Letting out the breath I’d been holding, I smile. “Sweet, give me your phone and I’ll plug it in.”
After returning his phone to him, I pull my own out and call an Uber. Something vaguely similar to hope blooms in my chest. It’s probably stupid and futile, the chances of him actually reaching out to me slim to none, but at least when it’s all said and done, I can say I tried.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
Caspian
The sound of knuckles rapping on the door to my hotel room has me rolling out of bed much earlier than I would have liked. After the killer show we put on last night, I could probably sleep for a week and still feel exhausted. This always happens the first few shows of a tour. I don’t think being away at Black Diamond helped me any, though. I didn’t have my drums and wasn’t able to practice every day like I would have had I been home.
It takesa lotof upper body strength to put on a show—way more than I think most people realize. But fuck, if it isn’t exhilarating as hell being up on that stage, a stadium full of people chanting our names, the bright lights beating down on us, sweat pouring, heart racing, the adrenaline that only comes from a performance like that. There ain’t nothing like it. I’m fucking thankful I was able to come on this tour. After Sebastian decided to quit being such a bitch about the whole situation.
He and I have barely spoken since he let the band know his final decision about the tour, and I prefer to keep it that way. He does nothing but get under my skin, and not in the good way.
Dragging a hand through my sleep-tousled hair, I pull the heavy door open, coming face to face with Atticus.
“Why the fuck are you up so early?” I grumble, turning and walking farther into the room, leaving him to follow me. Switching on the coffeemaker, I put in a K-cup before heading back to the room to put a shirt on. This room is fucking chilly.
Atticus doesn’t bother following me. Instead, having a seat on the white leather sofa in the living room area. “Why didn’t you come out with us last night?” he asks once I’m out of the room and dressed.
Here we go.
“Just didn’t feel like it, man. It’s not a big deal.”
Oh, but itisa big deal. To the whole damn band. It doesn’t make any fucking sense. First, before I was forced onto rehab island, I partied too much. I was too wild. Out of control. Then, I come home, have no interest in going out and living like I used to and, suddenly, it’s a fucking concern?
Make it make sense.
“It was fun,” he murmurs as he rolls a joint for us over the coffee table. “You missed out.”
“I’m sure I didn’t,” I drawl.
Pulling out his lighter and sparking up the bud, he takes a couple of puffs, glancing at me with a glint in his eyes. There’s something he wants to say, I can fucking feel it.
“Just fucking say it, Atticus.” I roll my eyes as he passes me the joint. Placing it between my lips, the sweet, earthy smoke fills my mouth, then my lungs. It relaxes me.
He shrugs innocently, a devilish grin taking over his features. “You were missed last night, that’s all.”
“Well, I’m here now. No need to miss me.” He’s being fucking weird. Even for him.
Atticus chuckles, the sound deep and raspy. He’s got a real smoky type of voice that the fans go feral for. He isn’t even a vocalist but, man, they fawn over him when he speaks.
“Not me, you dipshit.” He takes another hit before passing over the weed. Raising from the couch, he strolls over to the mini fridge, grabbing out a water bottle like he owns the fucking place. Bringing the plastic bottle up to his mouth, he pauses before taking a swig to say vaguely, “Somebody was asking about you.”
I sit back, my legs kicked wide, arm across the back of the couch. “Okay… who? Why are you being so fucking weird?”
Atticus waves me off, taking a seat beside me on the couch. “Met this cute guy last night.”Apparently, we’re moving on from whoever asked about me.
“Good for you?”
“Seems to be a fan,” he goes on like he’s talking to no one in particular. “He’s got a fucking perfect set of DSLs. Bet he’d look real nice with a cock shoved between them.” Why the hell do I need to know this?
“Okay… so did you fuck him?”
It wouldn’t beunheardof for Atticus to fuck a fan; he’s done it before. He’s usually one of the more tame ones in the band, though. Unlike Harlan, who seems to find a new piece of ass in every city we wind up in. That boy well and truly takes full advantage of his rock star status.
“Nah,” Atticus responds, pulling me back to the conversation. “I tried, but he was looking for you.”
“Aww, Atti, you don’t gotta be jealous that they want me instead.” Reaching over, I squeeze his cheeks between my fingers, making his lips pucker. Laughter bubbles out of him as he rolls his eyes.
