“Whoareyou?” Jem blurted.
Andrew looked up, caught his eye, and flushed. Looked back down again. Then he shrugged, smiled, and held out his hand across the table. “Andrew Wentworth. Nice to meet you.”
Belatedly, Jem realized he was leaving him hanging. He wiped his palm on his jeans and shook, cautious but hopeful. “Jem,” he said. Then, feeling awkward, “Why don’t you just give me the highlights.”
River spenthalf an hour in the pool after Jem left, more because it made him feel less like the Tin Man, left out in a field to rust for a couple years, than out of any desire for exercise. After another cup of coffee and some water—Jem kept putting little chopped-up cucumbers in the pitcher in the fridge, and it was delicious and also fucking adorable and River had it bad—he felt like himself again.
And then Amanda texted to let him know they’d posted his first video, and sent him the link.
River stared at it for a few seconds, still dripping pool water on his kitchen floor. Once he clicked on it, it would become real: he was taking his first small steps out of the safety of the Flat Tires and into whoever he would be next. And once he saw the stats on the video, he’d know what people thought about it—whether they liked it enough to share it. If they clicked the little heart button. If they left a comment.
He’d never been great at impulse control. He clicked the link.
Briar had done a great job. The audio was mixed perfectly, and it never seemed contrived that the video didn’t show River’s face or Lara’s.
The clip was only forty seconds. Amanda had some market research that said they should release pieces of it over time to build interest. River had happily handed over control of everything that wasn’t related to the music itself.
It wasgood. And for something that had been created carefully to obscure his identity, it was shockingly vulnerable. All the best music had to be—you had to be genuine with listeners if you wanted them to connect with your songs—but it hit different when he was singing his own lyrics.
River watched the video four times before he closed the app. His chest felt tight, and his heart was beating too fast. He wanted to run a marathon. He wanted to crawl into bed and pull the covers over his head and not come out until TikTok had decided his fate.
He wanted to send the video to Jem and say,This is what you do to me. This is how you make me feel. This is for you.
He never wanted Jem to see it.
That was too many things to want all at one time. Instead of wallowing in them, he copied the link and sent it to Lara—thanks for the assist—and then Eric and Ward.
My wife says you’re a simp, said Eric.
So are you gonna tell Jem about your feelings or just wait until he hears you sing this on the radio?asked Ward.
Why was River upset that the band was breaking up, again?
Lara sent a series of flame emojis andhell yeah, let me know if you wanna do it again.
And then, just when he was feeling smug about having a friend who didn’t suck,Tell Jem I said hi.
Speaking of Jem, River wondered what he was doing now. Surely lunch was long over. In fact, it was getting to be near dinnertime. Was he going to leave River to fend for himself, now that River’s stomach had gotten used to Jem feeding it on a regular basis? That seemed rude.
He was debating what to do—whether it was too needy to text Jem and find out his plan, or if he should order dinner for one, or if he had a frozen pizza kicking around somewhere—when the Subaru pulled into the driveway, and he relaxed.
He didn’t want to stay in the kitchen like he was waiting for Jem to feed him, or hover around the front door like a paranoid spouse, but unfortunately the third option was just “stand around like an NPC in a video game until Jem arrives to interact with me.”
Brutal.
Maybe more perplexing, though, was that when Jem came inside, he didn’t reallynotice.
He’d looked good when he left the house this morning, River was sure. Not that he didn’t look good now, just… River hadn’t noticed the bags under his eyes before. Everything about him radiated exhaustion, but he was smiling in a soft, quiet way River rarely saw.
“Hey,” he said after a moment. “Good lunch?”
He’d gotten some sun today. Not that that was unusual in LA, but they must’ve sat outside. Jem and whoever he’d met. Jem’s nose was pink, and the tips of his ears. “Yeah,” he said after a moment, then trailed into an awkward laugh. “Yeah, actually? I was kind of expecting a train wreck.”
River held out his hands and drew Jem toward him on the couch. “What do you mean, a train wreck?” If Jem was that nervous, why hadn’t he told River about it?
“Ugh.” Jem flopped down next to him on the couch and rubbed his hands over his face. “It’s a long story.”
River had heard those words before, along with the suggestion that he should guess. He didn’t think this was a guessing kind of scenario. “I’ve got time.”
