Page 38 of The Masks We Wear (Satan’s Angels #1)

I’ve written some more of my own song but I still haven’t told anyone about it since I’m still not entirely confident in my song writing abilities, and I also don’t know if it’s going anywhere.

There still seem to be big pieces missing in both my lyrics and the piano interlude.

I know with Ivory and Aria playing their guitars the song would sound worlds better, but I haven’t mustered up the confidence to tell them about it yet.

I also like having a puzzle I have to work out on my own.

Aria hums a melody as she writes in messy, almost illegible cursive, on the crumpled up sheet of loose leaf on her thigh.

Her handwriting looks like hieroglyphics but somehow, I’m able to read it, though it used to be easier to read when I wasn’t sober.

Ivory experiments with different riffs on her bass and I tap out different beats that sound good with what she’s playing.

“Okay, check this out,” Aria hands me the sheet of loose leaf that was in her lap and I skim through the lyrics, actually liking what she came up with.

The song portrays someone coming to LA to pursue musical dreams but the city eats them alive inevitably and turns them into a super fucked up rockstar.

I love these lyrics so much I almost drool all over the paper.

“This,” I flap the paper around in the air to emphasize my point, “Is fucking amazing,” I rise from my seat, fisting my sticks in one hand.

I cup both sides of Aria’s face in my full hands, the paper and the wood of the sticks pressing into her cheeks as I look up at her, “Aria Kane, you are a fucking genius and I love you,” I praise her as I stand on my toes to kiss her cheek, dramatizing the muah sound.

Ivory excitedly strides over, swiping the sheet from my grip. She reads through it and her eyes widen as she grins, “This is killer, Six.”

I add, “Keep this up, dude. We’re almost finished. After this we only have five more.”

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ARIA SCOFFS AROUND A mouthful of chicken nuggets.

She claims greasy chicken nuggets are her brain food and she can’t write good lyrics or play good music unless she has them but we all know the truth.

Aria Kane loves chicken nuggets and just wants an excuse to eat them as a twenty-something adult.

“Get this one,” Aria flips her phone in my direction for me to read the screen.

She has Instagram pulled up with our band page’s most recent post of us at our concert last night.

More specifically, she has the comment section opened.

Mandy63: Anyone else think the rumors are true and Brody is actually pregnant? Why hasn’t she drank a drop on stage?

I roll my eyes at the comment and pretend to brush it off though my insecurities are rising to the surface below my skin.

Rockerbabe224: None of them have been drinking lol

Thank you, Rockerbabe224! She clearly has been paying attention to the entire group and not just me.

KissFanOfficial: They’re boring now. Hard to watch them. Nothing about them keeps me entertained. They just aren’t fun. I won’t be listening to them anymore.

Well, you stupid motherfucker. I think to myself. As if I would ever take anything KissFanOffical said seriously when they clearly lack good taste in music just based on their username. “Fuck that guy,” I rage as I point to the screen.

The girls read the comment too and scoff, “I’m replying,” Aria snaps as her thumbs start flying over the keyboard of her phone.

“Don’t!” Ivory grabs the phone from her hands and tosses it to the corner of the room where my very sexy babysitter is sitting, his eyes glued to me with a look of concern and a trace of amusement in his eyes.

He raises a brow at me in question and I nod as if to tell him I’m fine.

“Selene said to stay off socials and not make ourselves a spectacle,” Ivory reminds Aria.

I rise from my folded up position on the floor, wiping the dust off my baggy fitted jeans with a graffiti Japanese dragon on the left leg.

I walk over to where Harvey is seated to retrieve Aria’s phone and he bends down to grab it, handing it to me.

My fingers brush against his as I take the phone from him and immediately, fire has ignited inside my veins.

I know he feels it too based on the sultry look he gives me. “You okay?”

I nod, “Just haters being haters,” I reassure him even though deep down, I am bothered by them.

I’ve been quiet about the anxiety I’ve had from the attack and about the comments I’ve been reading, some of which have been bashing the band or just me, in fear of coming across as problematic.

I don’t want Harvey to think I’m too high maintenance and I don’t want him to worry about me.

I just want us to enjoy our limited time together, happy as we can be, before it’s too late and we go separate ways.

Then and only then will I allow myself to truly be upset and bothered by my personal issues.

I turn to walk away before he does what he does best and reads the emotions I’m feeling like he’s feeling them himself but he stops me by wrapping a hand around my wrist. “Are you forgetting how well I know you?” he asks. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

I shake my head and look down. “I don’t wanna talk about it right now.”

He hesitates before inevitably releasing my wrist and letting me return to the girls.

I give Aria back her phone with strict instructions to stay off socials and to not read hate comments while Ivory basically repeats everything I said in different words.

I navigate us back to making music, working on songs, hoping to remove the weight of what just happened but it feels like the weight leaves the room and just falls on my chest and mine alone.