chapter four Lonely hotel room; always a single next to Hanson. Could hear Taylor with his addiction in the next room. Zac, on her couch, head in her lap, shirtless, hard nipples. Where was Isaac? Disappeared after the concert, mumbled something about meeting a friend. "You're warm," Zac whispers, a lie. The hotel room is always cold. Anywhere. She was warm with desire. Maybe. Definitely. They sit in silence, like they always do. Comfort in the moans next door. "I hate him." They said it at the same time. Comfort again, this time in their synchronicity.

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