Bleeding Hearts 
chapter II. Pegasus
Page 1 of 14
I really wasn’t expecting a yes, truth be told.
Brushing aside the curtain, I huddle against the doorway, allowing Raven to enter first before I follow. I never was much of a leader.
Inside, Raven flops onto one of the shabby sofas, removing his jacket—the black velvet one, my favourite, I notice approvingly. It’s always at least ten degrees hotter back here in this little alcove than the rest of the hotel, on account of our lead singer Monty—being from the warmer climates, he threatened to not go on at all one night until the owner had a heater installed during winter. “Just because we’re not rich and famous,” he grinned at me amiably, “doesn’t mean we can’t at least try for a little of the RS treatment, you know what I mean?” (RS meaning ‘Rock Star’ of course—Monty has this annoying habit of abbreviating anything he defines as a cliché, which can make for some pretty obscure conversations.)
“Have you changed your mind already?”
Huh?
Raven’s voice breaks me out of my internal ramblings. I realise I’m still standing in the doorway, watching him watching me. As our eyes meet, I quickly turn away, heading for the bottle of champagne on the coffee table. It’s supposed to be for after our set, but none of us ever wait that long. In Raven’s case, leaving an expensive bottle of alcohol lying around and then telling him he can’t actually drink it is like leaving a steak with a German Shepherd, then getting upset when you come back ten minutes later and it’s gone.
Besides, I can’t bear it when he looks at me with those eyes.
