Except I’d looked plenty when Cameron had walked naked into the living room, hadn’t I? I ran a hand down the back of my neck.
Max was watching me from the piano, his arms folded, armed with a half-smirk that meantI know exactly what you’re not saying.
Max had no fucking idea.
“Good work, everyone,” I said briskly, gathering sheet music. “We’re getting there.”
The group started packing up, voices tumbling over one another, laughter echoing off the rehearsal room walls. Someone made plans for drinks. Someone else debated takeaway options. The noise filled every inch of space until, one by one, it dwindled.
Until only Max and I were left.
Max leaned against the piano. “You know, for a bunch of emotionally stunted gays, that was almost spiritual.”
I shot him a look. “You’re very proud of yourself right now, aren’t you?”
“Deeply. But more importantly…” Max’s grin turned sly as he pointed at me. “Youwere somewhere else tonight.”
“I was right here.”
“Liar.” He tapped the piano with one ringed finger, a rhythmic beat that echoed my own uneven pulse. “You lost the downbeat twice.”
I froze. “Once.”
Max shook his head. “Twice.” He arched his eyebrows. “I’m guessing your mind was elsewhere. Probably with your lodger.”
I exhaled. “Has anyone ever told you you’re persistent?”
“I prefer observant,” Max countered. “You’rethe one walking around here as though someone replaced your metronome with a heartbeat.”
I rubbed a hand over my face. “I’m fine.”
“You’re lying to the guy who’s sung bass under you for years. You forget I can feel your pulse through the damn harmony.”
I gave a quiet, humourless laugh. “Okay, that’s disturbing.”
“That’s friendship,” Max said simply. His voice softened. “So are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
I didn’t answer.
“Not that you need to. It’s Cameron. You like him. And you’re pretending you don’t, which—fine, I get it. Gary’s brother, straight, messy boundaries, etcetera. But you’ve been living like a monk forhowlong now?”
My jaw clenched. “This isn’t about sex.”
“Oh, I know.” Max’s eyes gleamed. “That’s what makes it worse.”
I didn’t rise to it. I bent to gather stray pages of notation instead, stacking them neatly, edge to edge. It gave my hands something to do.
Max sighed. “You’re terrified, you know.”
I straightened. “Of what, exactly?”
“Losing the script. You think control is safety. You forget sometimes that safety can be lonely as hell.”
My throat worked, but I didn’t reply.
“Go home,” Max said gently. “Or walk. Whatever you do when you’re trying not to think.”
I looked up. “Walk, usually.”