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“Really?”
“Yeah, really. Live fast, die young, and all that shit.”
I shake my head in despair, wishing someone, he didn’t dislike as much as me, could reach out to him. “We can’t go on like this. Steve’s strangling the life out of the band. Out of us.”
“Don’t start that shit again.” He pulls himself forward and heads back out of the room.
“Morning, summer Sky!” Jem’s voice full of false pleasure at seeing her carries back into the kitchen. I step out after him, concerned what will happen next.
The look on Sky’s face indicates I don’t need to worry; she carries a tired disdain in the curl of her lips and straight posture. Freshly showered, her damp hair is pulled back into a ponytail. She’s dressed in black leggings and a long grey jumper, her curves hidden. Seeing Sky pushes the desire to hold and comfort her above everything else, so I can’t resist going over and sliding an arm around her waist.
I kiss her softly on the mouth. “Sleep okay?”
Her pupils dilate as she looks at me. “Kind of.” Did she picture me naked in bed like I did her?
“Dylan says he wants me to tell you a story.” Jem smirks. “Funny, I offered to tell you months ago but no one would listen.”
“Did you?” she asks me.
“Final puzzle pieces,” I say.
“I just woke up,” groans Sky and pushes past into the kitchen.
“Not a morning person, huh?” asks Jem. “I’m with her on that one.” He begins to head back toward the other end of the apartment and I put a hand on his arm. He shrugs it off. “Don’t touch me, man.”
“You talk to us before you get wasted again or I’m calling Steve and asking him to come and get you.”
“I’ll tell her everything, Dylan,” he says in a low voice. “And I mean everything.”
I’m willing to take the risk; I told her everything there is to say, but Jem’s spin on things will be different.
* * *
Sky
The animositybetween Jem and Dylan has a strange tinge this morning. Maybe because Jem is sober? Or as sober as he gets, I imagine. He looks ill. Really ill. I know Dylan looks rough, but I can see why he’s worried about his friend. The fact I’m a source of conflict between them and I’m with them in Dylan’s apartment leaves me uncomfortable. What is their relationship now?
“Are we having the conversation standing in the middle of your hallway?” asks Jem. “I wanna leave before Steve tracks me down.”
“Where are you going?” asks Dylan.
“None of your business. May or may not be taking my shit hot heiress with me though.” He lopes off into the lounge. I roll my eyes at Dylan and follow.
We sit on the brown leather sofas, as if in some kind of weird business meeting. I’m not sure how I feel about what’s coming, and Dylan is rubbing his arm—if he’s told me everything, why is he nervous?
“What have you told her?” he asks Dylan, not looking at me.
“The truth.”
“All of it? I bet you didn’t. Bet you left the bits out that made you seem like the bad guy.” He turns his bloodshot eyes to me. “Did he tell you the game was all his idea?”
“He told me you played a game with her to see who she chose and that it ended badly,” I reply.
Jem rests his head on the back of the sofa and places his bare feet on the table. "And whose idea was the game, Dylan? You could've just left me and her alone instead of trying to get her interested in you."
“Both of us wanted to play, as always."
He scrutinises Dylan. "And who made Lily stay at your house, Dylan? If I'd known she didn't want to stay, I would have let her go rather than fuck up any chance with her." His tone hardens, holding truth I don't expect.
