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I smile. “Exactly. But he also knows I know what I want. He wants me to be happy, too.”
Another weak smile from him, this time followed by a defeated chuckle. “Right.” Reaching down, he grabs a water bottle and takes a quick drink. “You know, I think I might be getting sick or something. That’s why I’ve been off.”
“Oh no.” I step closer to give him another hug, but he holds his hand up, stopping me.
“Don’t.” It’s not harsh, but it still makes me feel like he’s rejecting me. A small grin comes over him, and he waves it off. “I mean, if I am getting sick, I don’t want you to catch it. I’ll just power through my next set and head home.”
I stare back at him, unsure. Unsure of what, I have no idea. He has no reason to make up a lie about being sick, but everything about our interaction feels off.
“Okay, then. I hope you feel better. Um, text me in the morning if you want some chicken soup or something,” I add with a smirk, trying to get a laugh out of him, but I get nothing.
The stage manager opens the door, alerting him about his next set. “Five minutes, Maddox.”
“Thanks.”
I glance around the small room, still feeling uneasy. There’s like a thick cloud of confusion encircling us, but I have no idea what it’s from. I guess it could be from him being sick, but I feel like it’s something else. I just wish I knew what.
“I guess I’ll let you get back to work, DJ,” I tease, hoping it’s finally something that breaks this perplexing state I feel we’re in.
It doesn’t. He simply nods with a small smile, watching me leave the room.
