Dear Diary,

Rodrigo's band was riding a performance high after the concert that night in New Mexico, and I was proud of how well he sang. It had been a wild show; the arena sold out, and because Rodrigo was sober, his voice sounded tremendous. Every time the stage lights flashed over the sea of swaying bodies, I could see their waving arms, chanting right along with him. It was intoxicating. Despite his flaws, Rodrigo always knew how to command a crowd, and the concert energy carried over to the hotel.

Everyone was having a good time as musicians, groupies, and roadies weaved in and out of our room. The entire floor had become one giant celebration, with doors wide open, music playing, beer cans scattered, and half-naked women running wild down the hallway as band members chased them. Rodrigo draped his arm around me while people played drinking games, and things continued to feel normal between us.

"Having a good time, baby?" he whispered, kissing my temple.

"Yes." I smiled and laced my arms around him, hugging him tightly.

We remained that way, holding each other and exchanging kisses between cheering for the beer-pong players. Rodrigo had been so good that week, only drinking a couple of beers a night, and I didn't see him doing any drugs. We stood there nursing our beers, and any time someone passed a joint our way, Rodrigo waved it off. My heart swelled each time, and I'd squeeze him tighter. At that moment, I thought things were changing. I thought perhaps he'd had enough of the hard partying.

"Come on, Carmela, let's play this next round," Rodrigo said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together.

"Let's do it!"

As we set up the table for the next round, I glanced around the room, my hands arranging the cups. Ben was in the corner surrounded by groupies, including Melody, as she draped herself on Leo's arm. Except Ben's green eyes were on me. I looked away, shifting my attention back to the game at hand, and began tossing ping-pong balls into our opponent's cups.

We were down to the last round, and I landed the target, beating the other team. Rodrigo pulled me into an embrace, hollering how we won, and lifted me off the ground. When he set me back down, he planted a big sloppy kiss.

"This is my wife," he shouted, pointing so everyone could see.

"We know, man." David, the drummer, rolled his eyes.

"Want to go again?"

"Absolutely!" I grinned.

"Who wants to go against the champs?" Rodrigo asked, doing a semi-circular, the veins and tattoos curling up his skinny, outstretched arms.

"We will." Melody stepped forward, pulling Leo with her, his shaggy blonde locks sweeping behind his ears.

"Alright! We're going to whoop your asses. Right, baby?" Rodrigo wrapped an arm around my waist and pressed a kiss to my nose. "Love you."

"Aw, such cute little love birds," Melody purred and then frowned. "It's too bad you're gonna lose to Leo and me."

"We'll see about that!" Rodrigo drummed the table and began arranging the cups.

People gathered around to watch us face-off, and I rubbed his shoulders, getting him hyped for the round to begin. It all felt so normal-like that first month together, playing pool in smoke-filled bars. But when Rodrigo reached for the ping-pong ball, his hand trembled, and I remembered what Ben said by the pool, how he was trying so hard not to drink like a fish-to look good for me.

My stomach sank. Our terrible moments kept devouring the good ones.

"Want in on some of this?" Leo asked, and I swung my attention towards him, where he pinched a tiny bag of white powder between his fingers.

"No, I'm good." Rodrigo waved him off.

"Aw, come on, man. This is some good shit," Leo insisted. "Do a tiny bump. It won't kill you."

"The coke won't, but maybe his sweet thing will," David teased.

"Sounds to me like you're pussy whipped," Leo smirked, and everyone around us watched on as if we were a telenovela.

"Or just a pussy," David snorted.

"Fuck off!" Rodrigo's arm slipped from my waist, and he rounded the table. "I do what I want."

"Hell yeah!" Leo poured the powder onto the flat surface, his finger flicking the tiny bag, releasing every crumb. He cut a few lines, and I watched, blinking at the sight unfolding before me. How could I have been so silly to think Rodrigo ditched the hard drugs? Or that he would stand firm when offered? Especially when everyone around us was smoking pot, slamming shots, or snorting their own lines of coke.

