The Trouble

by Daria Defore

  Table of Contents

  The Trouble

  Book Details

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  The Trouble

  Daria Defore

  Danny Kim is the frontman of a Seattle indie rock band. He's also struggling to graduate from college. After rudely hitting on a cute guy at one of his concerts, he gets in even deeper trouble when the guy proves to be the TA of his accounting class.

  Though Jiyoon clearly would prefer never to see Danny again, a rough breakup brings them unexpectedly together and a tentative friendship forms. But Danny can barely keep his band afloat and pass all his classes, nevermind learn how to make time for what is rapidly becoming the most important person in his life.

  The Trouble

  By Daria Defore

  Published by Less Than Three Press LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.

  Edited by Amanda Jean

  Cover designed by Aisha Akeju

  This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.

  First Edition November 2016

  Copyright © 2016 by Daria Defore

  Printed in the United States of America

  Digital ISBN 9781620048979

  Print ISBN 9781620049242

  To Austin, for always driving me to write more and better. To Amanda, for rightfully beating the pulp out of this book. And to my mom, for always being a champion of my weird self! I love you.

  Chapter One

  Danny had flirted with fans before, but he'd never done so quite this badly.

  "Did he look up from his phone once?" his best friend, Sam, asked. The four members of The Trouble had just come backstage after a phenomenal set at one of Seattle's divey college bars.

  "No," Danny admitted. During their last song, he had very suavely stood at the edge of the small stage, leaning meaningfully towards the cute stranger at the bar and serenading him. It hadn't quite had the pants-dropping effect he had wanted. And sure, as a self-styled punk rock band, they didn't really do serenades, but Danny figured he deserved at least a little recognition for his efforts. After all, with the size of this place, the bar was barely twenty feet away from the stage. The guy could've at least spared him a glance.

  "Are you sure he's even a fan?" Sam, ever the skeptic, was frowning at him. Danny had known her since high school, and was well aware that Sam had seen Danny embarrass himself in more ways than he could count. Sam was probably counting, though.

  "Dude, he comes to all our shows."

  "Uh, sure he does." Their guitarist, Lei, slipped behind the curtain. He was carrying a beer, and his tan skin was still shiny with sweat from the heat of the stage lights. "With his boyfriend."

  "What?" Danny said flatly.

  "He's not our fan. His boyfriend is."

  "Hold up." Danny raised his hand. Sam was kneeling down to put away her bass guitar, and using her chin-length hair to hide a smile. "Not a fan."

  "Nope."

  "But on the other hand… not straight?"

  "Pretty much."

  "Boyfriend."

  "Yeah, dude. They're together at every show. And they're holding hands and shit. I can't believe you didn't notice."

  Danny leapt for the edge of the curtain and peered around it. Sure enough, Cute Stranger was sitting at the bar with a phone in his right hand and his boyfriend's hand clasped in his left. Danny took a deep breath and retreated. Lei was looking remarkably pleased with himself.

  "Well?"

  "Well, they weren't holding hands when I was singing to him."

  "That's a poor excuse," Sam said. "I thought you had your eye on him for a while?"

  "Yeah, on him, not on the general vicinity. Whatever. This is perfect."

  "Really?" Sam cocked an eyebrow. "Why in the world?"

  "One, he's not straight. Two, he's got an ugly boyfriend. And I'm a rock star."

  "He's not that bad," Victor piped up. He was still disassembling his drum set, and a pair of drumsticks stuck out of the back pockets of his baggy jeans. "I saw him earlier."

  "Shut up, Vick. You're straight."

  "He's ugly," Lei confirmed.

  "Oh, for goodness' sake, let me see." Sam pushed them both out of the way to peer out from behind the curtain. It didn't take her long to conclude, "I've seen worse."

  Danny's victory dance was cut short when Sam continued, "For example, I've seen Danny first thing in the morning."

  "Oh, come on. Low blow."

