Page 82 of Driving Beats

“Well, I did. And I still wear it to work sometimes. It’s not my life the way fashion clearly is yours.”

Since there’s no arguing the point, I ask, “What have you been up to lately, besides work, of course?”

“Oh, the usual. Been binging shows on Netflix. Finally got caught up on all the Marvel movies.”

I laugh. “I’ve seen every Marvel movie there is about ten times. The guys have them playing ad nauseam.”

“Add what?”

I’m taken aback that Owen hasn’t heard this term before. Coop would’ve countered it with something like “It’s not ad nauseam, it’s ‘comforting nostalgia.’ I prefer to think of it as a warm blanket for my brain.” I raise my pierced eyebrow at my mental guitarist.

To Owen, however, I reply, “It means they keep watching the same movies on repeat.”

“Oh. Well, nothing wrong with that. They’re classics.”

I sip my coffee and focus on the game. When I win, I do a little jig—not because I’m all that elated, but because it’s expected.

Owen yanks on the end of my pixie cut. “I’ll get you next time.” He takes a couple of steps, then wraps me in one of his bear hugs. “It’s great to have you back.”

I return his hug, but it feels a bit off. Maybe because he’s not even five-foot-nine? Or somewhat pudgy around the middle? “Go slay them at work today!”

With a jaunty wave, he says he’ll meet up with us at the bar tonight and leaves me all alone in the apartment.

One I worked so hard to earn. The four of us were able to turn a legal two-bedroom into a place where everyone had their own room. Living here felt like proof I’d made it. Now that I’ve sampled what’s out there in the world, though, somehow this apartment seems… small.

I shake my head. UC must’ve gotten to me. Traveling on tour with them isn’t real life. It’s an alternative reality—a bubble—where people wait on you and you’re never in one spot longer than a few nights. Residing in hotels is not normal. I live here. I glance around at the yellowing “white” walls and threadbare sofa. At least I can call this place mine. Well, with three other people.

Enough of this. How about checking out the newest issue of Vogue? That always gets me out of a funk.

After a quick shower, I put on a pair of jeans and immediately am transported back to helping Coop purchase new ones. That’s over and done with. I’ll only see him in The Closet and onstage. Get a grip.

Locking up, I walk to the neighborhood’s only bookstore a few blocks away. In the magazine section, I pick up the most recent issue of Vogue, which features stars on the Oscars’ red carpet. Where I was. I flip through the pages, recognizing the people being photographed. There’s even a spread about the bands who were nominated for best song. My gaze lingers on UC. To be honest, it stopped at Coop and didn’t move. He wore Versace better than the hottest model. I slam the magazine shut. Then slip it into my bag.

I need to relax. I wander through the cooking, gardening, and romance sections—a girl needs some romance on the road!—and add a few additional reads to my bag, ending up in the New Age section. My fingers travel through several spines, stealing down titles about Zen and Buddhism. I stop on a book by one of Coop’s favorite authors and pull it off of the shelf. The front of the book proclaims it’s signed by the author. I flip it open, and sure enough, there’s his signature. I drop it into my basket.

After paying, I return to my room and dump my full bag onto the floor. I spend time scouring the new magazine, then read the back covers of all the books. The Zen one looks pretty interesting, even if it does touch on religion.

The front door opens. Noah yells, “Anyone home?”

“I’m in my room,” I reply.

Shortly, he stands at the threshold, arms high above on the doorframe. “Hey. I’m happy work is over.” I nod. “Is anyone else here?”

“Nope. Only us two until Alexis gets off work. Owen told me he’ll join up with us at the bar later.”

His eyebrows raise then lower. “Wanna have some fun?”

I know what he means, and it isn’t playing checkers. Do I want to have sex again with Noah? Before, I’d be down for whatever. Now, though, he doesn’t do it for me. Perhaps it’s his hair that hasn’t seen a barber for too long—maybe it’s his facial hair that’s moved from stubble to growly—or it could simply be he’s not…stop it, Nese!

“I would love to, but I’m expecting a call from work. Sorry!”

“Next time.” He pushes away from the doorway. “In that case, I’m going to take a shower so I’ll be out of the bathroom when Alexis gets here.”

“Sounds good.” Alone, again, in my bedroom, I close the door. What is wrong with me? I should’ve hooked up with him. Coop can’t be the last guy I’ve slept with—I have to break this cycle. Maybe someone at the bar will catch my attention?

A text arrives from Jenna:

Jenna: