5

"Earth to Theo!"

Startled, my attention snaps up from my phone and finds Jesse's eyes, a warm shade of light brown, fixed on me with an annoyed expression. "Sorry," I say, keeping my tone cheerful as I grab my drink. "Band stuff."

Though he's doing his best to mask it, his irritation still lingers. I agreed to meet him for coffee after we exchanged numbers on my birthday, but I can't focus my attention away from Dante's texts.

Or rather, lack thereof.

In the days since we were at the club, he's limited his messages to a quick confirmation that I made it home safely and a few band-related items. No casual chatter, none of the playful banter we normally engage in.

Even my most recent text didn't get him to bite.

He responded with a thumbs up. A thumbs up. I get that he's older than me and might not be up to speed on certain social norms, but everyone knows that's a slight. An intentional dismissal.

"That band consumes all of your time," Jesse says, redirecting my focus to him once more. There's a tense energy in his narrowed eyes as he watches me, almost as if he's trying to pick a fight. "It's been four days since I asked you out, and now that you're here, you aren't even paying attention to me." He sticks his lip out in a pout as a pang of guilt makes me cave, silencing my phone and pushing it into my pocket.

"You're right, I'm being rude, and I apologize. The band takes up a sizeable chunk of my time, but you have to understand it's my job. You wouldn't appreciate me getting irritated with you for being too busy to talk while you're at work, would you?" Jesse is in law school on top of his part-time gig at Prism, and our schedules have clashed until this point.

Well, they clashed along with a modest dose of hesitation on my end.

He gives in, face softening and an apologetic smile slipping across his mouth. "No, I suppose not. I'm being a brat and hadn't thought of it that way. It just felt like you didn't want to see me."

I'm too nice, and too much of a pushover to voice my hesitation for this date. In the beginning, flirting with Jesse was a way to make Dante jealous—an admittedly terrible idea that seemed brilliant in my intoxicated state. But after a few dances at the club, he made a bold push for us to explore where this could lead.

Right now, the only place I want to go is home, and that makes me an even bigger jerk.

"It's not that," I assure him with a smile that attempts confidence. "My life is chaotic and unpredictable, more than it ever has been, and I'm not sure a relationship is in the cards for my near future. I would hate to lead you on if we are on completely different wavelengths. We can be friends and hang out, Jesse... test the waters. But I can't promise more."

"Hey," he says with a syrupy sweet smile, reaching across the table and gripping my hand. "Wherever you are in your life, whatever you're looking for… I can be patient. I'm fine with taking things slow."

A moment of hesitation passes as I pull my hand away, using my coffee as an excuse to escape his grip. "Okay, but why me?"

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Are you serious right now, Theo? You show up in that sexy outfit, flash me that gorgeous smile, and you expect me to not be smitten? Give yourself some credit, sweetheart."

"Yeah, that outfit was pretty smokin', wasn't it?"

"The smokin-est," he agrees with a grin.

As I contemplate my next question, I take a sip of coffee and determine that being straightforward is the best approach. "This is going to sound awful, so I'll go ahead and apologize in advance…"

"Yippee!" he whisper-yells with a smile, waving his hands in the air in faux excitement.

"Your interest in me… it isn't because of the band, is it? I have an entire inbox full of ignored emails from guys insisting that they're my soulmate based strictly on watching me play the guitar on stage. People I've never even spoken to, just looking for their chance in the spotlight."

Jesse cocks his brow at me as I hurry to continue. "Don't worry, I'm fully aware of how arrogant that sounds. We aren't famous enough for me to have an inflated ego, but that doesn't mean we won't be bigger someday. I will not allow myself to be used." The conviction in my last statement surprises him.

He nods slowly for a second. "Okay, that's fair. But when you pulled in, I had no way of knowing you weren't just another cute guy celebrating his birthday. It's not like you were driving a fancy, flashy car or running around yelling that you're in a successful rock band."

"Did you recognize us?"

There is no hint of shame or hesitation on his face as he nods again. "When I saw the five of you in that booth, it clicked, and I realized who you were. On your own, I don't think I would've recognized any of you, but you have to admit you make a unique group when you're together."

"Did that influence your decision to ask me out?"

He sighs, reaching out and tentatively taking my hand. "Theo, I understand your need for caution, but can you please believe for a moment that I like you for you , not for what you bring to the table?"

"You don't know me," I point out, tilting my head.

"Not yet," he agrees, giving my fingers a squeeze before releasing me and sitting back in his chair. "Isn't that why we're here? To get to know each other?"

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and it takes all my self-control not to grab it and check if it's Dante. I swallow hard and give a long, loud sigh. "Alright," I say, and he flashes me a winning smile. "I am pretty amazing, after all. What do you want to talk about?"

