Page 133 of Silver Sweet

“And every day you’re making me regret telling you about it.”

“You can’t honestly think I’m supposed to believe you two haven’t gone all the way by now.”

“We’re taking things slow.”

“Slow?You?” He makes a face and swallows a deeper swig of beer.

I rake a harsher hand through my hair. “I didn’t call you to talk about Tom.Thatsong. You really think I’m going to be hearing it everywhere?”

Birdie’s expression sobers, and he licks residual beer off his bottom lip. “Maybe. But you do know Chase is writing music for Madelyne Kip now? Her singles constantly go multi-platinum. So no, you’re not going to be able to evade his songs, man.”

I let out an annoyed breath. “Great.” I seriously don’t even want to talk about this anymore. It just keeps getting worse. “How’s the tour going?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

He shrugs. “Vibes are off. It’s weird not having you here.”

“Yeah, it’s weird for me too.” I shift my weight.

“You should start training for your tour. I puked between ‘Tragic Hold’ and ‘Demolition’ our first night.”

I shake my head. “Riot hasn’t said when our tour will start or even how long it will be. I think they’re waiting to see how the single performs.”

Birdie gives me a look. “As soon as the album is in the can, Riot will be fast-tracking everything. There’s no way they’re not going to put you on the road as soon as possible. Believe me. I’m always right about these things.”

He’s only heard “Nuclear Winter.” I sent him a demo because I wanted his thoughts on it. He texted me five minutes later.

BIRDIE

If you ever think about coming back to Nothing Personal, I will kill you myself.

“That’sifwe finish the album. We’re still working on the last few songs, and these might actually take a while. Tom is a perfectionist.”

Birdie scrunches his face. “He’s worse than you?”

“Oh yeah.” I laugh. “I’ve actually learned to let go a little bit working with him.”

“Huh.” Birdie chews his lip and glances over his shoulder. I hear some muffled voices behind him, and he nods to someone off-screen. When he looks back to me, he says, “Steffi wants to grab midnight pancakes.”

Nostalgia weighs heavy on my chest. “Vibes are off?” I raise my brows. “Show must have been good if she’s getting pancakes.” It’s been her celebratory thing aftergoodperformances.

“It’s off for me,” Birdie clarifies and takes a deeper swig of beer.

“What are you doing on your free day tomorrow?” I ask. Nothing Personal tours five days on and two days off. I’m assuming our schedule for The Carraways will be the same.

He shrugs and skims his tongue over his front teeth.

I know that look.

I know the silence.

“Bird—”

“It’s just a gig at the Opera. Laverdière is conducting, and Papi and him are good friends. I can’t really bail while Papi is sitting in box seats.”

Shit.

“Which opera?”

“Tristan und Isolde.”