“I’d like to think if they have heard it, he’d know it was about him.” The label dropped this song on Monday. It’s now Saturday. And I’ve spent basically the entire time avoiding Josiah and his messages. So, I honestly have no idea if he’s heard it yet. Although, if he has, there’s absolutely no way he wouldn’t know it was about him.
Her brows lift. “Him?” she asks curiously.
“Pardon?”
“You said, and I quote, ‘he’d know it was about him.’”
Shit.My eyes lift, meeting Wade’s in the dining room. His brow is arched, and his lip is twitching like he’s trying not to laugh at my royal fuckup.
I’m not necessarily “in the closet” or anything, and there have definitely been speculations about whether or not I was queer since I’ve never, even once, been photographed with a romantic partner. But that’s simply because there hasn’t everbeena romantic partner to photograph. Fitz is going to fucking murder me when he catches wind of this. The label doesn’t give a shit about my sexuality, but I know he’s going to say he wished I had given them a heads up.
Not that I meant to let that slip, but fuck if I’m going to cower out now.
Clearing my throat, I drag my gaze back to Sophie, letting out a chuckle that sounds forced even to my ears. “Yes, him.”
Her whole face lights up with that admission.Fucking hell, I can just see the uproar this is going to cause now.
Thankfully, Sophie is respectful and doesn’t ask anything else too intrusive. She keeps the interview professional, asking several more questions about what’s to come before wrapping it up. She shakes my hand once we’re done, the glint still in her eye, knowing this interview is probably going to make her whole career, all the while I’m panicking about what the label is going to say.
I walk her out, and by the time I come back inside, Wade has an ice-cold beer that he’s shoving into my hand.
“Here. You need this more than me, man.” He chuckles before grabbing himself one. “What the hell was that?”
“A fucking accident,” I choke out before downing half the bottle in one go. “I did not mean to say that. Think Fitz is going to be pissed?”
Wade lazily shrugs. “Probably, but fuck him if he is.”
I can’t help but laugh. Out of all of us, Wade is the mostgive no fucks, especially when it comes to the labels and the shit they expect from us.
My phone vibrates on the counter where it’s sitting, and I know without even looking that it’s Josiah. I don’t know why I’m avoiding him, but I am. Him flying back to Nevada to deal with the bullshit at his shop trudged up a lot of old memories and feelings I don’t want to be having. Which makes no fucking sense. It’s not like he’s moving back there.
But a trauma-ridden brain doesn’t give a fuck about logical thinking, apparently. It’s like he left without a care about my feelings all over again, and instead of taking it out on him—which I know isn’t fair, given everything else he’s dealing with—I’ve subconsciously made the decision to just avoid him instead.
Which probably isn’t any better.
Wade eyes the lit-up screen, dragging his gaze up to me, a smirk playing on his lips. “Your sexy mechanic slash biker is hitting you up.”
I roll my eyes, already knowing where this is going. “I’m aware.”
“Still ignoring him, huh?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, jackass, but I talked to him this morning.”
“Oh, yeah?” He cocks his head. “A real conversation, or a pathetic “good morning” text?”
“Fuck off,” I grumble. “I don’t remember asking for your input on this situation.”
“Yeah, well, too bad. What are friends for?”
“Okay, so tell me this… what’s going on with you and Ash?”
If I wasn’t so annoyed about the entire situation, I’d laugh my ass off at the face he makes.
“Fuck off,” he mirrors my words back at me.
“Exactly. You don’t want to share your shit, and I don’t want to share mine. So, let’s just fucking drop it, okay?”
Wade grabs us each another beer from the fridge. When he hands it to me, he mutters, “Fine, but before we drop it, I just want to say one thing.”
