Not wrong-bad.
Wrong-good.
Which is so much more unsettling that I've been bracing for the other shoe to drop for the past seven days.
It started Tuesday. We were running through "Crimson Throne" for the fourth time and I fumbled a fill—nothing major, just a snare hit that landed a sixteenth note early. The kind of mistake that would normally earn me a death glare and a clippedagaindripping with contempt.
Rex looked over his shoulder and said, "Close. Try leading with the left."
That's it.
No venom. No snarling. Not even a biting suggestion that I should consider a career in fast food.
Simple feedback.
Helpfulfeedback.
I nearly dropped a stick.
Wednesday, he asked me to pass him a cable. Said please. I checked his forehead for fever. He swatted my hand away and told me to fuck off, which was comforting, but then he almostsmiledand that sent me spiraling again.
Thursday, he brought coffee. For everyone. Set it on the amp without a word and walked away like it was nothing. My cinnamon latte. Rafael's black espresso. Bells's oat milk monstrosity with multiple pumps of sugary pink and crimson syrup that makes it look like unicorn blood.
He remembered our orders.
Now it's Friday, and we're six hours into rehearsal, and Rex just told me my tempo wasgood.
Rex Steele said the wordgoodabout something I did and it wasn't sarcastic.
I'm sitting on the ratty couch in the back room during our break, still processing this, when Bells drops onto the cushion beside me.
"You look like someone told you Santa's real," she says.
I grin at her. "Rex said my tempo was good."
She grins right back. "I heard."
"He's never said anything positive about my drumming. Ever. In the entire time I've known him." I scrub both hands through my hair. "Is hedying? Did Carmine put him on meds? Is this a body-double situation? Should I check for a zipper?"
Bells snorts. "Maybe he's just... being less of an asshole."
"That's what scares me. Especially since he's been 'less of an asshole' since you guys got back from Jamie and Orion's, which is fucking unheard of, by the way. Mask day fucks him up for weeks."
An even wider grin tugs at Bells's lips. "Yeah, well, there might be a reason for that."
"Did you guys…?"
More grinning. "Yeah."
I almost choke. "Youfuckedat Jamie and Orion's house?"
"Keep it down," she hisses, looking around to see if anyone heard us even though it's just Rex and Raf at the studio right now. "Not… notall the way. Not yet."
"Does he know…?"
"That I'm an omega and his scent match? Nope. Still thinks I'm a beta."
"Are you gonna tell him?"