said no more, so I scrambled to my feet and slid on the cleanest things I had left—some jeans and a plain black t-shirt.
Tying my hair back in a tail, I let my neck breathe. I was sweltering from our private jam session, and not because of the effort. When he sings, I feel like he's sliding through my skull and into my heart. Thinking about Drezden sliding himself into any part of me was making me wilt.
For a long moment, I stood with my hand on the brass handle of my door. I was counting the seconds. Each one was a bit of existence where a solid barrier stood between Drezden and me. I needed that protection; willing my body to calm the fuck down wasn't working.
Okay, I told myself. I'm ready. I can do this.
Tensing my jaw, I pushed out into the hall. Drezden was waiting for me.
His ankles were crossed where he leaned on the far wall, his fingers in his pockets. He reminded me of a cowboy from an old western; he even had an unlit cigarette in his teeth. The heavy cloak of tobacco was hanging all over him. Was he smoking in his room?
Drez pushed the cigarette to the corner of his mouth with his tongue. “I need a quick smoke before we head out. That alright?”
Shrugging, I propped my case on my hip. “It's whatever you want.”
He crooked an eyebrow but made no comment. I actually hesitated when he entered the elevator. The mirrored surface threw my bloodless face back at me. “You coming?” he asked nonchalantly.
Is he pretending nothing happened in here? Biting my tongue, I dragged myself inside. I guess that's the best way to handle this. I did reject him, it's only fair. If it was fair, why were my palms so clammy?
I knew the answer.
I told him to get off of me, told him this couldn't happen between us, and here I am lamenting his aloof fucking attitude. My head was throbbing. I started wishing for some Advil just to get through the next few hours.
When we landed in the lobby after our tense ride, Drezden marched through the doors. It was hard to keep up with him, his long legs gave him an advantage. We'd barely made it outside, his hands cupping around his lit cigarette, when a car pulled up in front of us. In the back seat, Porter and Colt waved.
“Hey!” The bassist looked quite proud. “Perfect! We were going to head out and send the car back for you two, but you're here, so just pile in.”
The end of Drez's cigarette smoldered; smoke billowed from his lips. “I need to finish this, first.”
Colt stretched over Porter, scowling wildly. “Man! Don't fucking smoke before you sing! I keep telling you this.”
It was a good point. For a man so obsessed with how the band sounded, it was out of place to see him openly indulging in his lung-ruining addiction. “Can't you just smoke after?” I asked softly.
His glare was so sharp I stepped backwards. “Are you giving me fucking advice on singing?”
“I'm only saying—”
“She's only saying what we're all saying,” Porter growled. Leaning out of the car, he took a swipe at Drezden's cigarette. Sidestepping, Drez avoided the attempt with ease. “Come on! Just get in the car!”
He faced away from all of us, inhaling deeply; his response was flat. “Send the car back for me.” Then he was gone, strolling around the building without looking back.
I took a single step after him before Porter reached out, grabbing me gently. I wasn't as slick as Drez; I couldn't avoid him. “Forget it, Lola. Let's just go.”
I asked, “Shouldn't we make sure he's okay? That he's coming?”
“He'll come.” Colt rubbed his shaved head roughly. “That guy just gets into a black fucking mood sometimes.”
In the evening sun, Porter's eyes looked like melting chocolate. “It's fine," he said. "Remember who we're talking about. Drezden won't abandon a show. Not ever.”
That word—abandon. It made my stomach contort like I'd swallowed rotten milk. Once, I would have believed Porter. The Drezden I thought I knew wouldn't walk away from a show, it wasn't in his blood.
But he wasn't the same man any longer.
Somewhere along the way, something had changed him. Something that had allowed him to think risking Four and a Half Headstones was worth it.
Me, I thought, climbing into the car with great effort.