He smells awfully good for being such a Rumpleforeskin.
But he is a Rumpleforeskin, so don’t forget it.
As soon as we got to Santi’s house, Haven and I locked ourselves inside the room I’d stolen from him. Honestly, his bed must have been made by baby angels. I’d never slept so well. I was going to have a hard time giving it up to sleep on a bus and cheap European hotel beds.
“So…” Haven waggled her eyebrows like a maniac.
“So, that’s Santiago. I’m tryin’ real hard to keep up my hating game. Sometimes he makes it easy, but other times…”
“Can people change?” she asked.
“Of course. I’m not discounting a giant turnaround. The thing is, he hasn’t once apologized for the way he treated me back then. And he made it clear in the beginning my presence was unwanted.”
“That’s too bad.” She sighed, heavy and exhausted. “At least he’s being decent now, since, you know, you’re going to be trapped with him for the next two months.”
“Maybe longer, if they keep me on after the tour.”
She slapped her hands over her eyes and flopped back on my bed, her legs dangling over the side. “Don’t remind me. I swear, Theo’s in mourning. A giant mutant rat ran right in front of him and he barely batted it with his paw. Mama had to get a broom and deal with that guy all by herself.”
I flopped down next to her. “First, I hope the super called an exterminator. Normally the rats stay in the walls where they belong.”
“This one wasbold.”
“Gross. And second, I miss everything about New York, except the rats and Low Bar. You are at the top of my list. Even if they keep me on as drummer, I don’t see why I can’t live in New York between gigs.”
Baltimore was a nice city, but it held no appeal for me. New York had dug into my heart, taking up permanent residence. It’s where I saw myself once this madness with Unrequited ended. With Haven, Liam, and Theo, getting pizza at two in the morning, dodging cat-size rodents, sunbathing on our tar-painted roof, seeing Broadway shows for free from the wings thanks to Haven’s hookups. Nothing compared to it. I doubted anything would.
Maybe playing on stage with Unrequited. Yeah, that would most likely do it.
“If you’re going to be all rich and famous now, Theo would like to say he was born to live on Park Ave.”
“No thanks. Theo can live like a bohemian king in Chelsea.”
There was a tap on the door, followed by Santi asking if we wanted a drink. Haven yelled for him to come in. The door creaked open, and he entered, carrying three bottles of beer. He eyed us in bed with a half-smile.
“Nap time?”
“No.” I accepted the icy cold bottle, and he popped the top with the opener he carried in his pocket. “I just love your bed.”
He smirked, rocking back on his heels. “Me too. I miss it.”
Haven sat up and took the offered beer, scooting so her back was against the headboard. She patted the space between us. “Climb on in. We were just talking about how much we love New York.”
He hesitated, so I sat up and moved to the other side, leaving him plenty of room. Eventually, he took the bottom corner, and it crossed my mind I was officially in bed with Santiago Garza. Why that made my stomach do a funny kind of flip, I couldn’t say...or wouldn’t say. Eighteen-year-old me would judge current me so hard for even giving this man the time of day, much less getting fluttery about him again.
“You like New York better than L.A.?” He took a sip of his beer, forehead wrinkled in question.
Haven and I looked at each other, conferring in silence.
L.A. had palm trees and sunshine.
But smog and earthquakes and fear of sinking into the ocean.
Drew Rossi is in L.A.
Scott Porter is in New York.
Bodegas.