in my neck like my heartbeat. I have to keep myself from going after her. From provoking her. I want to fight with her. I want to hear her scream at me, to feel her lash out, because even her vitriol is better than being alone with my thoughts.
I take another drag from my joint, but I don’t take my eyes off her.
It’s unhealthy. I can admit that. Our relationship is built of the most unstable things—a house of matches over a lake of gasoline. Lately, our spark has felt dangerous. Lethal.
