Resist (Sphere of Irony 3)
Okay, maybe it doesn’t completely fade. The man hates my guts. Good thing he doesn’t have to like me, he only has to tolerate me. The question is, can I tolerate him when every cell in my body is urging me to do things I thought were long buried?
Chapter 3
Gavin
“Hawke, can you come with me?” I motion for my best friend to slip out of the crowded room where fans are getting autographs signed and photos taken. The stench of the groupies’ perfume combined with the loud squealing is giving me a headache.
He nods, following me to the edge of the room. When Adam cracks a joke and the entire place erupts in laughter, we slide out unnoticed.
“Count on Reynolds to pull the perfect cover,” I reveal to Hawke.
“You asked him to do that?” He looks at me with one pierced eyebrow lifted in amusement.
“What do you think?” I shove Hawke into an empty dressing room, slamming the door behind us. “It was the only way to get out of there.”
“Christ, Gav. What’s going on with you?” Hawke stares at me with a confused expression, his eyes narrowed behind the black-frame glasses he wears even though he has perfect eyesight.
I give him an incredulous look.
“Okay,” he concedes, holding his hands up. “What’s going on besides the stalker thing? You’re acting extra weird tonight.”
I jam my hand in my pocket and pull out the stone, gripping it so tight I’ll probably have a heart-shaped indentation in my palm.
“It’s nothing specific,” I grumble. Sighing, I run my free hand through my hair. “The crowd, the tiny room, the shrieking women. Hell, I’m probably just frustrated by my new cock-blocking shadow.”
Hawke barks out a laugh. “Who cares about him? He’s the help. You want to have someone over then have someone over. That’s his problem if he has to see or hear something he doesn’t like.”
I want to laugh, but the fact that I’d rather have ‘the help’ in my bed isn’t something I want to share with Hawke. And we’ve shared a lot.
He jerks his chin towards the hand with the stone. “You still carry that thing?”
“Only when I’m freaking out,” I reply. “It…helps somehow. I don’t know. It’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid.” Hawke puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “I’ve been there, Gav. Or have you forgotten?”
I shake my head. Of course I haven’t forgotten. How could I? I think about it all the time. The day I got the heart-shaped talisman was one of the most important days of my life. It’s the day I met my best friend.
I watch the new kid drum with his fingers on the tabletop. He has his eyes closed, thumping out a hypnotizing rhythm. He’s been here three days and I haven’t heard him say a single word. All he ever does is pound his heart out on any surface he can find.
He’s interesting looking. Shorter than my six feet by several inches, he has wild, nearly black hair and the most unique eyes I’ve ever seen. His right eye is shockingly blue, like the color of the ocean, but his left eye is a bright golden-brown.
Gathering up what little courage I have, I wander over and take the seat across from him. Harold, his name is Harold.
“Hi. I’m Gavin.”
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nbsp; Harold’s fingers freeze and his eyes pop open in surprise. It takes about a half a second for his expression to shutter up tight.
“Sorry. I was enjoying your drumming.” I shrug. “I’m a musician too. Guitar. You’re lucky. These assholes won’t let me have my guitar in here. You can drum anywhere.”
Harold’s mouth twitches in amusement so I continue.
“I like to play my guitar on the beach. That’s my favorite place in the world. I surf a lot too. I can do tricks and everything. People always tell me I look like a surfer.”
His eyes flick to my butch haircut and his mouth quirks up again.
I laugh, rubbing the velvety fuzz on my head. “Yeah, I know. My dad shaved off all of my hair. I used to look like a real surfer. Blonde and tan and all that.”