  Lei grabbed Danny by the arm and dragged him away from the curtain and further into the cramped, dingy backstage area. The next band had to get ready for their set, and The Trouble weren't doing anyone any favors by hanging around. Meanwhile, poor Victor was left alone with the drums.

  "I bet you can't even get that guy to talk to you for a minute. Hell, I bet—" Lei had a gleam in his brown eyes that promised no good would come of this, "—that he won't even recognize you."

  "Oh, you're on."

  Sam swooped in on them like an angel of death, or of responsibility. She had quite a bit of height on them and a habit of looming, so the effect was very intimidating. "And I'll remind you that he's actually dating that guy. As charming and hot as you might mistakenly think you are—"

  "I have a mirror, thanks, I know."

  Sam fixed him with a glare. "Do not try to break them up."

  "I'm not! Jeez, I'm aromantic, I'm not a…" He struggled for words.

  "Don't say you're not a douchebag. You know you're perfectly capable of being a douchebag," Sam said pointedly.

  "Okay, fair. I'm going to flirt. Harmlessly flirt. Win a bet—"

  "Taking out the trash for a week," Lei put in, before Danny continued.

  "And if he decides, you know, he'd rather chill with a rock star than date that rando, that's not my problem."

  "Oh, we're rock stars now? Is that why we're betting on trash duty?" Sam smirked.

  "Just 'cause we're not rich doesn't mean we're not stars. Don't be so hard on yourself." It only took a second for Danny to quail under Sam's critical look. "Okay, whatever, we're kinda famous on Cap Hill. That should be good enough." Danny pulled his hair tie out and gave his hair a tousle, and then he grabbed one of their CDs off the stack and waved it in the air. "I'm going in."

  Cute Stranger was sitting alone again when Danny slid beside him at the bar. He had a mega resting bitch face thing going on and didn't look like he belonged at this concert at all. He wasn't anywhere close to being the only Asian guy there—The Trouble usually drew in a pretty diverse crowd. But in a sea of punks with colorful styled hair and a riot of flannel and piercings, this guy stuck out like a sore thumb with his neatly trimmed black hair, navy blue sweater, and khakis. He also wasn't looking up from his phone, even when the next band's first song started blasting from the speakers.

  "Hey," Danny said, with a face like a rock star.

  Cute Stranger glanced at him. "Hey?"

  Then he turned back to his phone with renewed intensity. Danny waited a good minute
for the recognition to sink in. It had to; this guy had literally been to every concert they'd done in the past two months. Even the ones down in Tacoma, where literally no one ever wanted to go.

  It wasn't that the crowds at their concerts were small, either. The Trouble had been steadily gaining in popularity, at least in the tight little corridor of the Puget Sound.

  But Danny had a decent memory for faces, and an even better one for cute faces. He didn't always know what to do about that. He was aromantic, never had felt romantic attraction to anyone and never would. But physical, sure. And friendship—hell yes.

  He could definitely see himself being friends with a cute-but-mean person who went to all The Trouble's shows. Or making out, before and after said shows. Whatever.

  Still, the guy was really not on top of the "realizing the frontman of the band is right next to you" thing. So Danny brought out the CD and set it on the bar. Then he tapped it on the bar with a sigh, like he was waiting for his drink to come. Finally, he cracked.

  "You know, I don't usually do this, but I noticed you at a lot of our concerts so… here." Danny held out the CD. "It's our first EP."

  Cute Stranger slowly, slowly looked up again and knit his brows together. "Oh. You're giving me that?"

  "Yeah, sure. Whatever. Hey, you know what? Why don't I sign it for you—" He produced a felt-tip pen from his back pocket and flipped the CD open. The inside of the jacket was a particularly good picture of himself, looking disheveled and fuckable. "Who am I signing it for?"

  "Uh… Devin, I guess."

  "Devin…" Danny stuck his tongue out and started signing in his best and most ornate handwriting: "To Devin—"

  "Wow, thanks. He'll love that."

