Page 235 of Silver Sweet

Before I can protest, Phoenix yanks me into the cramped bathroom and shuts the door. He brings me into his body without hesitation. The hug is fortifying and doting and reassuring all at once. I wrap my arms tighter around him, and his hand is caring affection against my skull.

We’re bare-chested from our earlier performance. A layer of dried sweat coats our skin, and our hair isn’t even dampanymore. Amid everything, the thump of his heartbeat against mine is the best sound I’ve heard all night.

“Mon son préféré,” I whisper into his neck with an overwhelmed feeling.My favorite sound.He clasps my face, just to pull my head back and meet my eyes. He knows French. He knows choosingsonis openly romantic whilebruitis associated more with traffic noises, a disturbance. He called me hisbruit préféréplayfully, in an ironic sense.

I’m being overly passionate, and the vulnerability produces a wave of nerves. Those same nerves wash away when he frames my face and asks, “You’re okay?”

I nod a couple times, getting choked up. I try to produce a teasing smile. “You don’t want to put me on the ground too?”

He looks absolutely crushed. I just pulverized him.

“Bad joke,” I say fast.

“Really bad joke.” His voice cracks. He stares painfully at the ceiling, his eyes welling up, and then he pinches them. He’s crying.

“Phoenix.” I slide my hand against his waist. “Hey, I know you’d never put your hands on me like that,” I croak. “Not even because you promised me way back when. But because I know who you are.” My voice is still scratchy from being strangled. “Dude, if you weren’t here…”

“Don’t speak, Tom,” he says tearfully, rubbing his wet eyes with the heel of his palm. Then his hands are back on my face. His thumbs stroke my cheeks. “Don’t speak. Just listen to me.”

I nod, my chin trying to tremble.

“There is very little that would make me fall out of love with you,” he professes. “It’s going to take a lot more than several hours after an Adderall confession.”

Holy shit. I rub at my glassy eyes. “Tu m’aimes vraiment.”You really love me.

“No, I’ve really hated you this whole fucking time.” He shakes his head at me likecome on.

I laugh, a tight one as emotion swells and makes it harder to breathe. “I’ve hated you too.”

“Hmm, yeah. I could tell.” He tries to swallow the flooding sentiments too. His nose flares and eyes grow redder. “And Tom?”

“Yeah?”

“I know you want to make sweet love declarations to me, but save your voice, nepo baby. You sound like Kermit the Frog.”

“I do not?—”

“Tom,” he groans, pressing his forehead to mine. Then we’re back to holding each other and drawing out tender, sensual kisses. Time seems to go still. He stays quiet to ease me into silence, and soon, we’re shedding one another down to bare, warm flesh.

I check my throat in the mirror. The angry inflamed skin hurts to the touch, but I’ll nurse my vocal cords later. Right now, I just want to wash away the bad parts of tonight with my boyfriend.

We clean ourselves of most of it.

Once Phoenix climbs behind me in my bunk, smelling like something I’d want to be buried against, I relax and breathe. His arms tuck around my frame, and he presses another kiss to my head. “I’m proud of you for kicking those fuckers off the bus,” he whispers into my hair. “You did a good thing tonight. Think you can do another?”

Quit Adderall, he means.

“I know I can,” I assure, just as hushed. “I know I will. When the tour ends.” I tense, waiting on edge for his response.

Phoenix exhales a long breath, but his arms stay around me. Giving in.

54

PHOENIX ST. PIERRE

Ishould be able to clock four hours of sleep in the five-star hotel Tom books us in Indianapolis.

But it’s now 6 a.m., and my temples pound like I spent all night chugging Red Bull. Did not do that. I just couldn’t shut off my brain after I read a text from Birdie. Then I kept forcing myself to try to sleep—which just impeded me from sleeping.