“Yeah, no problem. And the offer stands, you know, if Naz gets too loud or anything.
He laughs. “All Naz does is read.”
“I know,” I say. “Still. I’m here if you need me.”
Something flickers in his eyes. Not anger. Not warmth.
Distance.
“You always are,” he says quietly. “And I appreciate that. But I’ve been working really hard on not needing you.”
His words, however gently they were delivered, have the same effect a razor edge has on paper.
I swallow the hurt down. “It looks like you’ve done well,” I manage.
He gives me a sad smile, and just like that, we’re standing on opposite sides of something neither of us knows how to cross anymore.
Things between Ari and I are awkward as we tip-toe around each other, both on our best, most polite behavior. It’s kind of excruciating for everyone involved. But at least the band dynamics are still there.
Rehearsals feel natural. We’re vibing well, and the music still clicks as well as it ever has. Maybe even better, because there’s been so much growth behind the scenes.
Well, for most of them.
Jesse is a new person. Ari is a new person. Naz is as rock-solid and steady as ever, but he’s also carrying a new, refreshing energy into our show.
I don’t quite know what to do with myself. I don’t know what my role is anymore, outside of six strings and muscle memory and the short moments when I forget that Ari isn’t mine anymore—that he never was. I don’t know how to be a person Ari doesn’tneed. It’s like all of my self-worth and purpose was wrapped around who I was to him and vice versa. I feel like I’m fading away entirely. How can I be part of his happiness when I’m the thing he had to escape to find it?
We board the plane for the next leg of the tour, business as usual, yet nothing is the same.
I watch Ari settle into his seat a few rows up, laughing with Naz, relaxed and self-assured in a way that makes my chest ache.
I’m proud of him. I also miss him and who we used to be to each other.
And I don’t know how to balance both truths at once.
TWELVE
ARI
It’s strange being back in New York with Will. This is the first time we’ve been alone together since the tour started, and the last time I was here, it was because I’d needed somewhere to run to when I left him after our fight. I think this might be good for us, though. We’ve reached an understanding in our friendship and I think we’re moving on from the pain we were causing each other.
A lot has changed. Maybe too much. All our interactions are framed with a practiced sort of consideration we didn’t have before. Both of us on our best behavior, like we didn’t grow up together and haven’t seen each other at our worst. It’s almost impersonal, and as much as I recognize we need that separation between us, I still hope we can get our sense ofusback.
The biggest difference, of course, is that I don’t depend on him for everything. Not for comfort, not for direction, not for safety. Not for anything.
I’ve slept alone every single night since I left Raleigh. The first few weeks, it felt impossible. I barely slept at all, and the less Islept, the worse the nightmares were. I almost gave up and came crawling back because I thought I couldn’t do it.
Then Jesse suggested therapy. I didn’t understand how talking to someone could help, but doing the sometimes painful work of processing why I have the nightmares in the first place helped a lot. So did the medication she prescribed me, which I was resistant to at first, but I was assured that taking non-habit-forming medications for a controlled amount of time, as prescribed by a professional, is very different from what started Jesse on a hard path.
The better I sleep and the less stress I put myself through, the quieter the demons are. The nightmares haven’t quite disappeared entirely, but they’re less vivid. When they come, I can breathe through the fear. Ground myself through the adrenaline drop. It’s easier to remind myself that I’m not a too-skinny, weak little child anymore. No one is hurting me. I’m not trapped. I’m not helpless.
It’s still not as easy as rolling over and clinging to Will, of course. And I miss the closeness.
But I can finally see how tangled everything was because of my dependence on him. How I let him comfort me in ways that weren’t fair. Even when I convinced myself that it was mutual attraction, or that he was holding back, it wasn’t okay.
I never meant to blur those lines. But intent doesn’t erase impact. The only thing I can do is be better going forward.
We’ve had some opportunities to talk a little over the past couple months. It’s been mostly surface-level conversations, but we’ve both had the chance to apologize to each other. Will seemed surprised when I apologized to him, but he wasn’t theonly one who contributed to the problems we were having or how things came to a head.
