That had Mase grinning. “Since you left last time, Flabs. Shit, I don’t want to piss you off too much either. That whole thing sucked.” He paused and gave me what could have been considered a bashful look if it had lasted longer than a second. “How many months did we go before you started talking to us again?”

“A few,” I answered almost guiltily. Then again, what did I have to feel guilty about? They’d opened their fat traps and said something that wasn’t their business to tell. “I missed you guys too but—“

“I know we fucked up.”

We looked at each other in silence. There really wasn’t much to say after that. It was the first time any of them had completely acknowledged that they’d done something to hurt my feelings. I’d pretty much woken up one day and decided to forgive them for being assholes. I was tired of being mad, and honestly, I really had missed them.

The next time I saw them at my parent’s house during Thanksgiving, no one brought up what they’d done, and we went on as if that night had never happened. In reality, they’d told the members of the two other bands we’d been touring with that I was going to get breast implants because I had “one small one and one big one,” as I remember very clearly. They’d laughed afterward, drunk and high out of their minds, unaware that I’d overheard.

It wasn’t even them telling people I was going to get surgery and implants that bothered me. Who cared if they knew? I wasn’t ashamed; I’d been ecstatic to finally be able to take this next step. What had reached deep within my soul and made me cry my eyes out in the venue bathroom for ten minutes straight, was that they’d laughed. They’d laughed at something that had bothered me so much for so long. I didn’t know of anyone else who had been called “deformed” at the age of thirteen at camp and then laughed at. No one understood what it was like to never be able to wear tank tops unless the neckline was high, or trying to find bras or bathing suits that could be easily manipulated with padding so that my irregularity wouldn’t be so noticeable. I never let anyone but my doctor see my chest, ever. Not even in a bra. I didn’t even let my mom or Rafe see me in a bra. Brandon had been the first person since my plastic surgeon and my gynecologist that saw my breasts since we’d started dating shortly after I’d gotten them worked on.

And these three guys that I loved and that I knew loved me back, had laughed at my expense in front of other people.

So yeah, I wasn’t going to apologize for not speaking to them for a few months. They’d deserved it. Since then, years had passed, and I wasn’t about to bring it up more than necessary.

Mase smiled, as if sensing exactly what I was thinking, and patted the seat next to him. “Come here. Come sit next to someone who loves your wino ass.”

“I’m not a wino.”

He shot me a look. “You were drinking straight from the bottle, sitting in the dark watching one of your favorite movies. You’re really going to tell me you’re not?”

The fact he knew Sabrina was one of my favorite movies didn’t escape me, but still. I blinked. “Don’t judge me.”

“Too late.”

That made me laugh. Before I could think twice, I got up and sat next to him, leaning into his shoulder with a resigned sigh. “I’m so stupid.”

Did he assure me I wasn’t dumb? Of course not. “No shit, Sherlock.” He patted my knee. “If it makes you feel any better, I wasn’t surprised. After me, he’s the best-looking guy on the tour,” the modest ass explained. “The guy’s a pussy magnet, Flab. You know girls love singers. Gordo has to beat the girls off with a stick and he doesn’t even like them. And he’s an ugly motherfucker. What does that say?”