Rhythm, Chord & Malykhin (14 page)

Sure I looked like a fool, but I didn't care. I wasn't the best dancer in the world, and I probably wouldn't want someone like Julian watching me, but this was Sacha. My friend who happened to be pretty much perfect in his own goofy way, who had admitted to crapping in a trash bag at one point.

When we started running in place really quickly, he leaned forward, pressing his sweaty forehead against mine. I tried to bat away the funny, warm feeling in my stomach at the contact, I swear, but it was unbelievably difficult. He was too cute and so happy it overwhelmed me. His eyes met mine, all wide and starry like he'd discovered a new constellation. "I don't remember the last time I had so much fun!"

There really wasn't a point in even trying to fight my feelings for this guy, was there?

O
n the first
day between tours, everyone with the exception of Sacha was busy nursing some degree of a hangover. He claimed he’d only drunk water all night. Show-off. I’d maxed out after two Long Island Iced Teas and a whiskey sour, but it had been more than enough to make me feel like hell the following morning. Needless to say, I was probably one of the people who felt the best. Gordo had drooped himself over one of my shoulders, and on my other side Carter had a wet towel over his face. The other guys looked like total shit when they weren’t busy barfing outside the bus on-and-off all night and early morning. I felt really bad for whoever was stuck collecting carts in the parking lot at the grocery store the bus had stayed overnight.

Once the projectile vomiting and
The Exorcist
reenactments were under control, the bus finally pulled away from the desecrated parking lot. It was a quiet ride to the hotel we were staying at near the airport. Once we pulled into the Wyndham, everyone jumped off and headed into their respective rooms to suffer in private.

My room was next to Eli’s and across from Gordo’s. I spent the rest of the day vegged out on top of the covers with the air conditioner on full blast, dressed in only my underwear with snacks from the vending machine keeping me fed until the in-house restaurant opened for dinner. I took two long, hot showers without my damn flip-flops on for the first time in what felt like a lifetime. My thighs were sore from all the ridiculous dancing the night before. More than half of it had been with Sacha, who laughed and smiled through it all awkwardly with me.

I did in fact learn firsthand that he was way worse at dancing than I was. But he was so silly and enthusiastic that it more than made up for his big, goofy feet and sharp hips.

The other half of the night I’d spent dancing with my brother, reading crazy text messages that Carter’s pissed-off girlfriend was sending him because she couldn’t believe he’d gone to a club without her, and watching Gordo strike out with guy after guy at the bar.

Close to noon the following morning, the phone next to my bed rang.

"Umm… hello?”

"Gaby?" Sacha's voice carried over the receiver.

"Oh, hey." I’d been wondering who the hell would be calling my room instead of my cell.

He let out a long sigh of relief. "Thank fuck. I think I called everyone but you."

I snorted because I knew he didn't have my cell phone number. From their camp, only Carter had it. We text-messaged each other throughout the night if it was too loud to talk in person.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

I kicked the covers off my legs and groaned. "Being a bum. What are you doing?"

"I just took a crap, and now I'm bored out of my mind. Want to go play some soccer?” He said it all in one breath, like taking a shit was the same as watching TV or something. When I didn’t respond, Sacha immediately threw out, “No death match crap again, just a regular game.”

"I will if you promise not to mess up my face… wait. How are we getting there?"

Sacha made a flat, huffing noise. "I rented a car. Unless you want to walk, I'll follow you in the car," he chuckled.

What the hell else was I supposed to do? Watch more television? “Sure.”

“Meet me in the lobby in fifteen," he ordered.

We hung up, and I got dressed for the first time in twenty-four hours. I sent Eli a text to let him know that I was leaving and headed to the lobby to meet up with Sassy. He was waiting there, in his black shorts and white T-shirt with Mateo and Isaiah alongside him.

"Morning," he said before Mateo echoed his greeting.

"Hey, guys," I told them, stopping in front of them.

Sacha shot me a smile. "Ready to go?"

I nodded and we headed out to the parking lot. There was a small red Kia parked in the lot. Mateo jumped into the front seat while Isaiah and I rode in the back.

"Are you ready for Australia?" Isaiah asked me quietly soon after buckling up.

“I hope so, I’m really excited. I keep checking to make sure my passport hasn’t walked out of my bag on its own.”

