This time, I do laugh. It’s impossible not to after that statement. “You’re one to talk. Last I checked, you were the one who pretended you wanted to pursue things with me so you could steal my song, remember?”
I know I’ve got him because he doesn’t have a retort.
Then again, how could he? We both know I’m right.
His eyes drop to something on the floor. “You still have it.”
When I look down, I see the Papa Roach shirt he gave me.
The one I refused to wash for a month straight because it still smelled like him and my dumb teenage broken heart kept hoping he’d contact me and apologize for hooking up with Sabrina.
I shrug nonchalantly so he won’t read too much into it. “It’s not the band’s fault you’re an asshole.”
He stares at his former shirt for a few more moments before walking to the door.
I take a deep, cleansing breath; thankful he’s going because I hate these conflicting feelings oscillating within me whenever we’re in the same room.
He’s almost to the door when he halts his steps.
“I wasn’t pretending with you, Lennon.” Turning, he holds my gaze. “And yeah, I’ve fucked a lot of women.” His expression turns pained and his voice drops to a whisper. “Because after things ended between us, I knew I lost you for good.”
My heart folds in on itself as he walks out.
Yeah…you did.
CHAPTER 34
PHOENIX
Lennon scowls from her new bunk. “Stop staring at me.”
Apparently the one beneath mine was too close for comfort after last night’s conversation, so she asked Storm to switch when we loaded onto the bus.
What she didn’t realize at the time was that his bunk is directly across from mine. Which gives me a prime view of her.
She’s currently sitting with her legs tucked underneath her while listening to music on her phone…trying her best to ignore me.
“Can we switch back?” Lennon asks when Storm passes us on his way to the bathroom.
The look I give him makes it clear I oppose it.
“No backsies,” he mumbles before disappearing.
However, my victory is short-lived because George the wannabe climbs out of his bottom bunk. “I’ll switch with you.”
Asswipe. “Can’t,” I inform him. “Only original members of the band can authorize bunk arrangements.”
It’s a bullshit rule I just made up on the fly.
One Lennon calls me out on. “Oh, please. Since when?”
“Since always.” I knock on the bunk above mine. “Tell her, Memphis.”
“It’s true,” he says in a sleepy voice.
“You’re being juvenile,” Lennon mutters before regarding George. “Want to go watch a movie?”
“Sure.”
Not happening. Not without me anyway.
I’ve seen the way George looks at her, and if the motherfucker values his eyeballs, he’ll cut the shit out.
She might not be my friend, but she sure as fuck isn’t his. Or anyone else’s.
Exiting my bunk, I stand and stretch. “Which one do you have in mind? I prefer action flicks, but I can get down with some suspense or horror.”
Lennon looks like she’s about to throw a hissy fit, but the sliding door opens, and Chandler comes in.
“A word, Phoenix.”
It’s never just a word with him. It’s a never-ending sermon.
I don’t miss the taunting look Lennon gives me before she and George head toward the back of the bus.
“What do you want?” I bark as Chandler gestures for me to follow him into the kitchen.
Frustration colors his face as he takes a seat at the small table. “Did you call Skylar like I asked you to the other day?”
I don’t recall him asking. I recall him demanding I call her because evidently some of our fans are complaining online about me no longer singing Sharp Objects at concerts.
However, talking to Skylar is the last thing I want to do. “No.”
The bus comes to an abrupt stop in front of a hotel, which is weird because we’re nowhere near Colorado. “Why are we stopping here?”
Ignoring my question, he huffs, “You better get a pair of tweezers, pull out the bug that crawled up your ass, and sing the goddamn song at the next show.”
I can’t. Not while Lennon’s here.
“I’ll call Skylar later.”
That will get him off my case for a bit.
He smiles snidely. “No need.”
Without warning, the bus door opens, and a familiar petite blonde climbs up the stairs.