Page 201 of Silver Sweet

His lips twitch. “Jesus fuck. You really can’t take an L, can you?”

“Unless it stands forlegendary. No.”

The confused wrinkles between his brows haven’t softened. My pulse suddenly quickens. “Has no one ever gotten you a gift on a random day?” I ask him.

His body stiffens, the corded muscles in his arms more prominent. “No. I can’t say anyone has.”

Uh,fuck.“Not an ex-boyfriend?”

“No.” It’s a hardno.

I open my mouth, close it, reconsidering my response as nerves and uncertainty batter me. Is this too much?No.I would give him a random ass gift again in a fucking heartbeat.

Phoenix shifts tensely upright in the seat, but his posture is already too strict. “It’s okay. Whatever you got me isn’t a big deal, man. We’re just bandmates.” He motions for the thing behind my back.

I can’t move a muscle.

It isn’t a big deal.

We’re just bandmates.

Each word is a harpoon impaling my chest. Right into the heart. “I don’t think we’re just bandmates,” I mutter out.

Phoenix narrows a scalding look at my face. “Yeah.We’re bandmates whofuck.” He juts out his hand more impatiently. “Just give it, Tom.”

“I wouldn’t have said it like that.”

“How did you want me to say it?” he challenges. “How, Tom?”

I don’t know.“We’re only sleepingwith each other, dude.”

“Okay, then we’re bandmates who only fuck each other. Good?”

No.

That doesn’t encompass what I feel for him either. I swallow hard and frown at his glare, one he pins to the airplane window and not on me. “Why are you so pissed?” I ask.

“I’m not pissed.” He rakes a hot hand through his hair. “I’malwayspissed, okay.” He looks up at me.

“No, this is different.” I spot angst in his eyes.

“Please stop,” he says like I’m torturing him. “Please.”

Does he want more? I hadn’t considered how much Phoenix would, but I’m wondering just how much he does now. Truthfully, I’ve been content with where we’re at. It’s been working for the band. Anything more could cost us energy or mental fortitude we should be putting into music and not into each other. Right?

Except, I’m holding a gift I got him out of the fucking blue.

Half my time in my head is already spent thinking about him.

And hearing we’re just “bandmates who only fuck each other” makes me want to scream, and not in a melodic way.

“You don’t do relationships,” I mutter.

“That’s not why we’re not in one,” he says firmly, but almost choked. “You don’t want a serious one with me.”

It hurts to hear the truth out loud from him. My lips part, but words catch in my swollen throat.

He rises, his legs brushing against mine, but he turns his head away from me. “I need a minute.”