Riffs in Time

Chapter Seventeen

"Depends," I said, crossing my arms. "Are you still gonna gloat?"

"Absolutely."

I rolled my eyes. "Then yeah, I'm still mad."

He laughed, bumping his shoulder against mine. "Fair."

The guys laughed, and as the sound settled, Gerard caught my eye with a smirk that lingered just a beat too long. It wasn't just the way we cracked dumb jokes—he was still happy. Still joking. Still in it. And I was just glad to be in it with him, not walking on eggshells or trying to decode every sigh or pause. Just... existing. Together.

When the session hit a lull, Gerard got up and headed outside. The conversation started with Frank casually asking, "So what really happened while we were gone?"

I told them everything—laser tag, dinner, Gerard being actually bearable. But as I talked, I started hitting these mental speed bumps. His relapse. That toxic relationship he hinted at. The part where he said he wasn't planning on dating anyone again. All those pieces of truth he dropped, quietly, like confessions. Stuff he never meant for anyone else to hear.

I left those out. They weren't mine to share.

But of course, they noticed.

Ray squinted. "You're hiding something."

"I'm not," I said, a little too quickly.

Frank crossed his arms. "Yana, c'mon. You're not exactly subtle. What are you not telling us?"

"I told you the important parts," I said with a forced smile.

Mikey raised an eyebrow. "And the parts you didn't tell us?"

I sighed. "Look, it's not mine to talk about."

They went quiet for a beat. Not accusatory. Just... curious. Too curious.

I needed to get out of that room. My head was spinning. The things Gerard had trusted me with were still sitting heavy in my chest, pressing against my ribs like they were trying to crawl out. And as much as I loved the guys, I wasn't sure how to draw the line between protecting someone's privacy and being honest with people I cared about.

"I'm gonna get some air," I mumbled, standing up before anyone could follow that up. Hoping the fresh air would calm the guilt curling at the edges of my brain.

The air was sharp when I stepped out the back door, the sun low enough to cast everything in that pretty, golden glow. Gerard was leaning against the wall, one foot kicked up behind him, a cigarette already between his lips. He lit it, exhaled, and looked surprised to see me.

I walked up beside him, hands stuffed in my hoodie. "You know that's gonna kill you, right?"

Gerard smirked. "That's kind of the point."

"Edgy," I said dryly. "Very emo of you."

He flicked ash onto the pavement, then glanced at me. "You ever tried one?"

"Nope." I leaned against the wall beside him. "But I'm curious."

"Wanna give it a shot?"

"Maybe," I said, heart pounding for absolutely no reason except that Gerard was standing there with half-lidded eyes and a tiny smirk like this was no big deal.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the pack, tapping one out and handing it to me. I took it, a little awkwardly, like it might combust in my hand if I held it wrong.

But when he flicked his lighter again, nothing happened.

He tried once. Twice. Click, click. Nothing but spark and frustration.