Page 61 of Whiskey Sour
He steps to the side, and I follow, throwing Nancy a quick smile over my shoulder before turning to him. “Now, I know you said you didn’t want to meet any producers, but?—”
“You thought surprising me with this was a good idea?” he asks. I think it’s meant to come off as a simple question, but there’s a hint of anger in his voice. Something restrained, like he’s fighting his hardest to keep his cool.
Nancy clears her throat at the uncomfortable tension that now hangs around us. She doesn’t seem pissed, but definitely isn’t happy. “I see there’s been some sort of miscommunication here.”
“No, there hasn’t?—”
“Yes, there has been,” Cassius says. When his words come out with a bite, he clears his throat and smiles. “I don’t know what Skylar told you, but I’m not interested in your studio.”
“Cass,” I try to argue and give his arm a little squeeze. “Let’s not jump there.”
But the damage is already done. Nancy tips her head at Cassius, then at me. “I can see where I’m not wanted nor needed. It was nice meeting the two of you. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a rather busy night.”
I scramble to find a way to fix this disastrous introduction. “Wait, I’ll walk you out?—”
“Unnecessary,” she says curtly. “I can see myself out.”
My jaw hangs slack as she disappears behind the curtain. What the actual fuck just happened? I turn to Cassius, ready to ask him why he was so dismissive, but he’s already tossing his empty water bottle at the ground.
“Cass,” I say, bewildered by his attitude toward her. “The least you could have done was hear her out.”
To this, his head snaps up, and I see it again. The control that he always possesses is slipping. He’s trying his hardest to remain calm, but his twitching vein and slightly curled lips are a dead giveaway that he’s pissed. “Not now, Skylar. Please, go back to work.”
I shake my head. “I thought I was doing a good thing. Why did you?—”
“Because I’ve told you time and time again that I’m not interested in being signed!” he roars, gripping his roots like he wants to tear them from his scalp. “We talked about this aweek ago, and Ispecificallytold you I didn’t want to meet any producers.”
“I know,but I thought that it would be good for you,” I argue, my lower lip wobbling the angrier he gets. “I know you say you don’t want more than this, but?—”
“Idon’t!” he screams.
I take a step back. Cassiusneveruses that tone with me. Fuck, he never uses that tone with anyone. This isn’t like him. He isn’t filled with this much…fury. Cassius is an anchor, not the raging storm. I’m a little scared as he approaches me. Not that I think he’d ever hurt me, but because I’m horrified at just how angry he is with me.
“Do you not think this is enough?” he questions, the vein in his neck throbbing with rage. “Is all of this”—he gestures around the backstage area—“not good enough? Do you think I’m some type of loser who pines for the day he can make it big?”
I shake my head slowly, chest tightening with emotion. I hate that he’d ever think that. “No, I don’t.”
“Then why did you do this? What am I supposed to think?” He scoffs and drags his hand down his face. “I think that you did whatyouwanted, Skylar. I think you were selfish and not thinking about what I wanted. Like always.”
My heart cracks as my vision blurs with unshed tears. “Wh-What’s that supposed t-to mean?”
“I—” He violently cuts himself off and takes a step forward. “Are you crying?”
“N-No,” I sniffle, even though I can feel the tears tracking down my cheeks. “I h-have allergies.”
He drops his head and mutters a curse under his breath. When he looks at me again, there’s nothing but remorse andagony in his stunning blue eyes. He opens his arms, a sad tip to his lips, and I run into him like the idiot I am.
I crash into his body, letting my tears out as he rocks me back and forth, all the while apologies spill from his lips. “I’m so fucking sorry, sunshine. I didn’t mean to lose it on you.”
“It’s okay,” I mumble against his bare chest. “I shouldn’t have done that without asking you. I was just trying to help.”
He pushes me away just enough that I can look him in the eyes. Cupping my cheeks in his large hands, he tips my head back so he can brush his lips against mine. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I was a dick for no reason.”
I want to believe that, but… “You’ve been off for a while, haven’t you?”
Not necessarily off, but just different. It’s so subtle I’m sure no one else notices, but I do. He’s not walking around shitting on everyone or secluded in his room and hiding from the world. But it’s the little things I see. The tension he carries on his shoulders, the way he hasn’t been able to fully relax in weeks. Something is going on and tonight’s behavior proves it.
His hands are still on my face as he tenses. “What? No?”
