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I laughed and took a sip of my coffee. “Like you need your ego stroked any more. But yeah, running would’ve been…difficult.”
“Uh huh.” Viper smoothed the stubble on his jaw. He hadn’t shaved the past couple of days, but the look suited him. Made him look even more dangerous than I now knew he was. “So. I thought you had a good time last night.”
Good was an understatement, and as the images from the night before flashed through my mind, a small smile turned my mouth up. “I had a great time. Pretty sure you know that.”
“Oh yeah? What was with the vanishing act? I woke up lookin’ for you, but you’d ghosted.”
“Maybe I didn’t want you to see me crawl,” I teased. “Or maybe I was saving you the awkward morning after.” When Viper’s brows pulled together, I said, “You’re not the cuddling type, and I get that. So don’t worry; I’m not gonna pull a stage-five clinger act.”
“Huh.” Viper cocked his head to the side, studying me, but when he didn’t say anything else, I picked up my coffee.
“See you down there,” I said, walking by him out of the kitchen and heading to the studio.
There. Now he wouldn’t have to stress about whether I’d be cool about things. We could go back to working on music, and if something happened again between us, it happened again, and if not…well, at least things would stay amicable. Right?
Three
Viper
TODAY WAS GOING down the shitter, that was for damn sure. For the past eight hours we’d been locked up in the studio with the producers, and what did we have to show for it? Absolutely fucking nothing. Every song we’d attempted to lay down sounded jacked, and the more we reworked it, the more it tanked.
I’d like to say it was everyone’s fault, because that would be the easy out, but that would be a total lie. It was me, and only me. I was annoyed, irritated, and distracted as hell, and all because of the man sitting behind the piano on the opposite side of the room to me—Halo.
“Stop, stop, stop,” Killian called out for the umpteenth time, and aimed a glare my way that spoke volumes—volumes on how much he thought I sucked. “V, you totally missed your cue. What the hell is going on with you today? The concert last night make you deaf or something?”
I narrowed my eyes on Killian, who was waiting for some kind of explanation as to why I couldn’t seem to get my shit together today, but when nothing logical sprang to mind, I said, “How about you get off my ass?”
Killian walked over to me, his eyes blazing, an argument swirling in their depths even as he tried to bank it. “Maybe if you had someone on your ass you’d be in a better mood. Jesus, V. I can’t remember the last time you sounded so off.”
I could. It was right after Trent Knox had walked out on the band. My concentration had gone to shit for about three months after that. Actually, it hadn’t gone to shit—it had found its way down to the bottom of every bottle of whiskey I could get my hands on. And as I stood there facing off with Killian, I tried to pinpoint what exactly it was about my exchange with Halo in the kitchen that had me so…so…pissed the fuck off.
“Sorry I can’t always be perfect. Maybe you bunch of losers should start pulling your weight.”
Killian grabbed hold of my arm, his fingers digging in tight, as he turned me away from the rest of the band members. “Seriously, V? What’s going on with you?”
Aiming my eyes at the hand Killian had on me made him let go. “Nothin’,” I said, knowing that was a total lie. But considering I didn’t even know why I was so prickly, I couldn’t exactly explain it to Killian. Could I? “I’m just having an off day, and I don’t appreciate you getting all up on me about it.”
“I thought I’d been pretty good about keeping my mouth shut, considering this mood of yours has been lingering like a dark cloud from the second you stepped inside the studio this morning.”
After shoving my hand through my hair, I shook my head and reached for the strap of my guitar, pulling it up and over my head. “Well how about I do you all a favor, then, and leave. That way, you can all play with yourfuckingselves without me.”
I turned away from Killian to put my guitar in its case, and as I did, my eyes caught on Halo’s, which were locked on the two of us, a frown marring his forehead. I could see the concern in those light eyes of his, the confusion. But whatever. He was the one who’d decided to walk last night without bothering to say a word, so it wasn’t like I owed him any kind of explanation as to why I suddenly wanted to put my fist through a wall—even if he was the reason.
