Collision Course

by Anne-Marie Flemming

  I would have partied that night if only to chase away the lingering sadness, but after the concert, Rhys found me backstage. Still soaked with sweat, he put a hand on my shoulder in the crowd.

  “Are you gonna be going out?” he wanted to know. I wasn’t sure where he was going with the question, so I shrugged and gave him a questioning look.

  “You should make it an early night, maybe.”

  It wasn’t really a suggestion, the way he said it. It wasn’t some playful invitation for fooling around either, sounding too much like a criticism. I wasn’t sure how to take what he’d just said, but he had already moved on to talk to someone else by the time I thought to ask. I’d checked with him before about getting drunk, and he had said he didn’t mind it, but then again, last time after the Denver concert, I had been out for a little too long. I was slightly embarrassed that he thought he needed to point out that it shouldn’t happen again. My behavior hadn’t been ideal, but hell, I hadn’t been planning on doing it all the time. Apparently that sort of thing didn’t get a pass with Rhys.

  Nearly an hour later, still plagued by a bit of guilt, doubt and embarrassment, I finally made it back to the hotel. Things always got a little crazy and disorganized after a concert, with half the crew still doing their jobs and everyone who didn’t have one drinking, goofing around or wandering off in search of an after-party. It had overwhelmed me the first couple of times, when I’d latched onto Angus for lack of another obvious thing to do, but with this being the third show I had attended backstage, I was getting used to the bustle. It generally took a while to find a ride back to the hotel, if the bus wasn’t close by. People didn’t get left behind, Big D triple-checked that every night, but things never happened quickly.

  When I entered our hotel room, I thought he wasn’t there at first, despite the lights being on and the TV running, muted. Then I realized the balcony door was open. Brushing the curtain aside and stepping outside, I found Rhys leaning with his elbows on the ledge, smoking, staring out into the night.

  “Hey,” I said, and walked forward to join him. He silently reached into his pocket and flipped open his pack of cigarettes, holding it out for me.

  “You’re almost done with yours,” I pointed out. I really did need to be careful with how much I smoked, I knew he was a bad influence on me that way. Rhys, however, wasn’t having it.

  “I’ll have another.”

  Reluctantly, I pulled a cigarette from the pack, accepted his lighter from him and lit up. Then I propped my forearms on the ledge as well, taking in the city lights and skyline and listening to the subdued sound of the cars below. We were fairly high up, eighth or ninth floor or something like that.

  “You okay?” I asked after a minute or so of silence. As he had said, he’d lit another cigarette after finishing his first one, but otherwise, neither of us had moved at all.

  “I dunno,” he admitted finally.

  On one hand, considering how previously he’d gotten mad at me for even asking, I might have considered this something of an improvement. On the other hand, given how he’d felt the need to effectively order me to stay in tonight, I was starting to think that maybe he was beginning to be sick of me. It didn’t make complete sense considering how much of an improvement our sex life had made lately, but at the same time, I couldn’t help but remind myself that I had been accompanying him for over a week. A few days, had been his original offer, and surely my presence was already stretching the definition of few quite considerably.

  Stop freaking out, I reminded myself when dread washed over me. He hadn’t told me yet that he wanted me to leave, and I always over-analyzed situations. It was probably wise not to assume anything until he’d made himself clear.

  “What’s up?” I asked therefore casually. I glanced over at him and watched him shrug.

  “I dunno,” he said again.

  I picked up on what I thought was a note of resignation, or maybe boredom. I didn’t know how to respond to either of those emotions, however, so I remained silent, studying him some more, probably looking slightly helpless.

  “I just wanted some company.” Rhys shifted, peering at the streets below, then, with sigh, turned around and leaned with his back against the ledge.

  Was he talking tonight, or was he referencing my general reason for being here? Resisting the urge to grind my teeth at his vagueness, I tried to focus.

  Company. Okay. I was company. I could be company.

  I tilted my head and studied him for a moment, trying to find something right to say.

  “What else do you want?” I asked finally.

