Rhythm, Chord & Malykhin (22 page)

"
F
labby
, I'd love a massage," Mason blatantly suggested, bumping his shoulder against mine.

I bumped his back. We were sitting in our new bus: a fancy double decker that made our U.S. bus seem tiny. The first floor had the kitchen and living space, while the upstairs had the bunk area. At that moment, Mase and I were sitting on one of the couches eating fish and chips that my brother had scrounged up somewhere before the show ended.

It had been a great first day. The first two legs of the Rhythm & Chord tour had been amazing, taking us all over the U.S. and Australia, but London had been beyond perfect. The crowd was different. The energy was different. And I was enjoying the hell out of the fans with their accents.

"Mason," I bit into a fry. "I'd love to not have a period, but we don't always get what we want."

He barked out a laugh, dipping his fish into my vinegar. "Well, I'd love it if you didn't have a period either, you damn psychopath." Mason winked at me before pulling on the end of my ponytail.

I snorted. "I'd love it if you took a shower."

"I did!" he gasped, knowing he was full of shit.

"Yesterday," I laughed.

Mase just smiled this sideways, teasing grin as he finished off his food. He stole a small piece of fish from my plate, and then tried to distract me from his thieving ways by throwing an arm over my shoulder and leaning into my side. "So, Flabby, are you and that kid finally together?"

"What kid?" I asked him in a low, secretive voice.

"Sacha," he whispered back.

We were pretty much alone on the first floor with the exception of Miles and Julian who were on the other end of the bus. Everyone else was on the second floor doing God knows what. There really wasn't a point in him trying to be secretive, but I thought it was amusing anyway. The bastard tried to be quiet at the wrong times.

"He’s older than you are,” I noted before adding, “and I don't know, why?"

His dark blue eyes narrowed. "Because I need to know whether to tell him what’ll happen if he does anything stupid," he said matter-of-factly.

I had to tuck my lips in to keep from smiling at his form of a threat. "Really?"

Mason nodded, tightening his hold around me. "Flabby, you know I don't have any sisters—"

"Thank God," I let out one tiny snort, imagining a female Mason.

He sniffed. "But if we aren't getting married—"

I snorted.

"Then I need to make sure some douchebag isn't going to break your heart," he said before wincing. "Again."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at his addition. "Thanks for the reminder, asswipe."

Mason simply smiled and shrugged. "I got him back for you, don't you worry there." The reminder of what had gone down in San Antonio just made me grin. They had been so quiet about what exactly happened that required Brandon to get three new tires, that I still had no clue. Why he hadn't gone for all four was beyond me, but knowing Mason, there was a reason.

That didn't mean it was necessarily a good reason, but whatever.

“Did you tell him about Laverne and Shirley already?”

Yeah, I had to pinch the bridge of my nose after that question. “You mean Lucy and Ethel,” I clarified. “No, I haven’t told him. I don’t know how.”

“Don’t ask me, Flabs. I say surprise the shit out of him.” He did his best
Striptease
reenactment by pretending to rip his shirt wide. “What is he going to do? Barf? Say
oh no?
Pssh. No way.”

"Oh, Mase," I smiled at him, "what would I do without you?"

He shrugged, all loose muscles and languid smiles. "Dream about me."

"Ha!" I leaned toward him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "In my nightmares."

Mason snickered and squeezed me one more time before dropping his arm with a sigh. "Speaking of nightmares, your brother and your honey bun are coming over; I think we made him jealous."

I rolled my eyes and got up to throw away both of our plates. Sure enough, Eliza and Sacha were right behind me in no time. But my gray-eyed friend, who had told the sold-out audience that night how much he liked brunettes, didn't seem flustered at all. The last thing I'd want to deal with was someone jealous over the likes of Mason. My Mason, who was like a hot adopted brother that escaped from a mental facility.

Once the other two joined us, we hung out for a couple of hours playing Spoons while they told me places we should try to go while the tour was in England. I wasn't really tired, but I went to bed at the same time as Eliza anyway, leaving Mason and Sacha in the living area watching television.

