As in your face as JJ? Definitely not.
But if being happy and kind was synonymous with being boring, then we needed more boring people in the world.
I wanted to tell Xander all this and more, but would he believe me? How could I show him he was wrong about himself in a way he’d understand? A mortifying idea came to mind, one I instantly rejected, but when another thirty seconds passed and I hadn’t come up with something else, I realized it was my best option.
In spite of an overwhelming urge to flee, I cleared my throat. “You’ll find more joy in being yourself than someone else’s rip-off,” I said. The responding look Xander shot me made my face heat up, and I hadn’t even gotten to the embarrassing part yet.
“Sounds like a cheesy quote from one of those inspirational saying posters you see in classrooms,” he replied. “Who said it?”
Oh God, here we go. “You did, kind of.”
Xander’s forehead scrunched up. “What are you talking about?”
“Okay, remember at Comic Con when you told me there were fan fictions written about you?”
Three seconds of what felt like never-ending silence ticked by. Xander’s grip on the guitar loosened, and he set it down as if preparing to hear bad news.
“Yes?” The hesitation packed into that one syllable almost made me clamp my mouth shut, but then I remembered the hurt flashing across his face at the theater. He needed to hear this, regardless of how uncomfortable confessing it made me feel.
“I was curious, so…I maybe started reading one? I swear it’s not one of those smutty stories. It’s dystopian, has all the basic tropes—government oppression, loss of individualism, revolution. There’s lots of freedom fighting and all around badassery on your part.” I reached for the familiar comfort of my pendant, forgetting that I’d replaced it with a choker for the premiere.
“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, the tips of his ears turning a bright red.
“Two reasons. First, I think you should take some advice from your fictional self: being more like your bandmates won’t make you happy. And second—”
“I never said I wanted to be more like them.”
His defensive tone took me by surprise, and I stopped to analyze our exchange. Okay, those exact words hadn’t come out of his mouth, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t implied them.
“You’re right. I apologize,” I told him, laying a hand over myheart. “To me, it sounded like you thought you’d be happier in one of their positions.”
A scowl darkened his face. “Well, that’s not what I meant.”
Instead of responding, I raised my brows at him and waited for clarification. We stared at each other for a single strained moment, but in the end, he heaved a sigh.
“Do I get jealous? Sure. Would I change who I am so more people like me? Hell no. I’m happy with me.” He paused, the blaze in his eyes dulling, and in a voice so quiet I almost didn’t hear, he added, “I just wish everyone else was too.”
Emotion tightened around my lungs, and I fought the urge to reach out and touch his arm in comfort. “Xander, your fans love you, and I can prove it.” On my phone, I opened FanficFiles and showed himRhythm of Your Heart. “Thisis the main reason why I admitted to reading a story about you. Look at the read count. This isn’t some trending fic. It’s one of the most read books on the entire website. Your fans are wild about it, and it’s more popular than anything written about Oliver, JJ, or Alec.”
He glanced at the screen, his gaze flickering over the story description. When he finished reading, his lips fluttered, hinting at a smile. “I’m the mysterious leader of a rebel group? That doesn’t sound like me at all.”
“You’d be surprised,” I told him, my own lips curving up in relief. “Minus a ragged scar on your back and a talent for martial arts, I think the author has you down to a T. Of course, maybe you really are a secret ninja with a nasty battle wound?”
“Oh yeah, and I teach parkour classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays.You should come sometime so I can dazzle you with my nonexistent abilities.”
“How about archery lessons instead?” I said this jokingly, my attempt at keeping the mood light, but Xander took the question as one of paramount importance. His entire demeanor changed, and he leaned forward, his eyes glowing with excitement.
“Do you really want to learn?” he asked. “Because I’m more than willing to teach you.”
“I, um—I don’t think I’d be any good,” I spluttered, startled by his sudden enthusiasm. Or maybe it was his proximity that was overwhelming? We were so close now I could count the freckles splashed across his face. “But yeah, I’d like that.”
My attempt to cheer Xander up finally worked, and a smile rearranged his expression. It was the best kind of smile, full-blown and crooked. “It’s a date then.”
His statement wreaked havoc on my pulse. I knew he didn’t mean anything by the worddate—this would be a social engagement, not a romantic one—but my poor heart was too stupid to know any better and wouldn’t stop racing.
“Cool” was all I could manage in response.
Really, Indie? Cool?
