She looks small and sharp and slightly keyed up, which makes two of us.
"Carmine just texted," she says, holding up her phone. "He'll be here in an hour."
My stomach tightens. "Great."
"Where's Rex?" Phoenix asks, sitting up.
Bells hesitates. "I'm, uh. Not sure, actually."
"You're not sure," I repeat flatly.
"He was in the live room ten minutes ago. I went to grab water, came back, and he was gone." She shrugs, but there's a crease between her eyebrows. "His guitar's still there. So's his jacket."
Phoenix is already hauling himself to his feet. "Maybe I should go find him."
"Yeah," I say, meeting his eyes. "Maybe you should."
He nods once and ducks out of the room. Bells and I watch until Phoenix's heavy footsteps echo down the corridor, then fade.
Bells drops onto the couch in the spot Phoenix just vacated and pulls her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them.
I pluck the E string again. Let it vibrate.
"He was fine earlier," Bells murmurs.
"He's not fine tonight."
"Yeah, I got that."
"Whatever you did at the tower?—"
"I know." She rubs her face with both hands. "Iknow."
I watch her sideways. The white hair falling across her fingers. The tension in her shoulders that's usually hidden under swagger and sarcasm.
She's worried about Rex.
Genuinelyworried, not performatively worried, and the fact that I can tell the difference means I've been paying way too much attention.
Story of my fucking life lately.
"So," I drawl, adjusting my grip on the bass neck. "Phoenix got a turn."
Bells lifts her head. "Hm?"
"Alone with you." I keep my tone light. "Phoenix got a turn. You and Rex had your tower… thing." I gesture vaguely. "When's mine?"
She stares at me.
Then that grin starts. Slow and wicked, curling up one side of her mouth, her canine peeking out over her lower lip.
"Now?" she asks.
My fingers still on the strings.
She's already uncurling from the couch, shifting toward me, those honey-gold eyes locked on mine with an intensity that makes my pulse jump.
"You serious?" I manage.