Ruin Porn (15 page)

“Fuck you. And fuck your feelings. This job may be all fun for you—you may not care if Rez makes it big or not because you’re okay with being like everyone else. But you’re not like everyone else, Finn. The notes you can pull out of a guitar aren’t natural, man. You have a gift.”

Finn froze while peeling the label off his bottle.
Had Miah just complimented him?

Then Miah opened his mouth again. “I refuse to let you fuck that gift up.”

Finn huffed and shook his head. And there was the usual Miah, asshole firmly clamped shut.

“This is only the beginning of the pressure we’ll be under, Finn. Learn how to deal.”

Miah wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. Whatever was happening with him, Ritchie, and Evin had the potential to make the pressure much, much worse.

As his dad always said, he’d gone too far down the assembly line to unmake this Studebaker. Not to mention Finn really wanted to take this idea out for a ride, even if he ended up in a pile of flaming wreckage.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Prague

“P
RETTY
SURE
gods don’t get sore throats,” Ritchie goaded Miah, leaning over his hotel bed and putting a hand to Miah’s forehead.

Evin sat across from them, on Ritchie’s bed, watching Ritchie take care of Miah. He wasn’t sure whether either of them registered he was in the room. He’d been quieter than usual since Oslo, stuck in his own thoughts partially, but also freaked-out because he didn’t know what to say. He’d thought playing with Rez was out of his league. Fucking them definitely was. He shouldn’t have been checking out Ritchie’s shoulders and ass at all, let alone with Miah right there, but it was impossible not to fantasize now that hooking up with Ritchie and Finn was a matter of when and not if. And anyway, their lead singer was too wrapped up in his dramatics to notice anything else.

Miah made what looked like a terrific effort to swallow, groaning through the process, and Ritchie smirked. “You want a cold towel on your forehead?”

Miah’s bottom lip turned out in a world-class pout. “No.”

“A warm towel on your throat?”

Miah side-eyed him. He placed his arms crossed over his chest as if he was in a coffin.

Ritchie scratched his head and surveyed Miah from head to foot. “Can you Reiki yourself?”

Evin snorted out a laugh, there was no way to keep it in. Miah gave both of them the finger. Apparently he was aware Evin was in the room.

Ritchie patted Miah’s cheek and stood up. “Sid has a doc on the way over. But I’m sorry to say I think you’ll live, Mr. Thade. Is there anything else I can get you to aid in your recuperation?”

“Humidity?”

“Humidifier on.”

“EO blend diffusing?”

“If you mean the oil drops thing with water, then yes.”

“Chicken soup?”

“You don’t have a soul.”

“Ah, I forgot. Get out of my room,” Miah scratched out.

“Gladly.” Ritchie saluted him, likely for the reason that it would both infuriate and flatter Miah.

When Ritchie pulled the door shut, Evin rounded on him, worried about what this would mean for their concert. “Is he going to be okay for the show tomorrow?”

Ritchie cackled, a full-on belly laugh that had him clutching his stomach and folding over. “Yeah, he’ll be fine,” Ritchie wheezed out and grabbed on to Evin to help himself stand again. “He feels bad about how hard he pushed yesterday so he’s trying to make everyone feel bad for him so they won’t hate him as much.”

Evin’s jaw dropped. “That totally worked on me.”

“He’s had some years to refine his skills.”

Finn must have heard their voices, because he entered the hallway and clicked the door to their room shut. “Let’s go to the John Lennon Wall first.”

Ritchie scowled and held Evin back with a hand to his shoulder. “I’m not going out with him wearing that.”

Evin took in the black T-shirt with cartoon faces that Finn wore with his usual holey jeans and flip-flops paired with the cap and aviators he sported when they went out in public.

“What’s wrong with that?”

Ritchie jabbed a finger at each of the cartoon figures in turn. “Harry, Liam, Louis, Niall, and Zayn.”

Evin had no idea what Ritchie was going on about.

Finn swatted his finger away. “That you know their names says volumes, Myer.”

“Fucking One Direction,” Ritchie scoffed and turned to Evin. “He made
Rolling Stone
’s list of the guitarists to watch and he’s wearing a fucking boy band on his chest.”

Evin tipped his chin down and tried to disguise his laugh.

