Page 8 of The Sound Between Us

Jamie leans forward, squinting at me through the haze. “Are you seriously gonna start with the whole I’m over it act again? We’ve got a tour, mate. We’ve got fans. You know, people who still think we matter.”

“Do you think we matter?” I ask, meeting his eyes. “Or are you just too high to care?”

Dex huffs a laugh. “Jesus, Harrison. You sound like you’re about to start a podcast.”

“Maybe I should,” I say. “Call it Post-Fame: The Slow Decline.”

Jamie throws a peanut at me. “You were always the melodramatic one.”

“And you were always the one who made it about you,” I shoot back. “You know that thing you said in Paris? That Dex made you look like a kid on stage? You ever wonder how we look, watching you melt down every other city?”

Dex raises a brow, but says nothing. Jamie stiffens.

“That’s rich, coming from the guy who hasn’t written a single lyric in over a year,” Jamie snaps.

“I’ve written plenty,” I reply. “Just nothing I want you to hear.”

Dex whistles. “Alright, boys. Enough with the dick-measuring. Someone get high or get naked or shut the fuck up.”

The tension breaks, but only barely.

I grab my hoodie, my cap.

“Where you going?” Dex calls.

“Anywhere.”

For once, that’s the truth.

Dex hurls something at the door as I close it behind me.