"Sorry I'm late guys!" I shout, sprinting through the hallway at the studio. "I've been around Eric too much and I forgot how to tell time!"

"Fuck you, Theo!" Eric's voice booms back at me as I skid around the corner with a troublemaker grin on my face.

An unexpected person in the room causes my smile to spread. "Monica! I didn't know you'd be here today."

"Would it have made you on time?" she teases, coming over to squeeze me in a hug.

"Probably not."

"Hot date?"

I laugh and give her a gentle shove on her shoulder. "Something like that." I don't miss the way Dante tenses beyond her.

"Okay, now that everyone's here, let's begin," he says, avoiding eye contact with me as he dives into his speech about our plans for the release in two weeks. Our biggest show yet will take place in Charlotte, and as soon as the opening song starts, the album will be available for purchase.

The afterparty is, of course, my primary concern, but I sit quiet like a good boy until Monica and Dante get to that part of the discussion. They go through the growing list of VIPs that are planning to attend—several local bands with similar popularity to ours, a respectable number of B-list celebrities, and a few prominent singers and actors that Monica has represented in the past.

"It's nice when the rich and famous owe you favors," she says with a wink.

The group is buzzing with excitement, but I detect an undercurrent of nervous energy among us. Considering that we had been independent until now, any failures or mishaps could be justified by our collective inexperience.

But this?

A professionally backed album with this level of support behind it?

Failure would be a bad sign for our future. A misstep at this point could halt the progress that we've made. Wipe out four and a half years' worth of work.

And fuck if that's not a scary thought.

Monica attends to the final details on her checklist, and then she leaves us to rehearse. After finalizing the set list for the upcoming show, we dive into a couple hours of intense practice. By the end of our session, my fingers are throbbing, and Eric's voice is giving out.

I yell over to him as I'm putting my bass away in its case. "Hey Eric!"

"What's up?" His response comes out in a hoarse, croaky tone, almost like a bullfrog.

"You know the best home remedy for a sore throat, don't you?"

Amusement lines his face as he grins back at me. "I'm not sure I do, Theo. Please, by all means, enlighten me."

"A good old-fashioned salt rinse. Get a big, warm mouthful of salty water, and gargle deep into your throat. I mean, deep down in there. Slosh it around to guarantee it hits everything just right."

Dmitri's head whips in our direction, cheeks adorably flushed as Eric laughs. "He's on to something there," he yells over, making both of us laugh harder.

"Now, that leaves one unanswered question about this home remedy," Eric says with an eager grin.

"And what might that be?"

He shrugs as Dmitri walks over and slides his arm around his back. "After I gargle, do I spit or swallow?"

"Fuck," Dmitri grunts, gripping the back of Eric's neck and dragging him into a blistering kiss.

"Right then," I mutter, unabashedly staring as they make out like fiends. "I'll just be on my way then."

Eric waves me on as Dmitri gets him against the wall, and I heave a sigh, knowing my Eiffel Tower dreams will not be coming true today. I walk over to Dante, who is engrossed in the paperwork Monica left.

"What's gotten into them?" he asks, vaguely gesturing over to where Eric and Dmitri are basically dry humping.

"Ah, I'm afraid that was my doing." He arches a brow, still reading over his papers. "I may or may not have insinuated that the cure for Eric's sore throat was a salt gargle."

Dante chuckles and meets my eyes for what might be the first time since the night of my birthday. I toss him a mischievous grin, full of sass, and take a step closer. "Oh, no," I say, dramatically throwing my hands in the air.

There's an unmistakable suspicion in his face as he casts a critical gaze over me. "Oh no, what?"

I give the world's most pitiful excuse for a fake cough, this shrill little puff of air that ends with a pathetic squeak. Very convincing, I tell you. "My throat is sore now, too. Maybe a gargle would do me some good."

"Theo," he groans, and my grin spreads as I step closer.

"And I think…" My dramatic gasp lasts an unnaturally long time as he watches me with wary eyes. "Yes, I think my skin has an ailment, too. A salt rinse might be precisely what the doctor ordered."

"Is that so?" he asks, dry as ever. "Where exactly is this imaginary, invisible skin ailment bothering you?"

"Why… it's covering my face, Dante! Can't you see that I'm in desperate need of a salt spray on my face?"

He takes another backward step, his back hitting the wall as I grin and stride forward again, invading his personal space. "For fuck's sake, Theo," he mutters, which only further encourages me.

"Oh, what a disaster!" I shout, and his eyes dart up to the ceiling like he's searching for patience in the rafters. "It's spreading, Dante! Right down to my nether regions."

