Page 81 of Pretty Obsessed

“I can’t be good at everything.” He took off the guitar, handing it off and taking the next. He put a capo between his teeth and began the process all over again.

River walked off to check his kit as they set it up, leaving me to my own devices. I took a lap around the stage, not fully being able to imagine it filled with as many people as it could hold. I did live readings and Comic-Con where my readers would sit and listen to my words, or ask questions. The idea of thousands of people screaming my words back at me was unimaginable and a little daunting.

Maybe the way Iris was made sense. I think I’d be burned out on it, too. We weren’t that different. We both spent hours and hours on art before putting it out to the masses for judgment. Reviews, harsh critics, and as many obsessed with our work as hated it. If music was anything like words, it was like giving away pieces of his soul to the public to be ripped apart.

Sometimes the gaping wounds in my chest overcame everything else. I don’t know if I’d be able to face a crowd and put those pieces of myself out day after day. Not like they did.

“They made it okay.” River came over and took a seat on the edge of the stage.

I sat next to him. “Feel better?”

“Much. Maybe it’s nerves. I don’t know.” He laid his head in my lap, such a simple thing, and yet it sent me into chest clenches again.

I had to figure out a way to reconcile these feelings and the reality of our situation.

"No? You’ve never played anywhere over here?" I pushed my fingers into his hair.

I marveled at the magnitude of the arena and the tens of thousands of people who'd be here screaming tonight.

"Nope, first time," Iris said, cocking his head as he played a few cords.

"And all the shows are sold out." River yawned into my stomach.

It seemed insane to think we hadn’t known each other that long and he was power napping in my lap. "You're like a cat."

"I love a good nap and we were up late last night." He closed his eyes, wrapping an arm around my waist.

"Late for you." Until nearly three in the morning.

The rest of the guys had flown in a day ago, and since they were trying to get used to the time change, they'd insisted on a band night out. I'd told River to go without me, but he'd insisted I join them. The other guys had a collection of their entourage as well and no one gave me a second glance, even with as close as River stayed to me all night. I had a hard time processing the days we've been here.

It had turned into a tour of all the high-profile places in Japan. All the places I’d never dreamed of seeing. Behind the ropes and in all the exclusive spots with no waiting. Such a different lifestyle than I was used to. He couldn't go anywhere without a bodyguard and getting mobbed.

My publicist had called me daily with more questions. Under River's direction, I'd told her we were friends. But it felt like so much more than friends with his head in my lap.

"We need to go get tattoos after the show,” Iris said in the middle of playing through a song.

"Tattoos?"

He didn't stop, singing between his words. "It's something I try to do with all our new experiences." He hummed the last word and then stopped playing and tapped his arm.

"How do you do that?"

"What?" Iris asked.

"Play and sing and talk." He was blowing my mind.

Iris scrunched up his nose. "Did I?"

"He always has. His brain doesn't work the same way ours does. Don't even ask. He also sings while he reads and doesn't know he does it." River rolled to his back, smiling up at me.

"There's always music running through my head. Since I was a child." Iris lifted his shoulders. "I can't stop it. It used to be other people's songs, but then I started to make up my own."

"I get it, but different."

"What do you mean different?" Iris asked. He walked over to where we sat.

"I've been writing stories as long as I can remember. I couldn't stop if I wanted to. They are a part of me. If I saw two people on the street, I'd start writing about them. Or anyone who had an interesting face. If I was bored in school, I'd write about the other kids. I'd draw, but poorly. I think that's why I was so drawn to graphic novels. The narrative in my head fits them because I see stories in my brain that way." I brushed my fingers over River's cheek, reveling in the intimacy. It felt so private even in front of Iris.

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