“Would you do it?”
My eyebrows crease. “Do what?”
His eyes trail over to Ari, then back at me. “Would you sacrifice everything if you thought it would keep him safe?”
“Yes,” I say immediately, like it’s obvious. Itisobvious.
Then I take a moment to really think about it, blinking back at Naz. I blow out a breath. “Probably. Although I have been making an effort not to make snap decisions like that. To give him a choice in the matter.”
Naz chuckles humorlessly. “When you say it like that, it sounds like you still think you’re the authority.”
I wince, but don’t protest, because it’s true. Just look at the shit I’ve gotten myself into with the Don situation. Weeks have passed since I saw him, and so far he seems to have taken my warnings seriously, but what if he gets cocky or desperate?
I’ve made excuses to myself about why I haven’t talked to Ari about it. Too much time has passed. I don’t want to take his peace away. We’ve been so wrapped up in the odd domestic bliss we’ve cultivated to focus on anything outside of it. But it’s all bullshit, and my lie by omission has been festering in the background of our happiness.
Ari is strong and capable, he deserves to make decisions that pertain to his life and privacy himself. I just don’t want him to have to deal with this shit.
“Whatever it is,” Naz says, pulling his hoodie down over his eyes, “just get it over with. You don’t want to lose him now that you’ve got him.”
I freeze, my spine straightening, and peek back at him with only my eyes.
Naz scoffs and pulls the edge of his hoodie back up enough to expose his eyes. “Dude, you two aren’t even subtle. Always looking at each other with those damn fuck-me eyes. Not to mention I came by the other day to see if you wanted to go downstairs to workout, and I could hear you fucking through the door—all the way down the hallway.”
“Scott didn’t tell you?”
“What?” His nose scrunches. “Scott knew? That fucker.” He grins wryly. “But no, he didn’t have to tell me. You’re a fucking screamer, dude.”
I scowl. “Oh yeah? Does Scott make you scream?”
“Nah,” Naz says. “I make him scream. But that’s what a fucking ball gag is for.”
With that last bit of life advice, he pulls his hoodie back down and settles into his chair.
I spend most of the flight working myself up to coming clean to Ari. I’ve been having practice conversations in my head, which usually end in me getting down on my knees and groveling, so I figure it’s probably best to wait until we’re alone. Although at this point, I don’t think there are many people left who don’t know about us.
“Hey,” I say, reaching across the aisle to nudge Naz with my foot when I notice him adjusting an earbud. He lifts his head to look at me. “Does Jesse know, too?”
Naz shrugs. “I dunno. I don’t think so, he’s been pretty preoccupied. But to be honest, dude, I don’t think anyone would be all that surprised. You two have always been a little…” He tilts his hand side to side.
“A little what? What does that mean?”
“Just that y’all have been skirting around this shit since we were like sixteen. Probably earlier for Ari, but you’ve always been kind of dense when it came to him.”
“Rude.”
“Truth hurts, bro. Now shut up, I want to finish this audiobook before rehearsals start.”
I peek over at his phone screen to see what he’s listening to, but all I can see is a blue background with a hockey player and some yellow script. I can’t read the title from here, but I’m irrationally annoyed that he’s calm enough to listen to smut right now.
By the time we land in Miami, I wish I’d been able to nap or at least turn my brain off for a little while. We’re immediately pulled into meetings about the set list, when the various dancers and other artists are arriving, wardrobe, and everything else to prepare for the biggest show we’ve ever played in the shortest amount of time we’ve ever performed.
It’s astonishing how much effort goes into a show that is less than fifteen minutes long. Our set is thirteen minutes and fifty-two seconds exactly. Add to that all the imagery, background performers, contributing artists, pyrotechnics, and aerial acrobatics Jesse is somehow going to pull off—there’s a lot of choreography involved to get it right. That’s not even taking into account the rapid setup and breakdown of the stage, props, and lighting. This production has to be calibrated with surgical precision.
Jesse doesn’t arrive until the next morning. I’m not sure what to think about how he’s behaving. It’s worrisome to be sure. He moves robotically, doing everything exactly the right way, but without the heart and soul he’s known for. It’s like someone carved the softer parts out of him and left only determination behind. He just wants to get through the show, is what he tells us. But we can see the truth behind the words—he can only holdon for this long. None of us asks how he is, because we can see, and I know from experience that acknowledging it isn’t going to help. Right now, we have a show to do, and you know what they say…
The show must go on.
We finally get a few hours of downtime a couple days before the show. We’ve all been worn ragged by the endless hours of choreography and staying by Jesse’s side in case he cracks that we’ve basically showered and passed out the moment we get to our rooms each night. Ari is with me every night, of course, but beyond a few lazy make-out sessions or quick hand jobs in the shower, I wouldn’t say we’re really communicating. We’re surviving, and later we’ll be able to look back on what I know is going to be a really awesome experience. It’s an achievement I don’t think any of us ever considered before. Hell, I don’t think anyone other than Naz and Blake were even interested in doing the show until Jesse found Luc and we all decided that it would be a good opportunity to capitalize on America’s attention.
