Our muse wasn’t the problem yesterday, though. It was me.
My head wasn’t in the game. I think I faked it okay, but I’d been more interested in observing Gray and Justin than in the bridge Justin had reworked for a new song. Their dynamic fascinated me. It always had. Their eighteen-year age difference should have been obvious, but they fit. They seemed to bring out the best in each other. Gray calmed Justin and reminded him to slow down. And I think Justin inspired Gray…musically and emotionally.
“That didn’t sound right,” Justin griped, glancing up from his acoustic guitar.
I growled in frustration. I was a patient man, but seriously—how many times did I have to tell him the same damn thing? I pointed at his fret board. “You’re not—”
“Your placement is off, babe,” Gray intercepted calmly. “Bend your middle finger on D.”
“Like this?”
“A little more. That’s right. Now try it.”
Gray had waited patiently for Justin to pick through a portion of the song we’d been crafting to correct his mistake. Like it mattered. It didn’t. I was the one who’d be playing that song on stage. But I’d sensed that the song wasn’t the focus here. This give-and-take was a dance. It was subtle and private…like a secret language. The conversation I’d heard only hinted at a deeper one.
“Better?” Justin asked, peering over at his lover.
Gray smiled. “Perfect.”
They’d shared a brief look laced with encouragement, respect, and pure adoration. I’d felt like a creepy voyeur till Justin kicked my shin and called me out for daydreaming, effectively bringing me back to reality.
Don’t worry.
I didn’t have any crazy ideas about Sean and me. It was a purely observational exercise. Age gaps worked for certain people. Cased closed. That was never going to be Sean and me. But we could be lovers. Even if it was just for a little while. And if Parker’s guitar lessons with me helped him find common ground with his son, I might even be doing a good deed on the side.
By the time the band met up on Friday, I was pretty sure I had this thing with Sean figured out. He was a sexy diversion. That was all.
Zero was set to record our third album this summer and the accompanying tour was already in the works. Within a few months, I wouldn’t have time for a private life of any kind. There was a noticeable difference in the overall fanbase between our first and second releases. Fans were beginning to recognize us on the streets. It didn’t happen all the time. We could still pick up our own order at Starbucks without hassle, but according to Charlie, that would change when our third record came out.
“Rihanna can’t walk down a random street in Anytown, USA without being noticed. Neither can Madonna or Cher or Mariah. What do these divas have in common, boys?” Charlie demanded, pivoting on his Italian loafers in the middle of Zero’s studio next to a small crate of water bottles.
“They’re female singers,” Tegan replied, tapping his drumsticks against his knee. “We’re not women, Char. And we’re a band.”
“No shit, Sherlock. But you’re known by a single-named moniker. Zero.” He set his hands on his hips and grinned. “You know, I think this carbonated water thing could be the stepping stone to a Pepsi commercial. It’s like a baby step to superstardom. My goal is to make Zero so big that you can’t walk through the smallest airport in Kansas without inciting a riot. Think One Direction or K-Pop. Huge! This soda water is going to make that happen. Who’s ready to try it?”
“You haven’t tried it?” Justin asked dubiously.
Ky nodded. “Well, we used the green apple flavor as a mixer.”
“And made our own appletinis,” Charlie intercepted. “Not sure they were my best.”
“They were a little strong, babe.” Ky made a face and added, “I tried the watermelon too.”
Tegan busted up laughing. “You don’t have to say a word. We can tell you hated it.”
“I didn’t hate it. I just didn’t love it. But I love Char, so…” Ky kissed Charlie’s cheek and pinched his ass.
Charlie squeaked as he bent to open the crate. “Try for yourselves. They have every color in the rainbow. Zero will be on each package, and Johnny’s silhouette strumming a guitar will be on the Pride bottle. No idea what flavor that is, but I think we’ll get a say in it…if we sign the contract.”
“And we won’t sign if we hate it.” Justin twisted the cap off the bottle Charlie handed him and made a production of smelling it before taking a sip.
I chuckled at his antics, then glanced at my watch.
“What’s your hurry? You keep checkin’ the time,” Tegan observed, nudging my shoulder.
“Parker’s coming by for a guitar lesson,” I replied casually.
“Really? I thought that was a one-time deal.”