  Danny's pen squeaked to a stop. "He?"

  "Devin. My boyfriend."

  Danny grimaced at the ruined CD. "And what's your name?"

  "Are you seriously hitting on me right now?" Cute Stranger gave him a flat look.

  "I mean, yeah, but I really like to do right by our fans, so—"

  "Look, I'm sorry, but I'm not really your fan. My boyfriend drags me to all these shows, so that's why you see me all the time."

  "All right, now I know he has great taste in music. What kind of music do you like?"

  "You don't actually care." Cute Stranger ducked his head and started texting again.

  "Seriously, what kind of music?"

  "Bad music. Pop. Not your kind of music." Cute Stranger rolled his eyes.

  "Wanna go to a concert sometime?"

  "Did you hear me when I said I had a boyfriend?"

  "Okay, but considering how into my band he is, he probably won't mind if we hook up, right?"

  Cute Stranger's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "What?"

  "Alternately, do you feel like that whole relationship has kinda run its course, or—" Danny choked as Cute Stranger splashed his drink in his face and then, after a moment of consideration, slapped him for good measure.

  "Asshole," he muttered as he stalked away.

  "You forgot your CD!"

  *~*~*

  "You really deserved that."

  "Thanks, Sam. I wasn't really sure if I had been kicked around enough today, but you're right. I totally fucking deserved that."

  "Guys? Help?" Victor and Lei clattered their way to doorstep of the band's tiny shared apartment, laden with drums, cymbals, and Lei's guitar.

  "You did." Sam dropped her keys on the hook and held the door open for Victor and Lei. She could still manage to berate Danny from that position.

  "Maybe I came on a little strong—"

  "A total jerk."

  "Technically, he assaulted me." Danny pointed to his cheek, where there would've been a bruise or at least some kind of mark if that cute guy had hit him hard at all. Sam crossed her arms and gave him a no-bullshit look that always reminded Danny of his mother. Only his mother had a cute-and-short thing going on, and Danny had inherited her size. Sam was all height and cheekbones.

  "I'm taking the shower first. Let me know if the police have any questions about your assault. I'll tell them everything." She swept into the bathroom with an absurd amount of grace, weaving around Victor and shutting the door behind her.

  "Guys!" Victor let the bass drum roll over with a crash, wheezing. "You coulda helped us carry that stuff, you know."

  Lei, never one to pull punches, shoved the snare drum into Danny's chest and flopped down on the couch. "Your turn to put the shit away."

  "I think it was a good show," Victor chirped. He kindly took the snare from a flabbergasted Danny and stowed it in the corner with the rest of his kit. "And good turnout, too. It seems like there are more people every time, right?"

  "Yeah, if Danny doesn't ruin it by hitting on all our fans. Oh, and speaking of, remember you're on trash duty." Lei shot Danny a smile and a peace sign.

  "Okay, first of all, he wasn't even our fan—" Danny let out a yelp as a flying pillow hit him in the face.

  "And I told you so!"

  Danny launched the pillow back at Lei, who rebounded on an innocent Victor. "And secondly, don't tell me you wouldn't do the same if you saw a cute guy at every fucking one of our shows for two months straight. Well, okay, not you, Vick."

  Vick was still nodding patiently. "I mean, sure."

  "He had a boyfriiiiiiiiiiend," Lei sang as he sprawled over the entire couch. "And even if I had gone for it, I wouldn't have fucked it up as bad as you did."

  "What d'you mean? I asked an honest question, and now I smell like a bar rag."

  "Danny, you're carrying the drums back to campus tomorrow, right?"

  Vick and Lei both grinned at him expectantly. Danny groaned and sank to his knees.

  Chapter Two

  Despite Danny's big talk (and big hopes and dreams), every member of The Trouble was still a student at the University of Washington. Danny and Sam, who had known each other since middle school, had plotted to end up there together.

