Page 100 of A Duet of Darkness and Dreams

I sit down and pull the typewriter toward me, fiddling with the knobs. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s great. Fine.Peachy.”

Feeling him tense from here, I try to take a deep breath. I can’t be mad at him. He promised me nothing and was always up front about what we were to each other. It’s my problem. It just stings to know I’m not good enough for him when he’s all I ever think about.

“You don’t exactly seem fine. Barney said you hit your head. Are you okay?” he asks, his fingers gently grazing the top of my hair.

As if on instinct, I bat his hand away. “I said I’m fine, Noblar.”

It comes out harsher than I intended. Fuck, this is going to bea long trip. I continue to fiddle with the knob, aware of his eyes watching me but refusing to look up at him. He’s probably trying to decipher what the hell my problem is. After what feels like forever, he turns and walks toward the back of the bus, where I watch as he climbs into the bottom bunk on the left and lies down staring at the ceiling.

An uncomfortable shiver races across my skin. I should apologize. I should tell him I was wrong to snap at him, that I didn’t mean to push him away. I have a job to do, and that’s what I need to focus on. But I can’t lie to myself any longer. I like Dave. I care about him. And I want him to want me the way I want him.

The bus shifts from side to side, and there’s a commotion as James, Joel, and Key come through the curtain. I feel rather than hear the bus engine rumble to life then we begin moving.

“Seattle, here we come!” Key shouts, waving a pair of devil horns with each of his hands into the air and banging his head so his dark hair flies everywhere.

Joel jumps into the seat next to me and nudges my shoulder. “Excited?” he asks.

The three of them inch closer, their wide, smiling faces bobbing above me, and I can’t help but mirror their energy back at them. “Let’s get this party started!” I shout.

Out on the road,I do my best to insert myself into their enthusiasm. To ask questions about what it’s been like living out of a bus in such confined quarters day in and day out. What it’s like traveling around the country and performing for thousands of people. Before I know it, I’ve hit my journalistic stride, filling my new leather-bound journal full of their tour stories.

“In Georgia, we played in an open-air theater and it poured rain from the moment we started until the end of the last song.”

“At the show in Kentucky, this girl snuck onto the bus while we were playing and stole all of Key’s clothes!”

“The fucking seagulls in Maine are terrifying. I swear one was trying to peck my eye out.”

For hours, I listen to them talk, while periodically they bust out a guitar and play me something they’ve been working on. Their joy is contagious, and they’ve given me so much already.

All but Dave.

At some point, he pulled the curtain across his bunk, and he hasn’t emerged since. It’s not until James stays behind to help me lower the dining table into a bed that anyone mentions him at all.

“He’s glad you’re here, you know,” James says quietly as he passes me a pillow.

I look up. “Who?”

James gives me a look, and I feel heat rush into my cheeks. Of course. Who else would he be talking about?

“I know he can be a moody bastard, but even if it doesn’t seem that way tonight . . . he’s happy you’re with us.”

I look past James toward the bunks. “Oh. Sure, I know that.” I shrug. “He’s probably just tired and wanted to get to sleep early.”

James smiles. “Yeah, we’re all a little beat after spending the entire day cleaning.”

I raise my eyebrows. “You guys were cleaning?”

He gestures to the spotless bus. “Should’ve seen this place eighteen hours ago. It was a fucking disaster zone. Dave made sure we cleaned it up before we came to get you.”

My stomach flips. “He—oh, that was . . . you guys didn’t have to—”

“That’s what Joel said, then Dave almost punched him in the face so . . .”

I grin. “Well, I really appreciate it. And thanks for making me feel at home already. I know I’m kind of crashing your party.”

He shrugs. “It’s not as glamorous as people think.” Pushing his long curly hair away from his face, he offers me a gentle smile. “Good night, Isabella.”

“Good night.”

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