Who Knows When (Joger/Dealor)

Chapter 17

"It'll just cause trouble," John explained as calmly as he could, tilting his head down and taking my hands in his, rubbing his thumbs over my knuckles as he carefully structured his next few sentences. "We're in a band, Roger. We live with two other guys who are also in that band. If there's any chance of us making it...in any sense...we can't have the public knowing about us, and neither can they." He threw a thumb over his shoulder, indicating he was talking about Brian and Freddie as if I couldn't make that connection on my own. "It'll just complicate things more than they already are."

Anger quickly began to replace what was once lust, but I knew I couldn't go off on him—not again. I didn't think I could handle another day without him around, let alone several. So, rather, I opted to fix my clothes and sulk back over to the lawn chair where my cigarette and lighter still lied by the feet. I scooped them up and plopped down in the chair, taking the opportunity the settled air had offered me to finally light it. I shakily let out the smoky breath and said sharply, "So, what? You came up here to get it out of your system? Was that it?"

John frowned, upset I didn't understand the situation like he did. What he didn't seem to understand, though, was why I was upset. Perhaps it was because, before that dreadful night—that night whose events I played over and over again in my head—there was no indication that we had feelings towards each other. In fact, no one could tell how John felt towards any of us.

Before we all moved in together, he would just show up for practice, do as he was told, and then leave when we were done. He wouldn't join us for the post-practice night at the bar, and he wouldn't hang out with us at school either, but he'd never miss a practice. He was always there, always on time, and always ready to follow Brian and Freddie's orders. It was only when the four of us found this apartment that we finally were able to get a better grasp on him.

Even then, our grasp was minimal. Most of the time, when we weren't busy working on songs or scrambling to make the apartment presentable enough to pass our landlord's monthly inspection, he would sit on the couch or at the table by himself, reading the newspaper, plucking away at his bass, or scribbling ideas down in his notebook.

It was only in the one-on-one encounters we'd have where we would learn something new about him, and usually those encounters only happened with the other two, not me. Why that was is beyond me; Freddie and Brian never reported anything regarding me during our late-night meetups after John would go to bed and the three of us would stay up, trying to figure out the guy. It seemed we could never come to a conclusion, and it was possible we never would.

"What do you want me to do, John?" I asked when I realized he had nothing to say, his arms folded over his chest and his head hung low. "Do you want me to act like this isn't a thing?" I chuckled sadly, remembering the day in the studio like it was yesterday. "Because you saw how well that went last time. I can't."

"You'll have to," he conveyed, meeting my gaze, "It's the only way."

"Well what if I don't want to?" I snapped.

John walked up to me and slipped his hands underneath my jawline, murmuring with a mixture of endearment and seriousness, "Roger, please. We've been good so far, and we haven't done anything we'll regret. Let's keep it that way."

I pushed him away from me and shook my head in disbelief, chuckling at myself for being so stupid. "So, this was just to get it out of your system—one and done. I see how it is."

"Roger, stop!" he cried as I jumped up from the seat and crossed the roof to the other side, my back turned to him and the cigarette to my lips once more. "I like you, and I like this! I really do! It's just—"

"It's just what, John?" I yelled with complete disregard to the sleeping neighborhood and the bandmates who were only a floor beneath us, blowing out a breath of smoke and turning around to face him, "You just told me that you think of us as something more than friends, and then you tell me that you want me to act like there's nothing going on between us? I'm not that kind of person, John! I don't keep things to myself. I can't!"

"Then it looks like you're going to have to learn," he retorted bluntly, brushing past me and grabbing my ass along the way, freezing me in my place and leaning in close to whisper, "Especially if you want this to happen again...and I really hope you do." I met his gaze with glistening eyes, trying to do alone what Freddie, Brian, and I have been attempting to do together for months now.

I leapt in surprise when his hand squeezed my cheek, followed by a quick slap and the departure of his presence from my side. I spun around and watched as he disappeared over the side of the building, vanishing from my sight and leaving me in complete and utter awe.

What just happened?