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“Last year was probably one of the worst we've had. I never want to experience another one of us almost dying again.”
“No shit,” I huff as I check my phone again. Then toss it down in frustration when nothing appears on the screen but notifications I don't care about.
Seriously, Devon, what the fuck? I give in a little and then he ghosts me? How fucking apt, seeing as it's Halloween. Which reminds me…
“You doing anything later?” I ask. “Owen's begging everyone to go to a Halloween party at some club.”
Tay shakes his head. “Nah. We plan on passing out candy like a bunch of old fucks. Maybe order some pizza.”
“Sounds nice.” Honestly, I wouldn't mind doing the same, just not by myself. Fuck, if Dev wants to do his own thing all day, maybe I should do mine and find a lady to share it with. Since he apparently can't be bothered to even send a text back.
“Anyway,” Tay continues, running a hand through his hair. “Reason I came over is because I have some cool shit to share. Salem sent a few of Huck’s drawings to her partners and now Symbiotic wants to commission some merch designs.”
“For real?” I perk up despite myself and lean back against the workbench. “Like… actually commission? With money and contracts and shit?”
“Yep! Legit. Hoodies, T-shirts, maybe an album cover if we're lucky.”
“That’s huge, man. I bet he's stoked.”
“Ecstatic. Even teared up a little.”
Snorting, I clap my best friend on the shoulder. “Tell him I said congrats. We still need to send his designs over to Royce to print our beanies.”
“About that…” Tay winces before pulling out his phone to show me the screen. “Have you checked your socials lately? They're like… dead.”
“You know I don't have time for that shit, man. I've been working and riding. Not all of us are dating an NFL player.”
“Yeah, and that's why TOT is losing sponsorships,” he sighs, biting his lip. “We had a huge following last year, especially after the tour. Without Salem posting content for us, we're losing the momentum we had. People are commenting on our old posts, asking what happened to us.”
My chest tightens, and I wipe my hands clean on a rag. “Okay, so, how do we fix it? She used to film thirst traps and shit, I'm not doing that on my own.”
“We don't need thirst traps. People liked us because of our stunts, not because we're hot. Which we are, by the way.”
“Alright, so we go back to filming our practices? Snap a couple of selfies on our bikes every once in a while, wearing our sponsored gear? That's basically what we were doing before.”
He reaches out to tap on the bike frame. “Yeah, and maybe some of this? Your daily life? You know, like, engage with people and make yourself seem human?”
“I am human.”
“Debatable.”
I toss a dirty rag at his face, but he bats it away with a grin.
“Doesn't have to be anything complicated, man. Huck posts a few clips here and there of his drawing process. We can do shit like that. You post updates on this bike you're building, and I'll, uh… take pictures of my rabbit? The hardwood floor we're refinishing? Shit, maybe I should do a thirst trap or two.”
Grabbing my phone again, I raise my shirt and stick the hem in my mouth before doing the same to Taylor. “Here. Hashtag ‘the boys are fucking back, baby.’”
“Huck’s gonna lose his shit over that,” he chuckles when I snap a picture of our abs. “But yeah, that'll work. Send it to me. It'll probably cause more questions about Devon, though.”
Just the sound of his name kicks my heartbeat up a notch, but I force my face to remain neutral. “What do you mean?”
“Everyone saw you guys kiss in Ohio, remember? He was kind of part of our show for a minute. There've been a few comments from fans asking where he went, whether you two are dating or if you broke up. I dunno, man, but nobody's answering them.”
“People online need fucking hobbies,” I mutter as I check my texts again. Still nothing from the man himself, and it's been well over six hours now. In my head, I picture him crawling back to Arnie’s for a hit. Once again shacking up in that motel room and falling back into old habits.
Jesus Christ, what the hell is wrong with me? If Devon wants to snort away his money, why should I give a shit? We fucked once. Not like it meant anything. He said it himself.
“Let's not be Devon and Christian tonight. We're just two guys looking to scratch an itch.”