  It was a damn good question. I couldn’t resist asking it despite its utter openness, feeling any answer he gave me might be worth hearing.

  “What else do I want?” he echoed the question, looking somewhat amused as he pulled on his cigarette. “What, now? Later? In general?”

  “Yes,” I replied, looking unfazed. He actually chuckled.

  “From you?” he asked, apparently still not comfortable answering. I caught the glance he threw my way.

  “Maybe,” I said.

  “You’re not making sense.” The corners of his mouth were still turned up in an expression of amusement.

  I stepped a little closer. “I think you just don’t want to answer.”

  “I don’t know what I’m answering.”

  I shrugged and extinguished the butt of my cigarette on the concrete ledge.

  “What do you want?” I repeated. “Just tell me something you want.”

  “Ice cream.”

  I frowned at him. “Seriously?”

  He laughed. “I don’t know what else to say.”

  “Well, that’s the nice thing about an open-ended question. You can say anything.”

  “What do you want?” he shot back, as though to test me.

  “I want you to answer the question.”

  He laughed again. I seemed to have a talent for it, I realized, usually when I was trying to be honest with him, blunt, attempting to figure him out. I made him laugh, or at least smile. It was a wonderful thing to be able to do.

  He appeared to be doing some more thinking.

  “Fine. What do you want from me?” I narrowed it down, under the guise of making the question easier for him. “Can you tell me that?”

  He shrugged, again.

  “I dunno,” he said.

  I threw my hands up and turned in a circle. “Oh for fuck’s sake!” I exclaimed, laughing myself.

  He just stood there, shoulders hunched like a caught-in-the-act schoolboy.

  “What do you want from life?” I tried.

  “I dunno.” By now, we were both just sort of giggling. “Why are you asking me complicated questions like that?”

  “I dunno,” I admitted, deliberately echoing him, and went to lean against the ledge so close to him that our arms touched. He looked down at me. His cheeks and nose were red from the cold, against which his hoodie and my coat were completely inadequate. When he exhaled, I could see the foggy vapor of his breath.

  “You’re something else,” he said. He was smiling, so I surmised that this was a good thing, but given my thoughts from before I’d made him laugh, I still wasn’t certain.

  “Is that good or bad?” I asked coyly.

  “It’s good,” he assured me, and finally elaborated. “I like it.”

  The words sounded sincere, and I smiled up at him just as he put his arm around me.

  “I want to keep you around for a while.”

  The muttered words and accompanying smile caused a peculiar warmth to spread through my chilled body.

  Oh hell, did he really just say that?

  “Good,” I replied simply, looking up at him, and leaned up to kiss him on the lips. One of his hands still on my shoulder, I felt the other sliding along my neck during the kiss, and I stepped a little closer in response. My heart was beating wildly. It was something of a declaration he’d just made, and Zach would just have to keep feeding my ca
ts for a while longer.

  The kiss we shared was long and tender. I felt a bit euphoric and three sorts of floaty when we parted. For a moment, he rested his forehead against mine.

  “D’you wanna go to bed?” he asked then, flicking his cigarette onto the floor.

  “To bed, or to sleep?” I wanted clarification.

  “Bed,” he said.

  I obliged him. I was in the mood for oral, and so was he, so I stripped him down and sucked him off enthusiastically, enjoying his moans and gasping breaths and the way he buried his hands in my hair as he thrust. He no longer bothered to be gentle about it. I was fine with that. I poured all of my remaining energy into the act, not wanting to be selfish, leaving him exhausted and unable to do anything more than sigh contently once he’d come.

  “Good night,” I told him then, laying down next to him. He put his arm around me and pulled me close, and we spent the night cuddling closely. It took a long time for my heartbeat to calm enough so I could find some sleep.

  +++

  I realized I was finally getting used to Rhys in the mornings. It was getting easier now to ignore his dour demeanor, and not to take it personally that he barely ever spoke to me. While he was busy being his grumpy self, I packed and showered and went to occupy my time with my book until it was time to hop onto the bus shortly past noon.

