“Time off?”
“I discussed some things with Jesse earlier, and although he was a little out of it, I think he understood the importance of focusing on his health. That starts with seeing how well he does detoxing from the medications Francis had him on, and going from there.”
“What about the label?” Naz asks. “They can’t be happy about us not recording the new album right away. They pushed for us to get back into the recording studio as soon as we finished the last leg of this tour.”
“My guess is that it was mostly Francis making those calls. He had you all booked beyond what is normal, even at your level of popularity. But it’s inconsequential, and after this drastic oversight, the label knows they’re in danger of losing their top act. I’ll be honest here, you are well within your rights to challenge your contract with them and I have made sure to remind them of that. They don’t get to call the shots after this. My priority is all of your health and well-being. Your fame andhow much more money you can continue to make for the label is secondary.”
Naz, Ari, and I exchange glances. Something like relief, tinged with a dash of apprehension, settles behind my sternum. There’s something about Blake that makes me want to trust him. It’s so foreign that I don’t trust the instinct, but I can give him a chance.
A real break?What does that even look like?
We’ve been running nonstop for almost five years. The last year especially has been brutal. We’ve been watching Jesse’s slow decline, all but expecting the worst. More and more nights have ended with Jesse passed out somewhere he shouldn’t be and having to be dragged through back entrances to get him to a safe bed without being spotted by paparazzi. We didn’t always succeed, and we’d have to listen to Francis ream us over whatever humiliating photos ended up on the front of the tabloids.
Jesse and I spent a lot of time together, and I’m not innocent. I’ve done my fair share of drugs and drinking, and we’ve shared more than one woman between us. We’ve had a lot of fun, sexy times.
But there’s nothing fun or sexy about watching one of your best friends in the world block out everything that makes them special so they can’t feel. And I know that’s what he’s been doing. I just don’t understand why, and none of us knew how to stop it.
I glance at Ari again, and guilt shoots through my chest like a hot knife beneath my ribs. We fought the night he found Jesseunconscious. It’s probably the only reason Ari came home early and how he found Jesse instead of staying out all night.
I’d been watching him. I’m always watching him. But I caused a scene again, the same way I did almost a year ago. I saw the guy he was with pull his hair and felt something ugly snap in my chest.
Why does that get to me so badly?
I don’t know. But I do know that more nights than not, I end up with Ari curled into me, my nose pressed into the back of his head or the nape of his neck, breathing in the scent of his herbal shampoo. Lavender and sage, soft and familiar. Andmine.
The thought startles me, though it shouldn’t. I’ve been struggling with this possessiveness for as long as I can remember, although it’s different now than it was when we were younger.
His hair seems to be a trigger for me. I don’t want anyone else’s hands in his hair, combing through it or nuzzling into it. And I most definitely don’t want anyone gripping him like they own him. The sight of it makes me see red, even when I know that Ari can take care of himself. That he’s consenting. That he chose to be touched that way.
Maybe this break will be a good opportunity for me to give Ari some space. I know he’s feeling claustrophobic, and I need to let him go, let him do his own thing.
The idea feels impossible the moment it forms.
We’ve been attached at the hip since we were kids. Sixteen years of shared rooms, shared beds, shared breathing. I don’t know who I am without him within arm’s reach.
I don’t know what I’d do if he wasn’t there.
I watch the heart rate monitor, the line jumping with each slow beep, steady and sure, grounding me. I don’t know what comes next, but I feel like everything is about to change. Maybe for the better, maybe not.
But as long as we all have each other, we should be okay. Right?
FOUR
ARI
I’m fifteen again. The metallic tang of hot metal mixes with the stale smell of dirt as I follow Trace Simms further under the bleachers, where it’s darker and we’re less likely to be seen.
I can’t believe this is happening. He didn’t say as much, but I can feel it coming like an inevitability. My first kiss. With Trace. It’s perfect.
I've had a crush on him since the beginning of Freshman year, when we were assigned seats next to each other in homeroom and study hall. I didn’t think he noticed me, but he did.
My heart is beating out of control when we finally stop. Trace turns to me and smiles sweetly. His hand comes up to cup my face, and he tugs my bottom lip free from my teeth. He says something, but I can’t hear most of it through the rushing in my ears.
“…our little secret.”
I nod. I understand. Technically, I never came out, but everyone seemed to know before I even figured it out. People are assholes over something I wouldn’t have chosen for myself,but I do choose to lean into it and be out and proud—mostly because it pisses off my foster dad. I’m being honest with myself, it’s also because I like the attention. I like people’s eyes on me, especially if there’s even a fraction of the appreciation I’m seeing in Trace’s eyes right now as he skims his gaze down my body. We’re both in our gym class uniforms, although unlike the basketball shorts he’s wearing, my running shorts are on the shorter side, and my shirt is snug rather than loose like his. It’s worth the ridicule from the other boys in our class just to see him look at me that way.
Trace takes a step closer to me, close enough that I can feel the heat of his body against mine. He leans in…
