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To say I’m nervous about meeting the other members of Atonement is an understatement. I’m petrified. When I played festivals and venues, I rarely socialised with the others. And even if I did, it was always after I’d consumed a fuckton of drugs or alcohol. Sometimes a combination of both.
Exiting the plane, I fire off a text to Hail to let him know I’ve arrived.
Hurry that cute ass up! Is it wild to admit that I missed you?
A smile plays on my lips. Above his message is his congratulatory selfie on landing the job. I definitely didn’t save it to my photo album.
I find him posted up at the curb outside the airport entrance sporting a backwards hat and sunglasses.What a lame disguise. His black Bad Omens shirt does little to hide his definition or tattoos. But I don’t mind the sight.
Swallowing my nerves, I roll my suitcase up to the ostentatious black SUV he’s standing in front of.
“Yay, Liam didn’t eat you alive.” Immediately, he sweeps me into a hug, a risky move with countless pairs of eyes on us. Still, I find it impossible to pull away from him. Hail feels like home, even though I don’t know what that should feel like. This has to be close. His touch temporarily fills that emptiness in my chest, and I hate myself for it.
Focus on work. Focus on work.
When I informed Selma that I’d be touring with Atonement, she told me, with love, not to come back. Told me I better experience everything Mykhail Koval had to offer me or we wouldn’t be on speaking terms.
Considering Selma’s my only friend, if I can even call her that with my lack of effort, I take that threat seriously.
“You hungry?” Hail asks after we climb into the SUV. Rapidly, he becomes flustered as he forgets where the turn signal is located. The windshield wipers snap back and forth with vigor, and he matches their shrill, dry screeches with cuss words.
“What, was the rental agency all out of fancy cars today?” I tease.
Hail purses his lips in a pout. “Liam threatened to fuck me up if I took the sports car this time. He always gets dibs on the nicer shit.”
A gentle laugh escapes me as he starts the vehicle and merges out onto the street. The lanes here are so wide, it’s no wonder Americans keep designing bigger vehicles.
“Back to my original question. Food?” Hail glances over at me. In the privacy of the SUV, he lets his eyes peruse freely. I squirm in my seat. I dressed down for the flight, choosing grey joggers and a tattered black hoodie, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
“Food,” I agree, running a hand over my growling belly.
Hail pulls into a parking lot in front of what looks like somebody’s house. It’s a brown brick building with a few tables and umbrellas scattered in the paved front yard. The inside is reminiscent of a pub back home, and when we’re handed menus, I can’t help but sink my teeth into my bottom lip to hold back a hearty laugh.
“This is British food.”
Hail fidgets in his chair. “Shit. Do you want to go somewhere else? I panicked over what American food to feed you. Decision-making is hard with ADHD.” He flushes and looks at the front door like he wants to escape. “I knew I should have gone with chicken instead.”
“This is good.” His expression remains like that of a wounded animal, so I add, “Seriously, Hail. You did perfect.”
His smile returns, and my heart stumbles. For a moment, I let myself take him in. The life that shines from within him is like staring at the sun without the threat of permanently burning your eyes.
We order pretzels with mustard and cheese to start. The waiting staff offers beers, and Hail orders one, but then changes his mind when I stick with water.
“I didn’t even ask if you drink.” He frowns.
Nerves prickle under my skin. “I don’t.”
When he starts messing with his silverware and straightening the salt and pepper shakers, I’m desperate to put him at ease. “It’s okay. You can get a beer. It doesn’t bother me. I made a choice to quit it after some struggle with addiction years ago.”
Somestruggle is a stretch, but I downplay it to keep him from worrying more. It’s the first real sliver of my darkness I’ve offered up. We don’t need to take a deep dive into my ugly past while trying to enjoy a meal.
Hail nods. “Liam doesn’t drink either.”
“He came to Selma’s bar with you,” I comment, swiping another bite of pretzel in the melty cheese. God, I missed savory food. With my new job, I look forward to experiencing American fast food and copious amounts of snacks, but not until I’ve paid some bills. I should be able to catch up on Mum’s house payment with two paychecks. Then I’ll start chipping away at her treatment facility balance.
“For some unknown reason, he lets me torture him.” Hail shrugs. “Like you, he made a choice at a young age never to touch it after witnessing how it can destroy more than one life.”
Swallowing down unpleasant feelings crawling up my throat like insects, I ask, “You’ve known each other a while, then?”
