"I didn't know you'd be here," Brandon cut off Sacha. "I figured I could avoid—"

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. He thought he could avoid Eli? Oh, please. "I don't care," I piped up in a sing-song voice. "Get off the bus and talk to me. You owe me." I wanted to add a “motherfucker” at the end but I kept it to myself.

He knew he owed me. I didn't bother waiting to see him get off the couch; I glanced over at Eli once more before I turned around. He was clenching his fists and staring at Brandon like he could kill him by looks alone. I passed Sacha on the way out, circling his wrist quickly with my thumb and index finger as best as I could. I didn't meet his eyes, but it wasn't because I was embarrassed that he'd learned that I'd been dumped, much less over the phone. It happens to every girl. I think. Maybe without the phone part. Touching Sacha was more to just tell him that I was fine. That I wasn’t going to do anything I’d end up regretting.

In no time, Brandon was tumbling out of the bus after me, closing the door behind him. Four months had passed since the last time I’d seen him and of course he looked exactly the same: his dark hair was perfectly styled, the facial hair that he kept just long enough to be called a beard the same as always, and his body was still just muscular enough to be considered fit. Was he good looking? Yeah, but who cared? I could go online and find thousands of guys that were just as equally, if not more, attractive as him.

I could look at the guys on tour with me.

Brandon stopped and crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes boring into mine. "Gaby, I'm—"

"Shut up."

Brandon’s eyes widened at my snappy tone, and I didn’t miss the way his shoulders reeled back in surprise. “Why are you being like this?”

Why was I being like this? Seriously? “Are you joking? Or are you really asking me why I’m pissed off that you’re here?”

“This isn’t a joke,” he replied.

“Of course it isn’t a fucking joke. You’re here, and you shouldn’t be. What’s difficult to understand about that?” I snapped.

“Baby, you’ve always been so sweet—”

My vision went red. He’d gone there with the b-word. Holy fuck.

“This isn’t how you usually act—” he kept going, oblivious to the fact he was this close to getting shanked.

Honestly, if there wasn’t steam coming out of my ears, I would have been surprised.

This isn’t how you usually act.

Baby, you’ve always been so sweet.

Gaby, what are you doing with your life?

I can’t do this anymore…

Everyone had his or her breaking point, and I’d reached mine.

“You broke up with me! On the phone! Out of the blue! All you said was that you didn’t want to do this anymore and some shit about me not knowing what I want to do with my life and how it affected your artistic vibe, you prick. I spent two years with you—two years! And in five minutes you kick me out of the place you had asked me to move into with you six months before. I’d told you I didn’t want to live with you and you told me how much fun it would be, how much you loved me, how it was inevitable. Six months, Bran! What the fuck?”

Under normal circumstances, I wasn’t one to go on a rant or a tirade of any sort. Well, unless it was around my family members or Laila. But the words had been bottled up deep in my chest for months now. All the questions and the frustration over what had happened to my doomed relationship just exploded out of me in this hateful, screaming demand.

To give him credit, Brandon put his hands on his forehead and sighed, his gaze going down to the ground. “I did love you. I’ll probably always love you, in a way. You’re great—”