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“Now he’s got a lawsuit on his hands, that idiot,” Nathan said, fiddling with his camera. “Who beats their girlfriend so badly she has to go to the hospital? Sure, she’s a pain, but that’s no excuse. He could have just ditched her in the desert. And then he calls me, asking if I’ll post bail! Like we’re best friends or something! So I called Daniel, thinking he might help since his brother’s a lawyer—which, by the way, is shocking. Daniel works at Starbucks in Beverly Hills, and he had nothing better to do than tell me this dumb story about someone getting shot in front of their store.”

Nathan paused as he inspected the lens beside him. In a casual tone, he continued, “So he goes, ‘You won’t believe it, Nate, it took three minutes for the whole cavalry to show up! In our neighborhood’—he’s so proud of living in the ghetto—‘it takes fifteen minutes for them to show. And it’s not even the cavalry, it’s just one freaking cop car. And if they’re lucky, they don’t get shot. They just check how bad it is, then impose a curfew.’ God, what an idiot. Daniel, remember him? The guy with the long rant about the new generation. He needs to stop smoking. He smokes Salvia four times a week! Can you believe that? Acts like he’s hot stuff but hasn’t achieved anything. The guy’s pushing fifty.”

Leaf took a drag on his cigarette and watched Nathan babble away while switching lenses.

“Here, look. I took these in Griffith Park today.” Nathan held out the display, clicking through the pictures.

“Tires? Man… What are you on?” Leaf whispered, enduring the slideshow.

“And these are from yesterday. Took them at your place.”

They were pictures of Leaf’s insect collection, the view from the balcony into the woods, and a few shots of the living room table cluttered with drug paraphernalia. Even though the images on the screen were small and the drugs barely recognizable, the sight triggered something in Leaf. He inhaled sharply, clenching his fists as a wave of unease washed over him.

Fuck… I need to pull myself together. Find some way to distract myself. And not with Nathan’s babble.

It wasn’t that he was out of control, but he was terrified of losing it and spiraling again. The thought of yesterday’s relapse haunted him, and despite everything, his body still craved the drugs. Even Nathan noticed how the photo disturbed him and clicked past it, returning to the framed insects.

The door swung open, and a burst of noise from the opening act’s soundcheck flooded in as Tristan entered the dressing room. He closed the door behind him and glanced around.

Dressed in a black, half-buttoned shirt that hung loosely over his black jeans, his wild curly hair made him appear effortlessly hot. He didn’t need tattoos or extravagant jewelry. But he seemed a bit hesitant. His gaze swept over Nathan, who was busy with his camera, then paused on Leaf before landing on the drinks table. That’s where he headed. When Tristan poured himself a glass of orange juice with a trembling hand, Leaf knew something was up.

He approached him from behind and wrapped his arms around his waist. Just feeling his warmth turned him on. He tenderly kissed Tristan behind the ear and on the neck, prompting Tristan to shiver.

“What’s wrong?” Leaf asked softly.

Tristan tilted his head and pressed his lips together, his expression thoughtful. As he nestled against Leaf, the pressure reassured Leaf that he wasn’t the source of Tristan’s turmoil—despite having every reason to think so. With only Nathan in the dressing room, Tristan seemed unbothered by their closeness.

“We need to talk,” Tristan whispered.

Yes, we do, Leaf thought, snuggling even closer. But now?

He placed his hands over Tristan’s chest and kissed his neck again. Feeling Tristan’s reaction only aroused him more, and he could barely hold back. He slid one hand down Tristan’s stomach and the other up to his throat.

“Fuck… Leaf…” Tristan trembled.

Gently, Leaf turned his head and kissed him. He hadn’t been able to think of anything else during the soundcheck. When their lips met, he even let out a sigh. He just wanted Tristan. Wanted to feel him, taste him, devour him. Maybe with him, he could distract himself from his craving for drugs.

His pants grew tight, and he pressed even closer to Tristan’s backside. While one hand still held Tristan’s jaw and he was practically devouring him, he untucked Tristan’s shirt with the other and slid his hand inside. The warm skin felt electrifying, but it was too tight to touch Tristan’s penis.

A cough from behind startled him.

Nathan.

“I don’t want to spoil your fun, but it sounds like we’re about to have company.”

Fuuuck…

Tristan disentangled himself from Leaf’s grasp and faced him. He smiled awkwardly, a hint of sadness in his expression, but there was also a determined glint in his eyes. Leaf tugged at Tristan’s shirt, seeking his soft lips again, but this time, Tristan placed his hands on Leaf’s chest and looked deeply into his eyes.

“Come with me.”

Just then, the door opened and the opening band entered the room. Without protest, Leaf followed Tristan through another door, down a hallway, and into one of the bathrooms. The tightness in Leaf’s pants was becoming unbearable. He locked the door behind them, pushed Tristan against the wall, and devoured his lips.

“I want you,” he whispered between kisses. “Now. Here.”

Tristan desired him just as much—Leaf could feel it—but he was also fighting something. While he tried to push Leaf away, he simultaneously clung to him as if he never wanted to let go.

“Leaf,” he gasped, cupping Leaf’s head and seeking his gaze.