At some point once I’d dozed off, I woke up sensing pressure on my hand before I saw light coming through a crack in my curtains. Squinting, my eyes adjusted enough for me to be able to see it was Sacha touching me. His bunk was located directly above mine once more.

“You okay?” I whispered.

Those long fingers I admired on a regular basis stroked my jaw. “Yeah. I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.” He didn’t give me a chance to ask what his intention had been. He ducked his head into my bunk, kissed my cheek, squeezed my shoulder and shut the curtain.

Yeah, I couldn’t go back to sleep after that. It wasn’t until at least ten minutes later that I started wondering why I hadn’t invited him to lay with me.

T
he next night
, after an awesome show in Glasgow, I was already in bed when the curtain got pulled back. I knew who the intruder was before my eyes finished adjusting.

"I can't sleep," Sassy Pants whispered.

I yawned, thought for a second about how I could possibly answer, and then waved him in. He thought about it for as long as I did: one single second. There wasn't too much room in my tiny little bed but I didn't care, and apparently, when he climbed in immediately afterward, he didn't care either. It wasn’t the first time he’d slept next to me so whatever. The idea that this was moving fast, when in the past I’d waited more than four months before sharing a bed with my ex, didn’t occur to me. This was Sacha. My friend and more, and nothing felt like this—us—did.

I had to shuffle until my back was against the wall behind me while he wiggled in, closing the curtain behind him.

"Sing me a lullaby." He slid his arm around me effortlessly and pulled me to him, lining us up so we were face to face.

My laugh was weak and sleepy as I kissed his soapy-smelling, clean cheek. "Rock a bye, baby," I started. "Okay, goodnight."

Sacha laughed quietly into my skin, his hand stroking my lower back as he pressed his chest to mine. I could feel him tilting his head down to kiss the corner of my mouth. "Goodnight," he said, pressing those warm, warm lips to my sleepy ones.

How would he expect me to not reciprocate when that fantastic, full mouth touched mine?

Closed mouth, unhurried kisses piled on top of one another. Moments turned into minutes and soft pecks turned into softer, open-mouth kisses that had my heart racing. Sacha pulled back to let out a small breath, tucking me into him even more. His body was warm and firm; it took me all of thirty seconds to fall asleep after he kissed me one last time.

M
ason's question
haunted me for days.

What were Sacha and I?

We spent most of our time together. Okay, that was a fat, stinky lie. We spent all of our time together when it was possible. Between interviews, soundchecks, and my brother taking me places, we didn't get to spend all day joined at the hip but that was fine. When it was possible, it happened.

During shows, he'd sneak to the merch area with his hoodie disguising him and talk to me. I'd take my break strategically before he went on to wish him good luck. During shows, he usually said something directed toward me, like mentioning his attraction to brunettes. Then each night, he’d climb into my bunk and spend the night with me after we muffled our laughs over whatever we found funny in that moment.

It was a blinding kind of thing, this unbelievable friendship—this love—I had with and for him. It was mine and it made me happy, and I reveled in it.

But as much as his words and his kisses enveloped me, I still wondered. Calling us friends with benefits seemed so cheap, so unimportant. I knew he cared for me as more than just a friend. I could feel it in my bones.

A
little over
a week into the Europe tour, it seemed like someone upstairs in the white kingdom of harps and wings, decided that they wanted to help me out with this state of confusion that had taken over.

A friend of Julian’s—why it was always Julian’s friends that stirred things up was beyond me—decided he liked his American meat.

That American meat being me.

All night, the guy had been flirting with me. That lilting English accent whispered to me how cute he thought I was when he checked out Ghost Orchid merch. It wasn't like I was going after his compliments or paying the guy any attention because I wasn’t. When he first started, I just told him, “I’m dating someone.” Simple enough, right? It didn’t stop him, though.

He just kept coming back, and I found myself edging toward Carter and Gordo’s company every time he made an appearance.

It was after the show when we were outside waiting to finish loading up, that I walked over to a group standing around. Sacha was standing in the loose circle with Julian and the little flirt from earlier. As soon as I saddled up a comfortable distance away from Sacha’s side, he shot me a wide grin and took two steps over, throwing his arm over my shoulder. His chin was tipped down as he said, "Hi, Princess."

