Page 30 of Crash & Burn

She pretends to be annoyed about it or says that I’m bothering her, but I’ve come to realize our friendship is growing from the foundation of giving each other a hard time and seeing who cracks first.

And, it’s usually me.

I don’t know what I was expecting when I accused Mia of checking me out that day in her kitchen, but it definitely wasn’t what she gave me. It was a risk outwardly saying somethingthatflirtatious in nature, but Mia did not back down. I can’t even remember the last time I blushed like a teenager, or smiled so stupidly wide, but she managed to make me do it.

Theo and Silas have thankfully kept their mouths shut about Mia and me, only sneaking in two or three smartass comments, and I can tell by their glances that they think something besides friendship is going on, which thereisn’t.

Nothing caneverhappen between Mia and me, and I think we both know that.

They did ask what happened to the guitar lessons, but I just brushed them off saying that we decided we didn’t have time for them. What I didn’t tell them is I’m still trying to figure out what happened to them myself.

With my drumsticks in my back pocket and a cardboard tray of coffee in one hand, I open the door to the warehouse. With it being a Friday afternoon, we’re planning on doing two or three run-throughs and then heading over to Lenny’s for a celebratory drink to kick off our first tour.

It won’t be a late night because we have to be up early tomorrow to drive the few hours to La Crosse, but Emmett, Drew, Luke, and Annie wanted to send us off.

When I walk in, Mateo is on the phone and Theo and Silas are setting up their instruments while Mia is setting up the mics. Her hair is up in a ponytail, and she’s wearing jeans and a red Cross My Heart t-shirt that she cropped, giving me a perfect view of her ass as she bends over to grab the cord on the ground.

My hands would fit perfectly in those back pockets.

I shake the thought away before I can think too much about it.

“Thanks for gracing us with your presence, Ramirez,” Theo announces, taking me out of my head, as I walk over to Mia’s table

“You’re late,” Mateo states, but I know it is only two minutes after 1 p.m.

Ignoring them both, I set Mia’s iced vanilla latte with oat milk at her table knowing she will see it when she’s done with the microphones and head over to my drum set.

We run through the setlist once, and I am feeling super confident. The setlist showcases our sound perfectly, and we created it with the intent to compliment the bands we are opening for, hoping the crowd likes what they hear from us.

There’s a lot riding on the six upcoming shows. These next three months are vital for Cross My Heart’s growth, and the hope is if we work our asses off, we will be getting ready toactuallytour with these bands by this time next year.

“Let’s take five and then clean up the ending of the third song before we run it all again,” Mateo announces before going back to his phone. He mentioned he was in contact with the tour manager for the bands we are opening for.

Mateo isn’t just our lead vocalist; he does all the administrative stuff too since we aren’t in a position to hire a band manager to take that on for us.

I stand up from the stool behind my drum set and put my drumsticks in my back pocket before heading over to Mia’s table. Earlier this week, she decided she had enough practice photos, and she now spends her time editing the pictures and updating our social media.

I’ve learned a lot about Mia in the past week, both through conversations with her and just from watching her. I’ve learned that she doesn’t like to wear shoes because, after about ten minutes of her getting to practice, she takes off her shoes and walks around in her socks. I have also learned that she’s someone who doesn’t feel uncomfortable with silence, and she likes the color pink. Her water bottle, nails, laptop case, and the anklet she wears are all pink.

She also started this new habit where she hums when she’s editing photos, and it is always the same tune. I don’t recognize the song, but I’ve never asked her about it because I don’t think she even realizes she is doing it.

The coffee I got her is now empty next to her laptop, and her eyes are focused on the screen in front of her as I approach her table. I grab the empty cup and toss it in the trash can near the table before I sneak a peek at her screen to see what she is doing.

With her background in marketing, she has been updating our social media to get our followers hyped for the upcoming shows. Right now, she is currently typing a caption for a photo she is posting of us practicing, most likely something about us prepping for our show tomorrow. As I get closer, I hear her humming that tune, and I still can’t place what song it is.

“Working hard or hardly working?” I ask as I slump down on the chair across from her.

“You just can’t get enough of me, huh?” She teases, not even looking up from her screen. “Thanks for the coffee by the way,” she adds on a more sincere note.

I give her a nod before asking, “Are you coming to Lenny’s with us after practice?”

“Probably not. I think I’m just going to head home when I finish scheduling some of these social media posts.” She is still looking at her screen rather than me, and I don’t like it. I reach across the table and slowly tilt her laptop screen down, so she has no choice but to look at me, rolling her eyes first.

“Come for a drink. You can finally meet Drew.”

“Emmett’s girlfriend?”

“Yeah, you’ll like her. And Annie will be there too.”

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