Page 65 of Down Beat

“Why do you care?” he asks with nothing short of snark. “Would my answer change how you feel about me?”

“What is the answer, Rey?” I bite. No, it wouldn’t change a thing. But it would sure explain a lot. He’s been up and down like a goddamn whack-a-mole, and if I can pick that from two ten-minute Messenger conversations, then what the hell is it like to tour with him? “I’m only asking because I want to learn more about you.”

“Now I’m calling bullshit,” he snaps.

I hold my breath, chewing on my bottom lip as he huffs and looks away.

“Maybe it’s time we both got some rest,” he says in a monotone. “Good night, kitty.”

His finger comes toward the screen before it cuts to black. I’m still stunned by the complete and utter shutdown, unable to think of what to say, let alone come up with anything fast enough to stop him disconnecting.

What the hell was that? So he has darkness inside of him. Don’t we all? Why is he so touchy about it?

I tap on my screen to save it going to sleep, and then send a quick message before closing the Messenger app.

T: I’m sorry if I crossed a line. I was genuinely curious. I don’t know enough about you to judge you. Sleep well.

Fuck knows, I won’t.