I slipped my arm around his waist and smiled. It wasn’t like we were trying to hide the affection between us; he was free with his hugs and attention and so was I. But I wasn’t the kind of girl who constantly needed someone holding my hand to feel special. Then again, that didn’t say much because he could have stuck his finger in my ear and I would have thought it was cute. "Hi."

One of Julian’s other friends visiting that day cleared his throat, making Sacha rearrange us back in the direction of the rest of the group. He hauled me in closer and gestured in my direction with his head. "Guys, this is my Gaby. Princess, this is—"

Time stopped.

I couldn't remember anything after he said my name.

My Gaby.

My Gaby.

Not everyone's Gaby. Not Flabby. Not Eli’s sister. Not just plain old Gaby.

Sacha's Gaby.

The only thing I managed to catch was The Flirt raising an eyebrow because I was in a damn dream world.

When Sacha slipped into my bunk later on, in what had become our routine, I raised an eyebrow. "I'm your Gaby?" I asked him first thing in a whisper as soon as we were settled under my sheets.

My friend grinned that earth-shattering smile that made my ovaries scream. "Yeah."

"Huh," I huffed.

Sacha dipped his mouth to mine, wrapping a flexed arm around me to pull us chest to chest. "You didn't know that you're my girl?" He pressed a long, lingering kiss on my lips.

I kissed him back, trying to leave a similar impression on him. "I didn't get the memo."

"You didn't?" he asked in a teasing voice. When I shook my head, he pressed his lips to the corner of my mouth. "You are."

"I am?"

He nodded. "Yup."

"So you're my Sassy?" I asked against his neck, brushing my mouth over the smooth skin right by his shoulder.

Sacha groaned when I kissed him there. "All yours," he clarified in a husky voice.

“Good.”

“I think so.”

I grinned at him and he grinned right back.

His index finger inched up to trace the shell of my ear. “I heard Sam was flirting with you all night.”

My eyes were too busy being closed in response to his touch, to visibly take in whatever expression was on his face. “Was that Julian’s friend?” I asked in a low, almost dreamy voice as he planted a kiss alongside my hairline.

“Mhmm,” he replied, placing his lips in the same spot again.

“Then yes, he was.” It took way more self-control than it should have to pry an eyelid open and peek.

His reply was a grumble that reached all the way to my toes. “Too bad for him.”

It was just a flash flood of lips and more lips, hands on ribs and under T-shirts. He slanted his mouth over mine, brushing his tongue against me, over and over again. The hand I had on his hip, started to crawl under his T-shirt, smoothing over his hot skin and lean muscles.

Sacha’s hand kneaded my hip before inching its way up my shirt, his fingertips brushing the skin of my stomach. It was such an innocent gesture but it made me freeze. It reminded me of what I’d been putting off telling him.

Wonderful Sacha must have sensed the change in tension coursing through me because he stopped and pulled away just slightly. “Too much?”

God bless him. I leaned up enough so that I could kiss his collarbone, my heart racing because of our kisses but mainly because I was worried about telling him the truth. Realistically, I knew that chances were, he wouldn’t recoil in disgust or yell or anything dumb like that, but… the idea of sharing this small secret was still intimidating and a little scary. What if he did think it was weird? I was weird?

“I have something I need to tell you,” I blurted out before I could change my mind.

He smiled gently. “Okay.”

Okay? Well, all right. His fingertips brushed against the same bare spot on my stomach they’d been in when I’d freaked out. “I have breast implants.” And, I went for it. Just went right on in without knocking, damn it.

Not a single word or sound came out of him for possibly five seconds. Then all of a sudden he hummed and kissed me. “Okay.”

Another okay? That’s it? “They were asymmetrical. I had surgery,” I explained even though he hadn’t asked but I wanted him to know, to understand. Not that it mattered but…

That had him pulling back all of two inches to look me right in the eye. “That sucks, Princess.”

Uhh… Was I feeling let down that he wasn’t reacting differently? “That’s all you have to say?” I asked.