Finn pointed at the face with blond hair. “Niall plays guitar.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Ritchie said, but was laughing too hard to pretend he was still offended. “You and your boy bands. Whatever. Let’s go to the John Lennon Wall, then get drunk.”

“The Beatles were the original boy band,” Finn added as he tapped the button for the elevator.

“Shut up, Finn.”

T
HEY
WALKED
through the winding, convoluted streets of Prague, Finn occasionally checking the GPS on his phone to make sure they were still on track. Evin had been there before—one of those tortuous trips with his family he’d mentioned to Finn back in London—and he recalled the layout, having been old enough to sneak out of his solo hotel room and explore the streets on his own during the month they were there. But he was content to let Finn and Ritchie lead him around. At least they were physically and mentally with him there. His parents had required their own space, detached from him and the rest of the real world, even as they claimed to be exploring it.

He’d been a hopeful teenager when he first arrived there, sure he was ready to be an adult and way too naïve to know he wasn’t. He’d been so vulnerable. This city had been the first place where he’d kissed a guy. Where he’d gone from knowing he was gay to experiencing that reality. It was so worth the heartbreak that had followed.

The memory of first love wasn’t anything compared to the reality of who he was with now, though. In the two months they’d known each other, Ritchie and Finn had gone from idols to friends. Miah, too, but in a very different way. The shine Miah fought to keep on Rez was gone off of Ritchie and Finn, and what he’d found underneath was so much better. Then there was this unacknowledged
thing
buzzing between them. The friendship, the career, plus this? Somewhere Evin knew it couldn’t last—it was too good and the world didn’t tip in any one person’s favor for that long. So he’d hold on to it for as long as he possibly could and enjoy the ride for however long it lasted.

They entered a short alley that opened up to reveal a twenty-foot high wall to their right, covered in spray paint, pen, and ink.

“It’s a lot bigger than I thought it would be,” Ritchie noted.

“That’s what she said,” Finn interjected and wandered off, laughing harder at his own joke than either Evin or Ritchie did.

Evin took off for a different section, getting up close to read some of the personal messages scrawled along the concrete. He ran his fingers over the rough stone, awed at the love shown for Lennon in such an artistic display of bright colors, symbols, and words. He’d made his way from one end of the wall to the middle, and his heartbeat kicked up a notch when he saw Finn approaching him.

“There are, like, thirty years of layers under there,” Finn said, coming up next to him.

Evin glanced over his shoulder at him. He’d worshipped Finn when he was a fan, but the man he knew now…. Evin was attracted to him for things that went much deeper than that goofy grin, pale Irish skin, or his wicked fast fingers.

“I’ve had to work to make peace with who I am.” Finn pointed to white lettering that was beginning to disappear under another layer of graffiti—
Peace within yourself will set you free
—the
O
in the yous turned into asymmetric peace signs.

“You’ve found it.”

Finn looked at Evin. “I think I’m getting close.”

Evin opened his mouth to ask Finn what that meant when Finn’s phone buzzed in his hand. “This better not be Miah.” He put the cell to his ear. “Finn here.”

Evin was standing near enough he could hear a voice that sounded like Sid on the other end of the call.

“Yeah, sure,” Finn responded to something Sid asked, then lowered his cell, waved Ritchie over, and hit the speakerphone. “We’re all here.”

“And I’ve got Miah with me.”

“Where are you guys?” Miah’s scratchy voice came over the line.

“At the John Lennon Wall. It was Finn’s choice,” Ritchie answered.

“Boy band. Naturally.”

Finn smiled. “Shh, Miah. Save your voice.”

Sid grumbled, and there was the sound of the phone being jostled. “Knock it off, you two. Now to business. The label okayed an extension to the tour. You’ll have a break after Madrid, then six more dates.”

“Where?” Ritchie asked, his gaze bouncing between Finn, Evin, and the phone.

“We’re going international.”

“Holy shit,” someone said, but Evin’s hearing was fuzzing out and he couldn’t have said who it was that said exactly what he was thinking. An international tour—one outside the US or Europe—was a significant investment by the label, a risk they wouldn’t be taking on unless they expected Rez to skyrocket.

Then Miah’s throaty voice was cutting through his haze. “This is your doing, isn’t it, Sid?”

“Damn straight it is,” Sid said.

