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“Then tell him to stop. Tell him you’re still pissed off,” I say evenly, as I attempt to tap down my rising frustration. That fucker is going to be a problem. I know it.

“That’s what he wants, and I’m not going to give it to him,” Lyric says with some bite to his tone.

“At least he knows it was a dick move to listen to your father.”

“It was.”

“I don’t know what his intention is, but one thing I do know is that Eun has feelings for you. I saw it at the hotel, and again when he cockblocked me here.”

“That’s not possible, Eun is straight. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about him. We need to focus on the next part of this game my father initiated,” he says the last bit with another yawn.

“And that is?” I ask, leaning in, cupping his cheek and then placing a chaste kiss on his well-used mouth. I almost feel sorry for what I did last night. Or, rather, this morning. Almost.

“We need to advertise. And I know who to call. But first, I need breakfast.” Lyric gets out of bed, grabs a pair of sweatpants from his drawer and puts them on, along with a Warrior Black concert t-shirt from the very first concert we put on in Rosemont, Illinois. I’m taken aback at the sight of the shirt, not sure what to say.

It’s a simple design, only our logo on the front and the short list of tour dates and venues that we did then in the Midwest. We sold out of the t-shirts at every venue on the tour. And the Rosemont concert was no different. But that was several years back. Lyric wasn’t working for Warrior Black at the time, so he must have attended one of the concerts and bought one.

To see it on Lyric makes my heart ratchet up with pure elation.

My mind scrambles through my memories, trying to recall if Lyric ever said that he was a fan of our band. And nope. Not once did he ever mention it to me. Though now that I think about it, in the beginning when he first started with us, I tried to keep my distance from him, thinking that he disliked me.

I eye the well-worn, black t-shirt. “Where did you get that shirt?”

Lyric looks down at it and freezes. His eyes slowly return to me; his mouth is clamped tight and he doesn’t say anything.

“Are you a Warrior Black fan?” I push.

“Umm. I bought it secondhand?” he says, his eyes shifting to the floor.

“Liar. Where did you really get this concert tee?” I stand, walk to him and touch the logo Danny, Connor, Callum, Bobby and I created in Bobby’s garage. A small symbol of each of us in the logo.

Since then, we have changed the logo slightly, made the wings bigger and put our band’s name in a more appealing font. The design is still simple, like us. But what Lyric was wearing is the original logo of our band.

“Lyric.” I tip his chin up so his beautiful, soulful eyes meet mine.

“Alright. I’m a fan.” His shoulders slump like he has just lost a battle. A battle of wits.

“For how long?” I give one of my most devilish grins.

“Since I saw you guys at Blossom Amphitheater in Ohio,” he admits sheepishly. “I missed the one in Rosemont so I had to see you guys at the next one.”

“That was close to six years ago. It was our first major tour. We kicked it with several bands.” I stare at Lyric like he has two heads. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Well, I did.”

“When?”

“When Callum was in the hospital. I told… Danny—or was it Callum? I can’t remember. Does it matter?” Lyric folds his arms across his chest, like he’s annoyed.

“It does to me,” I bluster out. “Did you have a thing for me back then?”

Lyric’s eyebrows rise high, right into his messy bangs. “No.”

I pause for moment, not sure if I should ask, because I know it will only piss me off but my curiosity gets the better of me. “Then who?”

He bites his lower lip and backs away from me. “I didn’t crush on anyone.” He moves closer to the door.

“Lyric, tell me,” I growl, ready to grab him and stop him from fleeing the room, and me.