Page 63 of Backstage

“Traitor,” I whisper between my teeth as I look at my crotch.

Without even realizing what I’m doing, I run to take the elevator she has just entered. With one hand, I stop the doors from closing and notice her surprised face when she sees me enter and press the button. She hides in a corner and looks down. Without thinking about it, I move towards her and crush my pelvis against her belly to make her feel how much I want her right now, sinking my tongue into her mouth. She is surprised at first, but then she kisses me back as if her life depended on it. I lose myself in her, in her touch, in her fingers clinging to my shirt to draw me even closer. I release her reluctantly to catch my breath and find her panting in front of me.

“What the hell are you doing to me? Less than two hours ago, I had a girl rubbing up against me, and it didn’t turn me on at all. Now just seeing you in an elevator makes me explode in my pants.” The words come out whispered, like a confession.

It’s the wrong thing to say. I realize this when an expression—first disappointed, then furious— crosses her face as she angrily pushes me away. I admit my communication skills are pretty rough, but it hurts me to see her so angry.

“Are you telling me that you tried to fuck someone else before kissing me? Do you really think I’d like that in any way?” It’s angry, sexy, and it’s short-circuiting my brain. “News flash, honey, a line like that works only in the movies. In real life, you get kicked in the balls and punched in the face!” she yells at me.

I instinctively move my hands to cover my privates. She is so angry she might do it. I love this fire that burns inside her, this blatant way she doesn’t let anyone get the better of her. I watch her furiously press the number to her floor and march out with such force it practically opens the doors wider. I say nothing and, when the doors close behind her, I lean against the wall and slide down to the floor.

“I’m an asshole,” I whisper under my breath, putting my hands on my face and letting the realization of what I’ve just done overwhelm me.

Furious. I’m still utterly irate from the episode with Damian in the elevator last night. I haven’t slept, I’ve been tossing and turning like I’m possessed, thinking back on his words and trying to find even the tiniest little reason not to feel completely humiliated and angry with him. Did he have to tell me he tried to fuck someone else but couldn’t?

“Come in,” I growl when I hear a knock on the door.

Luke, Martin, and Taylor tiptoe in like they’re walking through a minefield. I can tell by the way they look at me that I’m the bomb.

“Why are you packing those clothes as if you’re trying to make them disappear and then reappear in another dimension?” Martin asks me in a shaky voice.

“Because I was looking for something to put on, and I don’t have anything,” I yell furiously as I go to pick up some clothes off the chair.

“Are you on your period or something? Because if you are, we’ll leave you alone and come back in three days,” asks Taylor, concerned.

I look at them and realize I must really look like a lunatic, and it takes some of the anger out of me. I sit on the chair and inhale deeply, closing my eyes.

“No, I ran into Damian in the elevator last night, and after he kissed me, he said he’d just tried to fuck someone else, but he couldn’t get it up. On what planet is that something to say to a girl after you kissed her? Really, I cannot get into a man’s head and understand how his only neuron works.”

The great thing about having three male friends is that they often help you understand specific male dynamics. Damian seemed miserable that he made me angry, and I can’t understand how he could not have foreseen such a thing. Do I really look like someone who wanted to hear that?

Luke crosses his arms like a teacher, studying me carefully. “What exactly did he say to you?”

“Exactly, the way he told you is crucial to understanding the issue,” echoes Martin.

I look at them strangely, not realizing what the hell it means, since, either way, he said something terrible to me. I tell them, doubtful. “He said, ‘What the hell are you doing to me? I can’t believe two hours ago, someone was rubbing up on me, and I wasn’t excited, but just watching you take an elevator made me explode in my pants.’”

“Ah!” Taylor bursts out, clapping his hands while Martin and Luke look at each other with a smug smile on their faces.

“The explanation is easy,” Luke says. “He’s so into you that even if another girl spreads her legs in front of him, he just can’t do it. That’s the gist of it. You’re basically holding him by the balls, and you don’t even know it.”

I stare at them with my mouth open like they’re penguins that just escaped from the zoo. “Are you serious? But he’s the one who told me I’m nothing but a fuck. You guys are as delusional as Damian!” I’m in disbelief.

“He probably doesn’t even realize it, but last night he must have realized that you work like a cockblocker,” explains Martin.

I raise an angry eyebrow waiting for an explanation.

“Yeah, it’s like you’re his chastity belt...sort of. In the sense that only you get him excited and no girl can give him a boner anymore,” Taylor explains, as if this were a scientific experiment.

I put on my shoes and get up. “Please, let’s get out before I rip your heads off with my bare hands,” I say as I push them out of my room, and they chuckle.

I must admit, though, that in all the absurdity of that explanation, I find my heart doing a few too many somersaults. I can feel it: my naive organ that pumps blood is deluding itself that this could mean something. But my brain is stronger this time and forces me to leave my feelings inside this room, because I cannot afford to delude myself and then be crushed by yet another, inevitable, disappointment.

*

We’ve been sunbathing for at least an hour in Lederman Park, enjoying the day off. It’s been a long time since we’ve done something alone as a band. All the hustle and bustle of the tour has limited the time we have to relax. It’s not like Central Park, it’s microscopic by comparison, but there are baseball fields and grass. Plus, from this location, we can enjoy the Charles River’s view of the city on the other side.

“Do you realize that six months ago we were nobodies and now we have people paying to come and see us in concert?” Luke asks with his eyes still closed and his face reddened by the sun.

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