I take the steps leading down to him, his smile lighting up more the closer I get. Once I reach him, the audience loses their fucking minds. I’ll never get used to the feeling of this, the love and adoration that comes off a crowd when you put on a hell of a show.
I give a small wave to the the audience as Rhyit hands the bottle to me. I take it out of his hand, our fingers brushing sends an electrical jolt through me, and I have to fight the blush I can feel coming. I tip the bottle up to my lips and take a drink, the whiskey’s smoothness runs down my throat, and I shudder from the taste. Rhyit laughs into the mic at the look on my face and takes the bottle back from me.
“Don’t worry, babe, you get used to it. Better?” He asks, cocking his head to the side in the cutest way. I might as well have cartoon heart eyes right now with the way I’m looking at him. Dammit. Pull it together. I clear my throat, the after taste of the whiskey lingers on my tongue as I smile and say a quick thank you before turning to return to my kit.
“Alright, now that Pistol’s ready, are you guys ready?” He asks, and they scream a collective yes. I take my place back behind the drums and count us in to the song.
***
“Hey Bristol, can I talk to you for a second?” Rhyit asks from his seat at the small table. The notepad sits in front of him, but it looks more like a painting than an actual song with all the ink on the paper. I set my bag on the bunk and walk the few steps to the table.
“What’s up?” I ask, wondering what he could possibly need with me.
“I can’t get the thing you said to Alex at the funeral out of my head.” He sighs, sitting back against the cushion of the bench seat.
I replay the conversation in my head, the apology, the miscommunication, then the last thing I said to Alex when he was alive. The guilt I carry is a heavy burden, but it’s mine, I can’t share that with anyone.
“What about it?” I ask, trying to keep my voice as neutral as possible. I don’t want to give anything away.
“It just doesn’t make sense, you said you didn’t mean it, what didn’t you mean?” He asks, leaning forward to place his arms on the table. His shoulder draw up to his ears as he levels me with a stare.
“I didn’t mean to leave him.” I lie. The lie tastes like ash on my tongue, bitter and dry.
Rhyit purses his lips like he doesn’t believe me and raises an eyebrow. I need to steer this conversation away from this topic right now.
“Why didn’t you tell the guys why I left? The truth I mean.” I ask, and now it’s his turn to look uncomfortable. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and holds my eyes.
“I didn’t want them to know.” He replies honestly. “It was easier to just let them think you didn’t want to do this anymore with us.”
“Easier for who?” I question, crossing my arms across my chest.
“Me.” He answers, looking downcast. “It was easier for me.”
I shake my head in incredulity, “I can’t believe you let them believe for years that I walked away because I didn’t want to be a part of this band anymore.”
“You could have told them yourself.” He spits, venom lacing his tone. Typical Rhyit, never taking responsibility for anything.
“I could have.” I nod my head. “I just thought you’d be man enough to tell them yourself, but I see now that a tiger never loses his stripes, once a coward always a coward.”
In a split second, he’s on me, the small table askew from his quick movement. His palm holds my neck as he pushes my body back against the wall with his. The heat from his palm radiates against my windpipe, and if I wasn’t so angry at him, I’d be seriously turned on. With my back against the wall, he molds his body to the front of mine, his eyes hold fire as he breathes heavily through his nose.
“Call me a coward again, I dare you.” He snarls, his jaw locked, and the vein in the side of his neck throbs. And apparently, I have no self preservation left…
“Coward.” I croak, the force of his hand on my throat muffling my voice. His eyes widen as the word resonates.
“Fuck you, Bristol.” He spits. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“No,” I inhale through my nose, “fuck you, Rhyit.” We hold our glares for a second, then two, then three.
“The only coward out of the two of us is you. You got your feelings hurt and tucked your tail and ran to the pussy brigade.” He finally remarks, his face an inch from mine. He wanted that shot to sink my battleship, but it was a miss.
“Better the pussy brigade than a pussy like you.” I whisper, my throat burning from the pressure. His eyes narrow as anger radiates off of him. I glare back at him, and his body leans harder against mine, pushing me further against the wall of the bus.
“A pussy like me, huh?” He breathes against my face.
“You’re an egotistical, jealous, selfish, pr-“ his mouth attacks mine before I get the rest of my insults out. I kiss him back with so much anger that I wouldn’t be surprised if one of us lost a tooth or a piece of our tongues. I pull his bottom lip into my mouth and bite hard before using the tip of my tongue to soothe the pain. That’s the best and worst part of Rhyit and I, we’re toxic to a fault, if I stabbed him right now, I’d be the one bandaging up the wound. It’s fucked up, but it’s us.
Our lips fight for dominance, and I’m not sure who’s air I’m breathing mine or his, but it doesn’t matter as anger mixes with pleasure.