Series: Cobalt Empire Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 220
Estimated words: 215301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 861(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 861(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
“Now you sound like Audrey.” I type on my phone.
“Our intelligent little sister. She makes valid points.”
“Like what? Wanting to skinny dip in a freezing cold ocean in Italy and getting her clothes stolen?”
“And we wouldn’t have done the same?”
He’s not wrong. Eliot and I have skinny dipped plenty of times, but I’d like to believe we’re aware of our surroundings and wouldn’t fall for a prank. I finish typing and hit send.
TOM CARRAWAY
I want to work on this song. I’m fine. Please. You can even come to my place.
I wait anxiously for a reply, but it doesn’t take long.
PHOENIX WOLFGANG
Be there soon.
27
PHOENIX ST. PIERRE
“You go hard last night?” my brother asks, nodding to the bottle of Pedialyte and two bananas in my hand. I kick the fridge shut with my boot.
Birdie knows I was at The Trench last night. The subject of Tom has come up often enough that I try to skirt around it, if I can. He’s still worried about me catching feelings and getting hurt, so I don’t want to add to his mountain of stress by constantly bringing Tom up.
But last night was different. I was celebrating our progress in the album, and it felt wrong to omit the fact that Tom would be at the club.
Birdie’s response: He texted me a confirmation for an online order he shipped to the apartment. He bought a bulk package of tissue—eighteen fucking boxes. “To either wipe your tears or catch your cum,” he told me. “Either way, you’re going to need them. You’re welcome.”
Little brothers…or maybe I just have one who ruthlessly ribs me.
Here in the kitchen, I’m already wavering whether to tell him the truth about last night. He will have something to say. He will be epically concerned, and I don’t want him to worry right before his two-month North American tour with Nothing Personal. He leaves tomorrow.
Birdie plops his backpack on the counter and opens a kitchen cabinet. He’s obsessed with Cheerios, so I know he’s about to confiscate every box in this apartment to take on the road.
At my silence, he hikes his brows at me. “It’s not a trick question, man.”
I inhale deeply and glance at the drink and fruit in my hands. Fuck it. “They’re not for me. I’m going to Tom’s. He’s hungover.”
Birdie’s raised hand pauses on the box of Cheerios. His face contorts through a series of emotions landing on disbelief. “You’re bringing Tom Cobalt Pedialyte?” He sweeps me from head to toe. “Phoenix—”
“He got drunk because of me.”
“Did you funnel alcohol into his mouth?” He opens the flaps to the cereal box. “Otherwise, I think you should put that back in the fridge and let the little rich kid buy his own electrolytes.” He stuffs his hand inside the box and then shoves a giant fistful of Cheerios in his mouth.
I expel an exhausted breath. “He’s not as bad as you think, Bird.”
Birdie chews slowly, assessing me. “You slept with him.”
“I didn’t.”
He tilts his head, studying me harder. He’s mid-chew when he talks. “How many times did Chase go on a bender? I never once saw you bring that guy so much as a fucking banana. And here you have two bananas and Pedialyte.”
“Jesus, can you stop bringing up the Pedialyte?” I set the bottle on the kitchen table just so I can rub the sweat off the back of my neck. It’s really not about the Pedialyte. Resurrecting Chase’s name increases the angry heat in my core. “Maybe I was just a bad boyfriend back then.”
Birdie rolls his eyes. “Please. You were like the world’s most okay boyfriend.”
“Thanks for that.”
“He was a bad boyfriend. Always gave you shit for practicing late, and when we started doing shows with Sophomore Summer, I think he came to two. The support wasn’t there, man. I don’t think he deserved a banana.” Cheerio crumbs dust Birdie’s shirt, and he brushes them off. “But what do I know? I don’t do relationships.”
“They’re overrated.” I haven’t been in a relationship since Chase, my college boyfriend. I used to think he ruined them for all-time. I never saw myself going down that road again, but with Tom, even knowing he’s a bandmate…I don’t know anymore.
It’s not even knowing he wants one. A boyfriend. Something he’s never had. It’s just feeling like I’d be missing out on so much if I made a harsh line and refused to step over it.
Chase has already taken too much from me. I don’t want him to hold me down anymore. Writing “Dirty Rise” with Tom has been cathartic. Now I want to actually put action to those lyrics.
Birdie slowly closes the flaps to the cereal box. “I guess what I want to know—you actually think Tom is worth the Pedialyte?”
I inhale deeply. “Yeah, I do. I also think I judged him too harshly. He cares deeply about this band, Bird. It’s his entire world.”