The Tour. | +18 | BWWM

𝄞14 | Bird Fly - Part 3

The Tule fog was gone when I cracked my eyes open. Through the tour bus sunroof was a sea of stars with the last rays of sun painting a hint of gold in the sky. The sound of a lone guitar woke me up. But Zoey was still fast asleep next to me. The guitar rift was bluesy but modern at the same time. It balances new and old on a knife edge. But that guitar riff was dirty in all the best possible ways.

I followed the music with my barefoot, not making noise. And I imagined this is how all those mariners died to sirens. Asher was seated on the small circle couch right next to the kitchen. His leather-bound journal was unwrapped, with notes scrolled in it. His head was leaned back against the headrest. His fingers moved of their own accord, finding a way to make the dirtiest guitar rift dirtier.

Shirt off and all those tats on full display wearing just a pair of black jeans. One foot on the tiny table and a tumbler of whiskey. Hips pushed forward into his guitar as he chased the sound. With the spicy scent of his cigarillo in the ashtray in front of him. The slim cigar holder has one single cigar left in it. If he only gets those cigarillos a year, he's really burning through them.

His normally perfectly styled hair was a mess in front of him. The kind of messy haircut people pay and spend hours making. His expression was in a grimace as he plucked and tease the guitar. But if I'm honest, I couldn't say if Asher like this was in pleasure or pain. Trap in a loop of almost getting there, but not. I could hear it wasn't done as well as it could have sounded. He was close though and anyone else would have been happy with close.

Smoke rose from the little thin cigarillo rising to the open window. The last rays of the day I missed finally fell from the sky. The parking lot lights came on and still, he played. I felt that the rift found a way like magic to get dirtier. To find a way to sound like unmet sexual expectation. Until the sound changed and got darker, and richer. The thing about Asher is it's almost as if there are three Ashers. The guy who says treat me like a regular guy. He's nice and considerate. The Asher that writes in his journal. He trades information about himself for information about me. He's a normal guy, with a mischievous, playful smile. Then there's Asher the Rock Star, and it's like he's a sun on fire. He's nebulous in possibilities and almost unreal. He fills up a room, a stage, and he burns bright. Finally, there's something else that's always on the edge. Almost seen, almost out of control. When he kissed me in the parking lot before the anger.

So hard to describe. It was like when I kissed him; he was a powder keg ready to explode. Couldn't tell what that explosion was. I don't know who that Asher is. But I do realize it isn't pretty. But I'm not sure it was my place to ask about it. If I thought he was looking for something more than a casual hookup, I would. But Asher isn't known as a relationship star. Rock Star he's called even though he raps sometimes is very true. He always appeared on social media like that.

He groans in frustration but he didn't mess up. At least it didn't seem like he did. It sounded good. Still, the frustration was plain to see his face was in his clenched teeth grimace. I held my breath and began backing out of the little kitchen.

Maybe I was louder than I thought. Or, it could be, he just knew. But Asher's eyes were open and his hazel eyes locked on mine.

Shit.

The person looking at me wasn't Asher, the regular guy. It wasn't Asher, the rock star, with hints of something more. It was that on edge.

Edge of what, I still wasn't sure. It almost reminded me of that look on stage with his older brother Dustin in the last performance. Dustin's eyes and Asher's eyes have almost the same look in them, but not quite the same. Asher's isn't as blown out as Dustin's was. His have only the edge of it widen and darken. That little bit blown out could be a trick of the light. I still had to stop myself from taking a step back. The similarity was striking.