Page 94 of Beneath Cherry Blossom Memories

“Me too,” Jorge mumbles.

“What?”

“What?” he parrots.

“You what.”

“Huh?”

I scooch away from him, prop up on my elbow, and eyeball him. “You said me too. Why?”

“I did not.”

“You so did.”

He scoffs, rolling on his back and waving his hands around. “You know I get all emotional whenever you do. It was a sympathy miss.”

“See!” I blurt, slapping his arm. “You did say it!”

“I didn’t,” he hisses. “And even if Idid, what’s the problem? Can’t a man express his feelings?”

I gape at my best friend as he gets off the bed, his full head of curls flopping wildly from the movement. He stands and pulls a bag of Pop Rocks from his pants. “Where the hell did you get those in Italy?”

“I brought a stash,obviously,” he drawls and dumps some on his tongue. When they sizzle and pop, he grins like an idiot.

“Weirdo,” I laugh and text Oliver again.

Just let me know what I need to do. I’ll do it.

Miss you, bro. Miss you too much.

So far, I’ve managed to avoid Leon like theplague.

Shit has been awkward whenever we’re all backstage, but most of these venues have rooms. It's not just some crusty lounge where we all have to stare at each other. So even when I see him in passing, it’s too brief to have any real interaction. But tonight, I don’t have such luck. No, that fucker is watching me like a hawk while we do sound check. It’s creepy and ridiculous.

He’s sizing me up, I realize.

Eli did confess to me on New Year’s Eve that he hadn’t ever heard from Leon after dumping him that night in the hospital. I just assumed the guy took it to the chest and moved on. After all, they were supposed to be like a casual relationship. Or so I thought. I fumble my footing, screwing up the whole rhythm, and Jorge growls into the microphone. Not the normal kind, either.

Spinning on his heel to shoot me a look that sayswhat the fuck, I dip my chin in Leon’s direction. Jorge’s eyes find him immediately. He throws his curls out of his face. They’re too long. We all keep telling him to cut the shit, but he won’t do it. He says he’s going to grow his hair down to his knees. Kelly kills her keyboard a moment later, and I watch in slow motion as my best friend in the world storms over to Leon—a man on a mission…or a warpath.

“Fuck,” I grunt, getting up from behind my kit.

“Oh shit,” Devon says, plopping his bass down on the ground.

“What?” Michael asks, clueless for a beat until he squeaks in surprise. “That’s not good.”

“What’s your fucking problem, man?” Jorge growls from the side of the stage, all up in Leon’s face.

I jog the rest of the way, pulling on his arm, not wanting a fight to break out. “You’ve been staring Phoenix down. Why?” Jorge demands, fists clenching.

Leon folds his arms. “Been wanting to talk to you,” he says, ignoring Jorge.

“I’m all ears,” I grind out, squeezing Jorge’s bicep and hoping he backs off.

It’s difficult to put into words the way I feel right now. Part of me wants to let Jorge go, let him fuck this guy up. Jorge can be scrappy when he wants. He’d often get into brawls as a kid. Seeing the person who touched and kissed and fucked the love of your life is a special kind of twisted. And especially knowing that the guy had a hand in providing Eli with the drugs that put him in the goddamn hospital.

“I’m not looking to fight,” Leon says quickly, looking down at Jorge’s fists.

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