“And what about you, you fucking hypocrite?” he hissed, voice low and steady.
“What about me?”
“You can honestly sit there and try to lecture me about being not doing something about being scared when you’re literallydoing the same thing and trying to hide it from everyone?”
A lump formed in Dexter’s throat. Colin could only be talking about one thing, but he couldn’t possibly know about it.
“I…” His voice sounded so far away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you fucking do,” Colin growled and then marched over to Dexter’s keyboard, snatching up the papers there. “What’s this, Dexter, hmm? You writing your own songs here? Maybe cause, you love being in a cover band and all but you’re dyingto perform your own stuff?” Colin raised his eyebrows, lips still pursed, and Dexter couldn’t bring himself to say a word. So Colin went on. “You think I don’t know that you’re too afraid to try?”