He gave me a hint of a smile. "It's my favorite place to tour, you’ll see. "

"I like Australia," Sacha piped up from the driver seat.

"I like Europe," Mateo added.

Sacha made a farting noise with his mouth, his attention focused on the road. "Everybody knows you just like going to the Red Light District."

"The Red,
Red
Light District?” I slowly asked like there was another Red Light District in the world.

Mateo had the decency to give me a sheepish smile over his shoulder. "Yeah."

"Interesting," I drew out the word, trying to imagine Mateo walking up and down the street, picking up hookers. He was average height, average build, dark-haired and dark eyed. Julian definitely looked like more of the type of pick up a prostitute, but what did I know?

Mateo began babbling about how there were more than just hookers in Amsterdam, but I kind of zoned him out a little. We pulled in next to a park soon afterward and jumped out of the car. I snatched the sunblock from Sacha when he was done with it and slathered on more than I probably needed. We paired into two teams. Mateo slapped Sacha on the shoulder in his way of claiming him, leaving Isaiah and I paired up together.

We ran and ran and ran.

Up and down the field over and over again, chasing each other around. Just like the first time we'd played, the game started off pretty clean. We kept a respectable distance between each other and only focused on our feet to steal the ball. But after a few close goals, Sacha's hip checked mine and it was game-fucking-on.

"You little cheater," he laughed when I poked him in the ribs to distract him.

We played on and off for close to two hours until I had to lie on the grass from how hard I was panting. Sacha snaked his hand out for me to take and hoisted me up onto my feet. We got back into the car, having decided to stop for food on the way back. As soon as we settled in, he passed me his iPhone between the seats.

"Put in your number," he demanded.

We were leaving the country in two days, and I didn’t see the point in giving him my number when he wasn’t going to be able to use it, but I kept my mouth shut. I'd just finished typing in my name and number when his phone started ringing. “Liz” appeared on the screen, making my stomach churn at the memory of Ronalda and Sacha sitting on the couch together.

Ugh.

"Your friend is calling," I muttered, handing him back his phone while trying not to make a face. Or at least a face Isaiah could see from his spot next to me.

Sacha glanced at the screen once he took the phone out of my hand, paused for a moment, and finally put it to his face to answer.

"Hey…I just got done playing soccer… With Mat, Isaiah and Gaby… Yeah, she played… No, I guess she doesn't worry about her bikini line… Having a tan line isn't the end of the world, Jesus… No… No… We're leaving in two days… I haven't changed my mind… Liz… Liz… We already talked about this… Look, we're going to eat. I'll call you when I get back… Because!”

Yeah, I was totally watching his face in the mirror. I had no shame. Sure I was trying not to make it noticeable, but my ear was out and listening to every word.

Later on, I could remind myself why my stomach hurt and deal with being in a bad mood, but in that instant, I was listening.

Sacha blew out a loud breath, his eyes darting to the ceiling for a split second before continuing his call. “You need to think about what I told you. I'm not going to change my mind… Now isn’t the time to talk about it… I told you in the bus—we’ve already gone over this. Okay?... I know… Okay… Bye."

Well, then. That was awkward.

Isaiah gave me a long side-glance before he cleared his throat. "She still giving you shit?"

Sacha nodded stiffly. I could see his hands flexing on the steering wheel. "She's just—," he grunted at the end in what I could only assume to be frustration.

Was it wrong that I sat there chuckling internally to myself? Nah. Well, maybe a little. I should have been sad that my friend was upset, but I wasn't.

"Women," Sacha huffed, turning really quickly to look at me with an impish grin.

I leaned forward and flicked his cheek in response.

"
W
hat are
my chances of dying of heatstroke?"

"You have a better chance of dying if I trip you on the way down."

I shot Sacha a dirty look as we walked down the stairs to our seats. It was the second day of our mini-break between tours, and the lucky bastard had gotten free tickets to a Philadelphia Alliance game. They were a soccer team for the Men’s American League. One of TCC’s fans had messaged him and offered tickets following a post he’d made on the band's Twitter account about our soccer game the day before. The four tickets he'd received were split between us, Julian and Mateo. Isaiah had bowed out with other plans. The big shocker of the day had been Julian, who finally wasn’t acting as if I had herpes. He’d actually smiled at me when I met up with them in the lobby.

"These are awesome," I said when we found the lower level row where our seats were located.