  Not for the majors in particular. Or even for the campus, as pretty as it was with all the brick buildings and the cherry trees that blossomed in the Quad every spring. What they wanted most of all was proximity to Seattle and the music scene.

  Sam was a bit of a dichotomy. She was unfailingly practical and goal-focused, and yet somehow in senior year of high school, when Danny had said, "Hey, what if this band thing was like, a real thing?" she had stayed on board.

  Well, she had thought about it for a good week. But the point was, Sam was still there, and she had been instrumental in getting their parents' support.

  In their freshman year, Sam had turned all her practical abilities towards getting them shows at local coffee shops and the greasiest of all-ages hipster joints. By their second year, Lei and Victor had joined them.

  Both were a year younger than Danny and Sam, but they hadn't flinched at either a) Sam's terrifying glares or b) Danny, so it seemed like Fate. Plus, with the exception of Victor, they were all queer, which went a million miles toward making Sam and Danny more relaxed. They knew if being queer were ever an issue for a label or promoter, there would be no debate to be had within the band. They had each others' backs.

  That summer they had kept their noses to the grindstone, making sure they took advantage of the rare good weather in Seattle to get seen and heard. Now, in Sam and Danny's senior year of university, it seemed like things were starting to pick up speed.

  Except that they still didn't have storage space for their gear, aside from the basement in UW's music building.

  So the morning after the disastrous flirting incident, Sam and Danny set out with armfuls of black bags that held Vick's cymbals and drums and Sam's bass guitar.

  "I can't believe you roped me into this," Sam grumbled.

  "I can't believe we both registered for Intro to Accounting," Danny huffed in reply. "This quarter is going to suck."

  "If you're going to complain about it, just transfer to a different math credit. And ruin our perfectly aligned schedules. It's n
ot like we need time to practice with the band or anything."

  "Hey, I didn't complain when Lei said he had to take poli-sci. I mean, I'm complaining now, but… okay, never mind." Danny zipped his lips and bought Sam a thank-you coffee after they dropped the instruments off—a vanilla latte loaded with sugar and whipped cream.

  They took their seats, and Danny got out his notebook and a pen, absolutely prepared to pretend to take notes. The professor droned through roll call and then brought up the syllabus on an archaic projector. He was halfway through and Danny was halfway asleep when the door to the classroom opened. Danny caught sight of a short, straight-backed young Asian guy in slacks and a nice sweater who waved hello to the professor. Cute, he thought, and then, shit. He sunk all the way down in his seat.

  "Sam!" he whispered from the safety of nearly under the desk. "Is that who I think it is?"

  Sam craned her neck over the next row of people, and then her expression morphed into a devilish grin. "Oh yes," she whispered back.

  "Everyone, this is the class TA, Mr. Jiyoon Lee. He'll be leading your study groups and supplemental lectures." Professor Weaver waited for the room to finish saying a lackluster hello, and then he continued going through the syllabus. Danny stayed hunkered down, wondering how long it would take for his death to find him.

  "Are you afraid of him?" Sam leaned over to whisper.

  "He can't know I go here! If he finds out I'm a student, I'll look so fucking lame."

  Sam rolled her eyes. "I don't think he was ever in danger of finding you cool. Sit up. People are looking."

  Slowly, Danny slid back to a regular position. Jiyoon was standing at the front of the room, sipping a cup of coffee. Danny cringed as he watched Jiyoon scan the crowd and finally—yep. They locked eyes, and Jiyoon's eyebrows inched minutely toward his hairline. Danny ducked and pretended to be taking some serious notes. When he chanced a glance up, Jiyoon was surreptitiously poring over the open class roster, one finger tracing over the pictures on the sheet.

  "Oh, shit."

  "What?"

  "He's gonna see my ID picture. I was in between haircuts. It's so ugly."

  "I'm going to quit the band," Sam muttered between gritted teeth.