From across the ping-pong table, Melody locked gazes with me. Sometimes she could be so beautiful, and that night she was wearing a white faux fur vest over a gold mini dress, her blonde bob styled in beach waves, and her smokey eye shadow enhancing her blue irises. However, her beauty faded when she shrugged at me and bent over to snort a line.

"Come on, Carmela, these have your name on them," Leo urged while cutting a couple more lines.

"No, that's ok." I shook my head.

"Don't be such a square." Melody straightened, wiping her nose. "Remember what I said about having fun?"

"I don't want any."

"It's fine. More for us then," Rodrigo replied and inhaled the powder meant for me.

Needing to escape the nightmare, I stepped back, and the small crowd swallowed me. That's when a hand wrapped around mine, giving it a slight tug, and when I looked up, Ben was right there. He pulled me through the room, weaving around everyone, and we slipped through the door. I expected Rodrigo to storm after me, but when I glanced over my shoulder, he was too busy inhaling more drugs. But Melody saw me, smiled, and shifted her body so that it would block his line of sight.

I don't know why she was covering for me, but I wasn't going to stick around to ask.

Out in the hallway, Ben didn't let go as he guided us past musicians, barreling themselves into towers of empty beer cans like bowling balls. Every few feet, we had to sneak around groupies making out with roadies, but when we walked past an open room, we froze at the sight of people having an orgy. They looked blitzed out of their minds, and it sounded like they were having a good time, but it was just one more nightmare in Rodrigo's crazy world.

Ben tugged my hand. "Let's keep moving."

We picked up the pace again, only to pass another room-the door cracked enough to see two musicians. One was preparing heroin on a spoon while the other strapped a belt above his brachial vein.

"I think I'm in hell. Please, get me out of here." I squeezed his hand.

"Say no more!"

Curling an arm around my waist, he pulled me close to his side and pushed us through the exit. We burst into the stairwell, clomping down the steps as if the building were on fire, and when we made it outside, we inhaled a deep breath. A laugh bubbled from my throat, its sound escaping my mouth in a cold fog as the moonlight gleamed across Ben's tall frame. He smiled as if we'd done something naughty but then extended his hand to me, his fingers flexing.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"Yes." I nodded and threaded my fingers through his.

We walked down the busy Albuquerque sidewalk with traffic zipping past, their tail lights a blur. Holding hands felt natural as if we'd done it all along. As if Ben were mine instead of Rodrigo. I didn't even consider how wrong it was because oI felt safe with him. His hand was so much larger than mine. In fact, everything about him was bigger than me, from his arms to his legs, and I had to crane my neck to smile at him. But I liked it. Rodrigo was only a few inches taller than me, and when we hugged, I didn't have the same sense of security as I did with Ben holding my hand.

A neon diner sign flashed at us, so we waited at the traffic light and crossed when it was safe. He opened the door for me, and the cold waft of air-conditioning brushed my bare limbs. I shivered, prompting him to place his hands on my shoulders, rubbing them while we waited for the hostess.

After a quick greeting, we got escorted to a semicircular booth in the empty diner, forcing us to slide in next to each other. The cheap burgundy vinyl seat squealed beneath us. It felt like a date, and suddenly I was nervous, but Ben was always so calm.

"I don't think I've ever seen you angry," I said, bumping his shoulder with mine.

"Who has time to be angry? I'd rather feel amazing, and if I don't, I figure out why and fix it."

"That easy, huh?"

"Yep." He unfolded the menu. "You're in control of your life, Carmela. Not Rodrigo."

"Who said he is?" I scowled, and Ben tapped the gold band around my finger, so I moved my hand onto my lap, hiding it. "That doesn't mean he controls me."

"No?"

"No. We're a partnership. A team."

"If that were true, you would've stayed behind and done drugs with him. However, if you were truly a team, he wouldn't be doing that shit at all. Especially since he knows it upsets you. Then again, he was doing it before you came along, and he'll probably keep doing it until his nose falls off."

"I know you say he won't, but maybe he'll change..."

