Claire sniffed. “Susan and I technically haven’t broken up.”
Winter gave her a pointed look. “Right. You just haven’t talked in two years.”
“Stop changing the subject. We’re trying to fixyourlove life.”
He gave her a sly smile. “But I already loveyou.”
She waved a flippant hand at him. “See that charm coming out right there? Why don’t you make it useful?”
Winter couldn’t help laughing a little. Once upon a time, he was just an awkward-looking, unpopular high school freshman with lanky limbs and a bad haircut who spent his lunch hours alone, rehearsing dance routines in the empty gym after class, scribbling down melodies and nurturing a big dream. Then he’d booked a gig as a rookie backup dancer for Ricky Boulet—at the time, the hottest star in the world. Winter’s performance at Ricky’s opening concert had been so extraordinary that a video of him went viral overnight.
Claire, then an ambitious young associate at a management company, had seen the potential behind that video and called him the next morning to nab him before anyone else could. He was the get of the decade; she was the compass for his success. The two of them had risen together as life catapulted him from backup dancer to record deal to one of the biggest pop careers in history.
You’re going to be famous someday,his older brother, Artie, had once teased him, back when Winter was only twelve and had first started writing songs.
Winter had only laughed.You’re so optimistic.
Optimism is my hidden power,Artie had said with a smile. Then his brother had looked at him squarely.There’s a restlessness in you. A conviction that something bigger and better must be waiting further down the road.
Winter’s fingers played mindlessly with his phone. It took him a minute to realize that he was swiping it locked and unlocked, then pulling up his brother’s name before swiping it away again.
Artemis Young.
As Winter stared down at his phone, the memory returned of their final day together. Just a pair of brothers, twelve years apart in age, sitting on the edge of a pier watching the sun sink into the ocean. The salt and wind frizzed their hair. The Ferris wheel in the distance was alight with bands of blue and yellow, the colors reflecting off their faces. He could still smell the sea, could recall staring at his brother’s profile and wishing with his whole heart that Artie wasn’t leaving again the next morning.
Don’t spend your entire life searching, okay?Artie had said to him. His brother had round dark eyes where Winter’s were narrow, and wavy black hair that hung thickly over his brows, and looked so unlike Winter that no one ever guessed they were related.
What do you mean?Winter had asked.
I mean, sometimes you already have what you want. You just don’t know it yet.
Winter had nodded along without really agreeing. It was an easy thing for his brother to say. Artie was the meticulously planned son, the favorite, the one from Mom’s first marriage. Winter was the accident, the afterthought, the mistake from her second one. Maybe that was what made Artie think Winter would be famous someday. He knew that Winter craved attention, that he hungered for love every minute of every day, would seek it out to the ends of the earth. Artie had understood, even then, and pitied him for it.
Winter had shrugged at the time.All I want is to be like you,he told Artie.
Artie laughed, a rich, throaty sound that Winter was always trying to copy.Be likeyou, Winter. Be good.
Artie had worked for the Peace Corps and died. Winter had become a shallow superstar and lived. Good never won in the end.
The memory faded, along with the bits of music he was working on in his head. Winter put the phone down and shook his hand out. Still, his fingers twitched. He didn’t know why he kept his brother’s number. Artie was gone. Only a stranger would be on the other end.
Finally, their car came to a halt at the stadium’s back entrance. A team of security guards were already in place in front of barricades, but that hadn’t deterred the massive wave of admirers pressed in on either side of the path from the car to the stadium door. There had to be hundreds of people here. He recognized a few of the signs they held up, some of the same fans who’d attended his soundcheck earlier in the day.
“Chin up,” Claire told Winter as they both straightened. “You’re about to wow this audience.”
Winter tucked his thoughts away like a loose hem, reminded himself of where he was and who people expected him to be. He took a deep breath and winked at Claire. “Always do,” he replied.
The two of them tapped fists. A bodyguard outside opened the door, and Claire turned away from him to step out of the car.
The crowd cheered at the familiar sight of her, knowing what her arrival meant. Then the cheers turned into an explosion of screams as Winter emerged.
Cold rain blew against his face. As the blinding flash of lights hit him, he cast the crowd a casual glance and saw a sea of phones turned in his direction. Frantic shouts peppered the chaos.
“Winter! Oh my god, oh my god—WINTER!”
“WINTER!!!”
“OVER HERE, WINTER!!”
