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Trine
Idon’t know why Misha is here, or why he had to tell me this information. This isn’t helping me, and it’s definitely not helping the person it’s supposed to be helping. Now that I’m sobering up, I’m fighting a headache, and the idea that Tom is going through something similar makes me feel sick to my stomach.
Tom doesn’t deserve to go through this. Nobody deserves to go through this.
It’s fucking torture.
"How can I help?" I ask Misha, meeting his eyes. For the first time since I’ve met him, I take in the color of his eyes. They’re dark brown, practically black, and they glimmer when he picks up his head to look at me. It feels like he’s looking right into my soul, but he doesn’t stop looking at me, his gaze glued to my eyes.
"I don’t know yet," he says. "I just need to find out more about this kid. Anything you might know."
"I don’t really know him that well," I reply. "He came to a few of our shows a couple of years ago. He always seemed really nice, he was into the music. He always congratulated us when a set was over regardless of how bad it was because he seemed like an absolute sweetheart."
"Anything about him stand out?"
"No?" I say, closing my eyes and trying to think of anything. "He would come to the shows alone sometimes, and sometimes he would bring a friend or a girlfriend or whatever. He was always a fixture. Then I got sick, and when I came back, he wasn’t showing up anymore."
"Wait," he says, taking his phone out of his pocket. "Do you mind if I record this?"
"Record what?" I ask. "There’s no new information here. I’m not actually helping you."
"You’re wrong. You’re already helping me, Trine," he says. "This is very useful to me."
I sigh, rubbing my temple. This headache is coming on strong. I’m not looking forward to it. "That’s all I know about him," she says. "Actually, no. He jokingly tried to ask Kelly out once, but she said no. She thought it was just him messing around, but I’m almost sure that he meant it. Kelly laughed it off."
"Kelly…"
"Our keyboard player," I say. "She’s very pretty, it happens a lot. She’s an expert at laughing it off, and you know, he’s a little young for her. She likes…she has a type."
"A type," he echoes.
"Like a professor type," I say, then wave him off. It’s the alcohol. It went straight to my head and now I’m saying things I really shouldn’t be saying. "Anyway, it’s none of my business. But yeah. That’s all I know about Tom."
He grabs his phone out of his pocket and puts it on the bed between us. I watch him unlock the screen, but he doesn’t start the recording app yet. He looks up at me instead, his eyes narrowing. "Before we start this," he says. "I want to apologize to you."
"Apologize?" I ask. "You didn’t—you just told me the truth. You don’t have to apologize for anything."
"Rei Woods is a good guy, Trine," he says after a beat. It seems like he’s gathering his courage to speak before he does again. "And what he does is not my concern. I might’ve been the one to prompt him to see you, but he doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do."
"Are you saying he didn’t lie to me?"
He shakes his head. "I’m saying that if you listen to him, like really listen to him, he probably already had told you," he says. "And I suppose he wanted to bring that up in conversation later on. You should at least hear him out."
"Why?" I ask, shrugging my shoulders. "It feels like he played me."
"If he did, he wasn’t trying to," he replies.
"Why are you so invested in this?" I ask, baring my teeth at him. "I thought you were here for Tom, not to play wingman for your friend."
He sighs. "I am here for Tom," he says. "And I don’t particularly want you to hook up with Woods again."
"Why not?" I ask. "You keep saying it’s none of your business."
He closes his eyes, considering this for a second. "I’m going to tell you the truth," he says. "But I think you might hold it against me."
I inch a little closer to him, my knees touching the footboard of the bed. "Now I’m really curious," I say.
"I was just a little annoyed he got there first," he says softly.