"You didn't just say nether regions." He's mumbling under his breath, still looking up.

"I'm afraid if I don't get your healing cream on my asshole, I might perish!" My body slumps dramatically into his waiting arms, positive that he will catch me. "You wouldn't leave me here to suffer, would you?"

He cocks his brow as he looks down at me, pretend-fainting in his embrace. "How did this condition spread from your mouth to your asshole that fast?"

"I'd show you, but I'm just too weak to demonstrate how flexible I am," I say with a shaking voice.

His brow furrows, nice and deep and terribly skeptical. "Are you implying you were licking your own ass? Like a dog might?"

"It was supposed to be sexy," I scoff, glaring at him, and he throws his head back and laughs so hard it jostles me. "Now, back to where we were before that rude interruption." I give a theatrical pause as I swoop back into my fainting pose, making sure my voice shakes again. "My legs are no longer strong enough to support me. Whatever shall I do?"

I gasp as he leans down and lifts me into a bridal carry, then I relax again, making myself as limp as possible in his arms. "Well, it's obviously too late for you," he says as he takes a few steps. "You lived a good life."

"Where are you taking me?" I ask, straining to look around as I grab his neck and hoist myself higher.

"Shhh…" He puts his mitt of a hand on the back of my head and shoves my face into his chest, muffling my arguments as I get a face full of shirt. "Don't fight it, Theo. It'll just make it that much harder."

"Oh, I'll make it harder, baby… wait, what are we doing?" He stops walking, and I realize he's standing over the giant garbage can in the rear of the studio, holding me above it.

He leans forward, setting the back of my thighs on the edge of the huge container. "Such a shame we couldn't do more to save him."

"But you can save me! I told you what you could… Dante!" He reaches to pry my fingers from his neck.

"He was so young and pretty, but death claims us all, eventually." He grins like a maniac as he pretends to be sad.

"You wouldn't dare!" I shout, scrambling to climb up his torso as he drops his charade and cackles, still trying to drop me into the trash. "Dante!!"

I scale his body like a monkey, my hands clutching his neck and my legs gripping his waist, refusing to let go. He can't contain his laughter as he gives up, wrapping his arms around me to keep me steady.

One of his hands lands on my ass, accidentally brushing against the plug I have inserted and causing a sudden jolt that shocks my body. My hips startle forward, thrusting against him in a move that's pure instinct. An out-of-control moan slips from my lips, right beside his ear, as my cock, already interested in the position we've found ourselves in, springs to attention.

He freezes and holds me against him, my breath in his ear and his hand exactly where I want it. I lean closer and drag a kiss over his jawline, barely more than a fleeting touch, and his lips fall open in a quiet gasp as he goes unnaturally still.

After a pause that seems to span eternity, his hand flexes. I don't move, don't even fucking breathe as his fingers tiptoe across the distance and push on the base again. Once, and then twice he pulses against it, turning my blood into liquid fire. That's all it takes for me to get hard as a rock, exhaling heavily as his breathing picks up. I drop my lips to his skin again as he pushes a third time, harder, and then a fourth.

Every muscle in my body is charged and tingling as he holds it there, and I can't stay still any longer. With a sway of my hips, I grind my aching cock against him, gasping at the jolt as the plug is pushed deeper inside me with the motion. Years of pent-up attraction threaten to spill out of me as I force myself closer, digging my heels into his back as I rock into him. My hand lands on his cheek, my fingers raking his stubble as I try to turn his face towards me.

"More," I beg in a whisper as I flex my abs again, shamelessly searching for another of his touches. "Please, give me more."

My words shatter the illusion—erase this bubble we'd found ourselves in.

Dante is as jumpy as a cornered animal, and I knew better than to speak up. He jolts back to reality with a small shudder, and I can tell I've lost him.

His hands slide to my hips, and he shakes his head, snapping out of whatever spell he was under. "I need to put you down," he says, gentle but firm. As much as I try to pretend that the rejection isn't ripping me to pieces, tears well in my eyes that I refuse to show him.

Nothing good will come of it, and I never want his pity.

His love, his attention, yes.

But never pity.

Never that.

I remain silent as he places my feet on the ground, pressing my forehead against his shoulder to conceal the flood of emotions that's overwhelming me. "Why don't you want me?" I whisper, but the only response is his silence. After a few deep breaths to get myself back under control, I turn around and storm away without a word.

"Theo," he calls after me, but I just shake my head and walk faster. My name leaves him again, more urgent this time, but I can't face him.

Not now.

Not like this.

I put more distance between us as I push the door open, blinking my eyes against the bright afternoon sun. Only when I'm securely locked in my car, driving away, do I allow the tears to escape.