Julian wiggled his way in first; I followed behind with Sacha next and finally Mateo. The game was set to start in five minutes, and I really needed some water. The bright, blistering sun was almost painful. I’d put sunblock on the day before but I hadn’t reapplied it, and I’d gotten slightly burnt. My only relief was that the sun would be setting in about an hour. When a vendor started walking up and down the aisle immediately after we'd sat down, I shot up and tried to catch her attention.

"You guys want one?" I asked them.

Sacha and Julian nodded, and I shuffled to stand in front of Sacha so I could grab the three bottles and pay for them. Did I stop in front of him on purpose? No.

I was a damn liar. I sure as hell had. I was wearing my best pair of khaki shorts, and while I hadn’t grown into great breasts, I did have a decent butt, so sue me. Slinking back into my seat, I caught Sassy wiggling in his seat as he reached for the wallet in his back pocket.

I scowled over, tapping his arm. "Don't worry about it."

He frowned slightly before nodding. "Thanks."

Julian who hadn’t spoken to me in weeks, leaned over my seat. "Thanks, Gaby."

I nodded at him and settled in, gulping down half my bottle in one sip. "Do you ever go to games back home?" I asked them.

"No, San Jose is the closest city with a team, and we’re usually gone every summer anyway. You?"

"Same here. Houston is a few hours away. I've gone with my best friend a few times; her cousin actually plays for the women’s team there and sometimes gives her tickets,” I explained. “We’ve paid to go see the men’s team a few times. Laila likes to check out the guys.”

Sacha raised a brow, though his attention was focused on the field. “And you don’t?”

“Well, I don’t exactly leave my binoculars at home.”

He laughed and turned toward me. I struggled not to make a stupid face at his closeness. He smelled like clean, sweet man. "You’re something else, you know that?”

I tried to take his words for how he really meant them and managed to raise the corners of my mouth just a little.

He smiled and leaned back, but his eyes were different as he did it. Those pale gray irises were bright, alert and a bit guarded. That was weird.

The game started immediately after that, and the screaming in the stands ensued. The first half was insane; there were a couple of close goals and everyone would go berserk when the opposing team got too close to the Alliance goal. When two minutes were left on the clock in the first half, a Philadelphia striker scored a goal and the stands went to hell. I wasn't even an Alliance fan, but I jumped up with everyone else and double high-fived everyone nearby. When I turned to Sacha, he slapped both his hands against mine before pulling me in for a hot, tight hug that lasted exactly three awesome, friendly seconds.

During halftime Sacha and Miles got up to go buy things from the concession stand, leaving Julian and I together.

"Sorry about the Brandon thing," the man next to me said unexpectedly, shifting in his seat to look at me.

Tearing my eyes away from the dancers parading across the field at the end of their halftime routine, I gave him a hesitant smile and shrugged. "It's okay. I’m sorry Eli and I both lost our minds."

"We’ve been friends for a long time, you know. We toured together a few years ago when I filled in for his guitar player." He pursed his lips together. "I should have known you were his Gaby, but I wasn’t thinking…”

I could remember Brandon mentioning to me when we first started dating how he'd replaced members in his ensemble before I came around, so Julian's explanation made perfect sense.

“It’s okay. Consider yourself lucky it was only temporary.”

His snicker was so loud it caught me off guard. "Oh fuck, they suck, right?”

I nodded like I’d win an award for telling the truth about the human hemorrhoid’s band.

“I don't have it in me to tell him his music blows now," Julian said with another snicker.

That had me throwing my head back to laugh. "I never did either. He thought I wore earplugs because I didn't want to damage my ears."

Julian joined me, chuckling. "You're a cool girl, Gaby. I'm sorry for being an asshole."

I’d just gotten over being an asshole to his bandmate, so I couldn’t really be a hypocrite and not accept his apology. “Don’t worry about it.”

He reached his hand out and I couldn't help but smile at him in return as I shook his hand. “You really punched him in the throat?” he asked with amusement written all over his tone.

My face got a little red. “Yeah.”

Something cold pressed against the back of my neck and I yelped. Sacha held a bottle out, a furrow to his eyebrows as he looked down at me. "I brought you some water."

"Thank you, Sassy," I told him, taking the bottle. He had another one in his hand and a small-sized popcorn tucked under his arm.

Julian let go of my hand before he spoke. "You didn't bring me one?"