“Hi,” she said, watching him throttle the bottle while screwing the cap off.
“Fucking foldback,” he said and pitched the cap against the wall, yanking his in-ear monitor out by the cord. “We shouldn’t be having that problem.”
“Fixable. Not the end of the world,” she said.
“You know how the band got its name?”
Jay’s expression was grim, his voice had a snap to it. She felt her smile become crooked, sliding towards her pierced ear. He’d said he might get tense. His expression said thunderstorm.
“It’s a comment on the state of, you know, the world,” she said.
“No,” he barked. “It’s how I felt when I lost you, that the world had ended.”
“Oh.” That shock came with a stab of pain in her chest that made her press her hand there.
Jay put the bottle down on the table with such force, the Coke fizzed. “So maybe don’t joke about my band’s fucking name.”
He’d named his band after the way he’d felt when they broke up. It took her breath away. If she kissed him now, would that help or make things worse?
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. I—just—we shouldn’t be having these kinds of issues today. It’s not on you.”
“It’ll work out, Jay.” They would work out. They had to. That was a truth carved on her soul.
His jaw was tight, his shoulders up, his eyebrows threatening to crash over the bridge of his nose. “I don’t need you to blow hot air at me.”
He needed a release and she could reset things for him. “Come with me.”
“I don’t have time to—”
She took his hand, unfurled the fist he’d made and threaded their fingers together. “Do you trust me?”
He groaned but allowed her to tow him through the back-of-house area to one of the equipment storerooms. It had a door she could lock.
“What are doing, Evie?” he said at the sound of the click-clack.
“Take your pants off. I’m going to blow hot air on you.”
He rubbed his face. “Jesus, Evie, no.”
She stood with her back to the door. Jay bumped into a ladder. “You need something,” she said.
“I need my fucking crew to do their jobs,” he said, reaching for her.
She stepped in close and brushed her hand over his brow. “They will. Now let me do mine.”
This wasn’t a time to be soft and she didn’t want to kiss him for the first time when he was like this. He didn’t stop her opening his pants, but he said, “Not your mouth.” Hand job it was then.
“You want this?” She needed to check. She might want to undo him more than he wanted the release.
His forehead touched down on hers when she wrapped her fingers around him and felt him harden. “This is—oh fuck, yes, Evie.”
He had one hand on her hip and the other tangled in her hair. His responses at her touch was power, and all the fame she needed.
“I want your lips on mine,” he said.
“Tell me how badly.”
His hand tightened in her hair. “Fifty-thousand screaming fans screaming my name, badly.”