  “Where are we headed to?” I asked Angus, who happened to be sitting next to me in the downstairs lounge. I didn’t have my own itinerary and at the moment was too lazy to go upstairs and glance at the one posted there. Plus, it gave me a chance to make a little conversation.

  “Ahh…” The guitarist tossed a snack pretzel into his mouth and squinted into the empty air. “Lubbock, I think? Was it Lubbock?”

  Todd, opposite us, nodded. “Yeah, Lubbock,” he confirmed.

  “That’s in Texas, right?” I’d never even been to Texas, and it occurred to me that I was slowly but surely being taken along all over the country, to so many places I had never even been before. Angus and Oz had been right that first night I’d met them, when we had talked about never getting to see anything in the cities we visited. The stress of traveling was exhausting enough that all I ever wanted to do was rest, get some food in me, socialize, and maybe go for the tiniest of walks. Sightseeing wasn’t much of an option, even though theoretically, there always looked to be time for it on the schedule.

  I said as much, and Angus nodded as he stretched.

  “Told you. See, you’ve got the privilege of getting to be just as jaded as the rest of us.”

  “Goodie.” I sent him a wry smile. “I feel so worldly now.”

  He promptly gave me a high five, and shared his pretzels with me. Angus was awesome.

  Later on, when the sun had set, I once again made my way upstairs to the bunk I shared with Rhys. I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, too preoccupied with what Rhys had told me to be able to calm my mind. My stomach still broke out in nervous flutters when I just thought about it. I hadn’t interacted much with him since, but just being in his general vicinity had been enough to make me feel special all morning.

  I’d been reading and daydreaming for a while when someone walked up to me. I’d left the curtains open in an attempt to not be completely unsociable, and glanced up to find Rhys standing next to me, holding something out at me. It took me a moment to recognize the black shape in his palm.

  “Why are you giving me your iPhone?” I took it when he patiently kept holding it out, but frowned at him, confused.

  “It’s not mine,” he said in response.

  “Whose is it, then?” I was ready to give the object right back to him and tell him he wasn’t making sense when he pointed at me.

  “Hnh?” I vocalized clumsily.

  “It’s yours,” he said.

  “I don’t have an iPhone.” It took me several more seconds before I finally thought I understood. “You’re giving me an iPhone?”

  “Yeah,” he said, looking pleased and sort of smug. I stared at him.

  “But… I…” I was actually stuttering. “I can’t…” My hand, still holding the phone, gestured wildly. “You can’t just give me a phone!”

  “Sure I can.” He appeared to be trying not to laugh at me. “Merry Christmas.”

  It was a little much. “Rhys, I can’t take that.”

  He sighed and gave me an exasperated look.

  “I just…” I shrank back when the look intensified. “Thank you,” I said in the world’s tiniest voice. I still wasn’t comfortable with this, but what the hell else was I supposed to say without pissing him off?

  He was back to looking pleased as he turned to leave, but I caught his sleeve.

  “Hey,” I said, and motioned for him to come closer. Then I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Really, thank you so much,” I voiced a somewhat more proper reaction to such an expensive gift.

  He turned to leave. Five seconds later he was back, taking my face in his hands and kissing me again. I chuckled a bit when he smiled at me.

  “Thanks,” I said again, weakly.

  “You’re welcome,” he replied and left for real.

  It took me a long moment before I realized that he was acting like he... cared about me, I supposed. Like there was something between us, more than sex.

  I buried my face in my hands and tried to calm my racing heartbeat. Oh god. I’d been trying to nip any unrealistic hope in the bud, telling myself that I wasn’t rock star boyfriend material, but how could I keep myself in check when he went and did things like cuddling and buying me phones and kissing me just for the fun of it. I couldn’t help but hope that maybe he did have feelings for me, maybe he wanted to keep me around more seriously, in an actual relationship. Fuck.

