Page 11 of Just Wait

I keep my noise-blocking earplugs in, humming under my breath while I try to focus enough to get out the verse I’m trying to work on.

It takes ages, but I finally fall into the zone. I’m so unaware of what’s happening around me that I jolt when Theo tosses his arm around my shoulder, kissing my temple before plucking out my earplug.

“We’re done,” he says close to my ear. “You plan to come get something to eat with us, or do you want to stick around?”

I try not to let it annoy me, but I huff.

I knew he wasn’t really listening when I brought it up yesterday.

“I’m going to see what I can do in the time before Liminal comes in. Why don’t you stay with me, and we can eat together after?”

“I’m starving, Lu,” Theo says, kissing my cheek. “The guys from Liminal partied just as late as we did. There’s no chance they’re making it in to practice early.”

Before I can protest, he leans around my chair, pecking an awkward kiss on my lips.

Then…

He’s gone, sauntering out with his bandmates.

The door closes with a metal, raking thump while I continue to stare, blinking incredulously.

Wow.

I don’t love feeling abandoned, but it’s even worse to feel like I was straight-up dismissed.

It’s not like I asked him to sit with me while I went to get my nails done.

This is for him.

I guess it’s technically for us, but it’s starting to seem less and less like that’s the case.

A slow clapping makes me jolt as I place the guitar back on the rack.

The guitar techs and the rest of the team should be in to swap out the instruments anytime. That’s who must have been watching me practice.

Spinning around, my jaw falls.

It’s not part of the crew.

It’s Malcolm, Liminal’s rhythm guitarist.

Last night, he was in his wolf mask. His is the most intricate, with its opening and closing hinged jaw full of teeth.

It’s insane to see it move as he sings.

It’s matte black with an almost pearlescent dark purple and silver overlay lining the bones and teeth.

Creepy and beautiful all in one.

It must have been insanely hard to create.

Shops carry replicas, but none of them come even close to the level of craftsmanship used to create his mask.

He also has a version that covers only the top half of his face. It still has the bones of the jaw and sharp teeth, but it frames the lower half of his face without blocking his mouth from view. I’ve never seen him perform in that one live, though I have seen pictures of it.

The man in question is fresh-faced today as he stares at me intently, quirking a brown brow.

I blink repeatedly, trying to force my brain to work.