“You haven’t been that involved with us over the past few months. Long before…” His eyes go to Rylee, apology settled into them when they lock eyes. Then they return to me. “With the press badgering all of us to comment on the status of our friendship and stability of the band, it’s hard to convince them we’re fine when we’re barely seen together.”
“Not to mention the cancelled interviews,” Cal adds from across the kitchen where he’s pulling out an unopened bag of pretzels I bought for Rylee when she said they were her favorite.
I point out the obvious. “The media hasn’t said a word about the band since news about Rylee and me have hit online, so that doesn’t even matter. Plus—” I throw a hand toward the front door. “The people loitering on my property probably took pictures of all of you coming in. Problem solved if you’re worried about the rumors starting up.”
Zayne walks over to Cal and takes the pretzels, shoving them back into the cupboard and ignoring the frown he gets from his bandmate. “We could have handled the media without the drastic measures you’ve taken like we’ve done hundreds of times before,” he remarks, eyes roaming to Rylee and then me. “But I get why you did it.”
“Despite that,” Manning intervenes. “It’d just be nice to see the guys together again. Maybe this party isn’t the worst thing. We could use time enjoying ourselves instead of going for each other’s necks like we are in the studio.”
Considering he’s not typically the voice of reason, I don’t find his words that endearing. Especially with everyone besides Zayne nodding along, not shocking since the two guys who started this are determined to make it happen.
The album is almost done with the exception of a few tweaks that we need to make. Reg will get us back in when he needs us to get everything finalized, so we won’t be snapping at each other like the last few recordings have gone.
“No,” I repeat. “We could have done a fucking movie night if you wanted the bonding experience. We haven’t done one in a while.”
It’s Rylee who murmurs, “Garrick…” Ignoring the tools in the room, I turn to face her, head cocked, and brows drawn. “You should have fun and spend time with them. I don’t want to mess any of that up.”
I doubt there’s anything I can say that will convince her otherwise, so I don’t try arguing the fact that I’m content staying in with her. When it’s just Rylee and me, she opens up. Tells me about stories of her Grandma Birdie and their gardening, or her parents taking Sunday drives and stopping to get milkshakes in the summers at their favorite ice cream shop, or all the old recipes she and her Grandpa Al would make in the kitchen together that she still remembers today even without the original recipe cards that were lost in a fire at her grandparents’ home years ago.
There’s a peace to her when she talks about her past, her childhood and family, and it’s ten times better than watching my friends act like idiots around women, and strangers making fools of themselves when they approach us at things like this because they want something.
No matter what she thinks, a night spent here is always going to be better than one at the Lazy Croc. As I get older and grow more comfortable in my situation with her, I realize this is the life I want for myself. Peaceful. Quiet. Something cemented.
“You heard the lady.” Jax clasps my shoulder and pulls out his phone. “Let’s get this shit started. It’s been too long.”
Zayne and I exchange a wary look.
Rylee nibbles her bottom lip.
“It’ll be okay,” I assure her, pressing a kiss to her cheek and making her entire face turn red when the guys all gape at us.
Manning’s lips waver into a smile.
Zayne’s twitch.
Jax grins.
And Cal is too busy bombarding my kitchen for food to care that I can’t seem to stop touching Rylee.
She’s my new addiction.
Two and a half hours into the party and there’s no way it’s going to stop anytime soon. Jax is drunk and dancing with two blondes, Calder is trying to schmooze a group of women who are staring between him and Manning, and Zayne is nowhere to be found.
Rylee escaped upstairs to lock herself in her room, despite me trying to convince her to stay with me, over an hour ago. It leaves me glaring alone at every asshole who knocks something over or pulls out something from their pocket that definitely shouldn’t be around me.
A nail scrapes down the front of my chest, snapping my attention to a girl with black hair giving off fuck-me-vibes that I’m certainly not feeling. Maybe six months ago I’d be tempted, but not tonight, not when there’s someone upstairs I’d rather be with. I peel her hand away and get an offended look from her and the girls behind her clearly cheering her on.
I don’t recognize half the people I pass as I make my way into the kitchen. Most of my cupboards have been raided, leaving no more than plates and glasses in them, and the garbage is overflowing with wrappers, cans, and bottles that I know Yasmin will be yelling at me for since she’s all about recycling and saving the environment after her and my mother joined a stop global warming tree hugging club.
Cursing, I pull my phone out.
Garrick: How are you holding up?
Rylee: Talking to Moffie
Garrick: Want company?
Rylee: Stay with your friends
I don’t know if she noticed before leaving me to the people here, but my friends ditched me as soon as the women arrived. Sans Zayne, who I study the room for. Knocking on the half bath downstairs to make sure he’s not inside doing something
