He flinched slightly and said, “Yeah, too many. Thanks to your loud mouth. Sorry, I don’t want those to be our last words.”
“Stop it, he’s not a stalker or a serial killer. Go get your—” Luka slapped his hand over August’s mouth and he could feel them smiling against his palm. He slowly lowered it, trying to give them a look they knew meant to behave. “—dick sucked.”
“God damn it.”
“I’ll be at the motel with my ringer on high. Let me know when you’re on your way back so I can let you in. We’ll drive home in the morning.”
“Thank you,” Luka said, meaning it entirely. “I will.”
August hugged him then turned away to the guard. “Take him away, sir!”
Luka looked up at him and saw that he looked bemused before he cleared his throat. “Sure thing.” He looked August up and down like he was trying to figure out if he should say Sir or Ma’am but shrugged instead and turned without saying either, motioning for Luka to follow.
He could feel the girls at the table ogling him the whole walk down the stairs. When he turned to look back up at the balcony, they were there, watching with their elbows on the railing. One of them had her phone pointed at him.
He swore internally and tugged his sleeve down again. He hoped whatever video or photo they got was too blurry to show who he was.
The guard led him through a door to the side of the stage behind a few venue guards, who just wore t-shirts with ‘security’ printed in white on them. The stairs beyond the door were littered with graffiti, and on closer inspection, Luka realized it was mostly musicians’ signatures. The guard walked him down the stairs, then jutted his thumb to the door on the right.
“Bathroom.”
“Thanks,” Luka said, darting inside as fast as he could. It was mercifully clean, and a single stall, so he locked the door and let himself slump against it for a moment, trying to take stock of his body and his mind, only to find his heart racing and his shirt upsettingly damp under the arms and over his back.
He used the toilet, washed his hands, and pulled off August’s beanie when he checked himself out in the mirror, trying tosalvage his hair. He’d opted for something more casual, a long-sleeve shirt one of his friends designed, black with white screen print of a deer twisting in several directions with arrows going down the sleeves. Black ripped jeans, chains hanging from his hip, and his black and white adidas. He wasn’t trying to present himself as someone he wasn’t, and he didn’t really dress up often anymore— not like he did when he was fifteen.
He’d changeda lotsince then, and he needed Reno to see him for who he was, and not for the girl Reno had met ten years ago.
Luka rubbed his hands over his face, feeling the stubble there, looking at his straight, thick brows and light brown eyelashes, his cheeks red from the over-warm venue, and he decided if he didn’t get away from the mirror, he would never leave the bathroom out of sheer nerves.
He pulled his shirt to his nose and thanked God that he smelled nice and not like sweat. When he left the bathroom, he found the guard leaning against the opposite wall, waiting. He looked unbothered as he pushed upright and led Luka the rest of the way to a door that said ‘Greenroom’.
He opened it to Luka’s heart pounding in his chest, and on the other side of the door, across the room, bending forward and arranging his hair in the mirror, was Reno.
CHAPTER FIVE
Reno madeeye contact with Luka through the mirror and his lips parted with a gasp. He straightened up and turned, a slight smile on his face, and said, “Come on in, sit.”
Luka stepped in and looked where Reno motioned to Zana who was sprawled out on one side of a couch. His head and arms were resting on the back of the couch, tattooed throat exposed to the room and his wild, bleached-blond hair spread out around him. Luka wondered for a moment if he was asleep before he lifted his head and looked right at Luka with pitch black eyes.
When he spoke, it was surprisingly gentle for someone who spent every night growling on stage.
“Yeah, sit. Want a beer?”
T-yan and King were missing from the green room and overhead, Luka heard the set start for Hearts n Hell.
“No thanks, is there water?”
“You straight-edge?” Zana asked before patting the seat next to him. “T-yan doesn’t drink on tour, just when we’re home. Says it slows down his drumming.”
“No, I just promised my roommate I would be good,” Luka admitted, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch, trying not to invade Zana’s personal space. It felt decently tricky;Zana’s limbs were so long. Reno plopped down on the ground in front of the couch with a beer in his hand, crossing his legs, his shorts not doing an outstanding job at covering him up. He leaned an elbow on a knee and propped his chin in his hand, looking up at Luka, who didn’t know if he should look back.
“Are you usually?” Reno asked, his voice deeper than Luka remembered. Reno was grinning as he set the beer on the ground between them.
“What?” Luka didn’t know what to do with his hands. Zana got up to dig around in the mini fridge and suddenly, dealing with Reno’s attention directly was a lot to handle.
Reno cocked his head a little before asking, “Are you usually good?”
Luka felt his cheeks heat and he looked away, thankfully right on time to see Zana hold a bottle of cold water out for him. He took the bottle and stalled before opening it.
