I nodded.

Then I took two steps forward, holding my arms out at my sides as if I was going to give him a hug… and when he started to lean in, I went onto the tips of my toes and punched him almost as hard as I could right in the throat.

He made this choking, puttering noise as he bent over at the hips, but I wasn’t looking at him any more.

When I pivoted around to head back toward the venue with vindication in my veins, I happened to look up at the windows of the bus to see my brother and Sacha with their faces pressed up against the glass, looks of amazement on their faces. I waved.

There. Now I could go to sleep tonight. Otherwise I would have lay in my bunk with my hand fisted and called myself a coward for not going for it.

The rest of the night went by pretty uneventfully. Laila had apparently made friends with Carter, from the way I found him behind the Ghost Orchid merch table, sitting right next to her. During a break between songs, she asked me loud enough for Carter to hear, “What happened?” All I said in response was, “I punched him in the throat,” which made her burst out laughing and led to Carter asking if it was Mason I punched.

Once she got herself under control right around the time Ghost Orchid went onstage, she kept slapping my shoulder when she got excited. It was a slower night than usual so I had a lot of time to watch their set and The Cloud Collision’s. Sacha moved across the stage so effortlessly and with so much energy it was electric. Even if he wouldn't have one of the most striking faces I'd ever seen, it would have been impossible to keep my eyes away from him. He was a performer in his blood.

Most importantly, he was my friend. When Gordo had stayed inside after he found out Brandon was around, Sacha had been the one to go find him with me because he was worried I would do something bad. If that wasn’t friendship, I didn’t know what was.

At some point in the middle of their set, when he usually got chatty with the audience, telling them some short story about the road or his life, I realized that if anything—Sassy, in his black pants, light blue button-up, and skinny navy tie—was a loyal bastard.

"Do you know what I hate?" he asked the roaring audience in front of him. They screamed all kinds of things in response.

"Pussy!"

Sacha shook his head and pointed in the direction of where the person had screamed. "Nope. I like that."

"Guys in skinny jeans!"

He shrugged dramatically. "Whatever, man."

A couple other people screamed other random things until he waved them off, pressing the microphone really close to his face like he was going to tell the thousand-plus people in the audience a secret. He held up one finger, which he pointed straight ahead almost as if he was pointing at me in the back.

"Pickles," he screamed and then extended his middle finger, still pointing straight ahead. "And dicks!"

Immediately, the loud bang of the bass drum picked up, signaling the start of another song.

I almost pissed my pants from laughing so hard.

* * *

I was in love with the world and with the men in my life the rest of the night.

Why hadn’t anyone told me that being loved and cared for—albeit in a strange way—could be so awesome? I felt like someone pointed a wand at me and cast a spell that was all rainbows and unicorns. My brother called Brandon a mangina, and Sacha followed that up by calling him out in front of a thousand people. What more could I ask for?

As soon as Carter and I got done loading the dolly with bins and tearing everything down, we made our way out of the venue. Laila had left minutes ago, explaining that she had to be up early for a class she was teaching and her mom didn’t want to pick her up too late. With a flurry of hugs and promises to text me the next day, I said goodbye to my best friend for the next two months.