  +++

  Rhys was an expert at screwing with my feelings, I realized over the next several days. I had no idea whether he was doing it on purpose or not, whether this was just him being himself or whether he was messing with me, but I was starting to have distinct trouble with his mixed signals.

  It wouldn’t have been as bad if I hadn’t started to think he might care about me. Before, I hadn’t taken the way he acted personally, but that was slowly changing. Soon I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and give him a few good shakes until he decided what the hell he wanted with me.

  Sometimes he did act almost as though we were a couple. He walked with me, sat next to me during meals, and I enjoyed the occasions when we just hung out and talked and laughed, on the bus, in the hotel or even at a venue. Other times, he ignored me completely. It was a bit hurtful the way he sometimes made it a point not to interact with me, walking off as I approached, ignoring my attempts to talk to him and sometimes, when I entered our hotel room, even turning off the TV and leaving without a word. At night, sometimes, he held me while sleeping, usually on the same nights we had sex, and sometimes on the bus. Other nights I went to sleep feeling like just another pillow on the bed for all he interacted with me.

  I tried not to let it bother me. I couldn’t imagine that me making a scene would go over well, and I knew I was basically a neurotic ball of nerves and self-doubt, so I tried to tell myself that Rhys probably wasn’t even aware he was doing it. Maybe that was even true. I bounced around, feeling like a whore one day, like a friend with benefits the next, and, on occasion, like something resembling a boyfriend. He never kissed me in public or did anything like holding hands, usually keeping his distance, but then again, he obviously enjoyed spending time with me… sometimes. Whenever I found myself feeling slapped in the face by his behavior towards me, I usually went to hang out with whoever was around. Angus became something of a refuge, though I wasn’t sure whether he was aware of my emotional state when I sought him out. He was good company, and we generally got to chatting over a beer or two.

  Ten days turned into sixteen. I desperately tried to keep it together that whole time, to pretend that Rhys' changing moods didn’t bother me, and I thought I managed pretty well. We
kept criss-crossing the country, a concert every three days, on average. Then, one evening, just after I’d listened to a few of the crew mention the upcoming break in the touring schedule, Angus returned from the fridge and handed me a beer. I took the can and raised it in thanks.

  “You know Rhys' birthday is coming up, right?” he asked.

  “No,” I admitted freely. “He never said anything.”

  “Well,” he sighed and took a seat across the table. “Coming up in a couple days. The twelfth. I dunno if you want to get him anything, but I figured I’d mention it.”

  I nodded, twisting the can in my hands absent-absentmindedly.

  “Appreciate it,” I assured him, then reflected upon the problem this presented. “Fuck, I don’t know what I’d get him.” I was nearly broke, for one, and for another I really had no clue what sort of birthday present Rhys would actually like.

  Angus shrugged.

  “I’m sure he’d be more than happy with some, ah, non-material… favors.”

  It was almost a joke between us at this point, the fact that I was sleeping with Rhys. We’d never discussed it in detail, and Angus was cool enough not to be crude about it, but he did, on occasion, acknowledge the fact. Now, I saw the corners of his mouth turn up as he made his rather implicit suggestion.

  “Well, obviously.” A birthday blowjob was probably the least Rhys would expect. For fuck’s sake, the guy had gifted me an iPhone for no reason at all. “But that seems, I dunno, not a lot.”

  Angus pulled a bit of a face, looking dismissive.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it,” he said wisely. “Rhys is not gonna expect a whole lot. We’ll get him a cake and a party hat and a new amp or some shit.”

  I cracked open my beer and took a sip.

  “Wait, go back to Rhys wearing a party hat,” I demanded, and he laughed.

  Two days later, we were in Prescott, Arizona. It was the day after the concert, the weather was shit, and we all had a bit of downtime at the hotel. I’d gone shopping for granola bars and shampoo, then talked to Zach on my shiny new iPhone, and come early evening I sought out Rhys, who was sitting by the ping pong table that had been erected in one of the communal areas near the top floor. Oz, Penley, JJ and Odie were playing.