“It’s about Alex. Who you looove.”
“Shut up, Z.” I shove her, starting a shoving match that ends with her threatening to hit me with her bass and my subsequent surrender.
We run through our set twice.
We’re tighter than we were a few days ago, even after the changes. Damon and Zara are always locked in together, and I hate to admit it, but Trent sounds good, too. That’s the only reason we keep the insufferable asshole around.
I’m great, as always.
We stop while Damon grabs a new drumstick, and I’m supposed to be tuning to drop D, but I’m still staring down at my phone when the guys are ready. “Hang on, let me reply to this text Alex sent—”
“Seriously?”
I pause typing to look up at Trent. “What?”
“Can you give it a rest already?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Alex. He’s literallyallyou talk about.”
“That’s not—”
“I mean it, man.” He shakes his head. “We’re tired of hearing about this dude.”
I look at Zara for backup, but she’s staring at her bass. Damon’s twisting a drumstick between his fingers, avoiding my eyes. “Come on, guys,” I say, feeling attacked all of a sudden.
“It’s not going anywhere,” Trent says, as easy as anything, like it wouldn’t break my heart if it were true.
“You don’t know that.”
He shrugs, ticking his points off on his fingers. “He doesn’t want to come to our shows. He won’t be with you in public. He goes home to his family for the holidays, and you don’t get an invite. What exactly do you think is going on?”
“It’s complicated,” I say, and even I can hear how pathetic it sounds.
“Sure. Complicated.”
“Trent,” Damon speaks up, a hint of warning in it.
“I’m serious.” Trent looks at me and, underneath the condescension he wears daily, I think he might mean it this time. “It’s kinda messed up to watch. Seeing how much you like this guy.”
“Alex is a sweet guy, genuinely, but—” Zara chimes in, and I think I see pity in her eyes. “You deserve to be with someone who’s proud to be with you.”
“He’s going through stuff,” I say, even though it’s not an excuse. “He has reasons.”
“I don’t want to see you getting hurt,” she says, with a sad smile.
“He’s not using me.”
Trent scoffs. “Why wouldn’t he? Look, I’m not trying to be a dick. I’m just saying. You wanna fuck somebody who’s not gonna ask too many questions.” He shrugs. “You go to Mike. Everybody knows that.”
“Face it, Mikey. All you are is a hole to him.”
I don’t say anything at all because what if he’s right?
What if that’s all I am to Alex?
“Trent,” Damon starts, standing up from his drums, in all his intimidating glory. “Not cool, man.”