"Maybe." Ben shrugged. "But I know enough addicts to know they have to want to change. It can't be for anyone else. They have to do it for themselves. Otherwise, it won't stick."

"Sounds like you've been down this road before."

"Yeah, I have, but we didn't come here to talk about heavy shit. We came here to escape."

"Escape, huh?" I eyed him. "I know why I left the hotel, but why did you?"

He closed the menu, leaned back, and stared at me. "Because I didn't want you wandering alone."

"And my safety is important to you?"

"I don't care about anyone else on tour." He shrugged. "Everyone is either too drunk, high as fuck, or up their own asses. But it's different with you. I like what we've got."

There were so many emotions exploding like fireworks in my chest that I didn't know how to respond. What was he saying?

"And what do we have?" I stared at the menu, my fingers folding and unfolding the corner. Ben placed his hand on mine, stopping me from disfiguring it.

"I think it's fair to say what we've got is something meaningful. It doesn't have a definition, but it's a relationship, and I like it. Or am I getting ahead of myself?"

"No..." I swallowed, my thighs sticking and unsticking from the vinyl as I adjusted myself on the squeaky seat.

"So, how about we order something? I bet you're starving."

And yes, I was starving.

Starving for him to kiss me.

It was past two in the morning, yet we stuffed our faces with calamari, onion rings, fries, and potato skins. And for dessert, we shared apple pie with vanilla ice cream. It was so easy with him as we sat there chatting about a mystery thriller we began reading together. Ben had all these theories about how it would end, but I had a gut feeling the killer was the neighbor.

By the time we left, our bellies were full and aching from laughing about some of the backstage shenanigans that occurred that week, like the roadie who fell asleep and woke up with a dick painted on his face.

However, every step toward the hotel only brought us closer to our reality. We had this meaningful thing between us that existed in a bubble, and we were two people stealing time together. Stepping foot in the hotel would burst that bubble. I'd return to Rodrigo, and Ben would go back to watching me from afar until our next stolen moment.

The hotel sign glared at us from twenty feet ahead, and he squeezed my hand, bringing us to a stop.

"I'm not ready," he said.

"What do you mean?"

He glanced down, his green eyes tracing my mouth-the gears in his head visibly whirling as he licked his lips. The pandemonium from the hotel must have died because as we stood there, we only had the whoosh of early commuter traffic as company. We were in our little bubble where only we existed.

I didn't want it to end either.

Wrapping an arm around my waist, he pulled me towards a tree on the sidewalk, its trunk wide enough to hide us. He pressed me against it and took my face in his hands before closing his mouth over mine. It was a lifetime before he moved his lips, but when they parted, I felt the first brush of his tongue, and everything around us faded. He tasted like onion rings, but I didn't care as his large hands tightened on my waist, lifting me. My converse left the pavement, and I fastened myself around him.

It was like the first time we kissed, but so much more. Our feelings had grown, and the desire I now felt came from deep within my heart. It flared like a supernova-a burst of wild beauty careening into the universe.

I wanted to hold onto it forever.

But then the kiss stopped. He set me down, and his hands left my waist as he stepped back. A breeze swept between us, causing a shiver to crawl up my torso in the absence of his warm body.

"I should get you back before your carriage turns into a pumpkin."

"Right..." I furrowed my brows, pushing off the tree and smoothing down my shirt.

As we walked back, he didn't hold my hand, but our knuckles kept brushing, taunting us to connect again. His silence spurred paranoia as I wondered if I'd done something wrong to create such a shift in his mood?

We took the elevator to our floor and stood on opposite sides, a wall of quiet between us. There were still a few people lingering on our level, their inebriated tongues fumbling over words as they attempted sleepy conversation. Ben walked with me to my room, and I expected Rodrigo to be waiting in the doorway-perhaps even scold me for disappearing. Except he wasn't.

Ben halted outside the door. So I took one last look at him over my shoulder before stepping inside, and then I felt it.

His index finger caressed my pinky before curling around it. "Night, Carmela."

"Night," I whispered and pushed through the door.

Just one touch and I knew the flames intensifying between us could never be smothered like a campfire.