Finn jumped up and down in place, then put the speakerphone almost directly to his lips. “I don’t give a fuck if you’re grumpy, Miah. If you were here, I’d hug the fuck out of you.”

Miah started to chuckle and coughed instead. “When you get back.”

Ritchie grabbed the phone. “Now go sleep, ’kay? We’ll be back later.”

Miah and Sid signed off the call, Ritchie hung up, and they stood there staring at each other, a wide grin spreading across Ritchie’s face. “Let’s celebrate.”

R
ITCHIE
SLAPPED
Evin’s back, nearly knocking him over with his enthusiasm. “Let’s hit this place.”

Evin glanced up at the sign—Prague Beer Museum. “A museum for beer?”

Finn opened the door and swept his arm inside. “A bar.”

“That I can do. I’ve had enough of boy bands this morning.”

Ritchie lifted his eyebrows and pointed at Evin. “See! I told you it’s not just me.”

Finn put his hands over his heart—and by proxy the faces of One Direction—and winced. “You mortally wound me, Ev.”

They circled through the packed tables and finally found a high-top that could fit all of them. Immediately Finn announced he was heading to the bar in search of drinks.

Ten minutes later he was back with a tray of dark beer in glass mugs, trailed by a woman with plates of food. The waitress set down a platter with an assortment of cheese and sliced sausages, then a bowl of chili clattered down next to it. Add their thick beers to the mix and Evin wouldn’t want to be in the same country as the two of them later in the day, let alone one hotel room.

“Um,” Evin coughed, felt the heat crawling up his cheeks as he waited for the waitress to clear out. And to figure out how to phrase things without being weird about it. “I’m all for trying local food and all of that. I’m just thinking….”

Ritchie pinched a sausage between his fingers and wolfed it down. “Does good greasy comfort food offend your California granola-eating sensibilities?”

Evin wiped his hands on his jeans, his nerves taking hold. “It does have the potential of offending my stomach.”

“And making extracurricular activities very unsexy,” Finn said, catching up to Evin’s train of thought. He swiped the plate. When Ritchie started to protest, Finn shushed him. “We’ll be back in Prague someday.” He had to yank the plate farther away when Ritchie reached for it. “There are two options for eating sausage today. You can choose one, not both.”

Ritchie looked to the plate, then between Finn and Evin, then back to the plate.

“Fine,” he pouted with a look that was a dead ringer for the one Miah had given him earlier in the day.

“Stop faking, Fakey Fakerson,” Finn taunted. “Fuck the food. It’s time to go back to the hotel for a real celebration.”

“Come on. Let’s have a few drinks first,” Ritchie protested.

Buoyed by the good mood brought on by the tour announcement and ready for much more than just alcohol, Evin leaned in to Ritchie. “I’d love for you to get on your knees right fucking here and suck Finn and I off, but I think it may be too public.”

Ritchie sat stock-still, then peered over Evin’s shoulder at Finn. “Dude. The kid doesn’t say a lot, but when he does, it’s something to pay attention to.”

“No shit. Now you’ve got two of us with the same goal, you going to come with or is this party just Evin and me?”

Evin’s belly curled in an unexpected surge at the words
just Evin and me
, and it was Finn’s hand landing on his back and sliding up to his neck that made Evin’s muscles tense in expectation. It was Finn’s thumb caressing at the spot at the base of his neck that made him want to arch into the touch. But Finn didn’t go any farther.

Ritchie downed more of his beer. “You two know how to ruin a guy’s good time with an even better time. I definitely want to see more of”—he made an imaginary circle around Finn and Evin with his finger—“that.”

With that encouragement, Finn shifted behind Evin so he was pressed against Evin’s side in the crowded restaurant, a semi pushing against Evin’s hip. It was almost as if Finn needed Ritchie there to give them permission, to tell them it was okay to touch. Evin was so fucking on board with this plan his hands were shaking and he could barely lift his mug to his lips. Finn slid his hand from Evin’s neck to circle around his hip. None of Finn’s advances were too obvious, but every touch was taking a risk, and if Finn was pushing the boundaries here, what would he do when they were alone?

Ritchie’s gaze was on them, and with how dark his blue eyes had become, it was apparent he felt the electricity that was arcing in the air. Ritchie shifted in his seat, and Evin’s gaze landed on his lap. Oh yeah, Ritchie was definitely experiencing the volts and they were amping up his dick big-time.