“At first, he panicked. Just for a couple of seconds, I could see it in his eyes. Like he hadn’t possibly predicted this miscalculation, where I would be super into it. Into him.” Juliet could remember what it felt like. Like she’d stumbled onto something huge. And she had. “He tried to backpedal after, tried to lean into hitting on me, but it was too late.”
She’d known. She’d had her suspicions confirmed.
“Later that night, after we’d performed, I went to him and told him I knew.” He’d panicked and tried to deny it, but she’d cut him off and told him about her. “He was the first person I ever told, about being a lesbian,” she admitted quietly. “And then I proposed the plan.”
It had turned out to be one of the best protections either of them could have imagined. Juliet had stopped receiving most of the skeevy, ardent come-ons from men, Robbie had an image as not only a physical heartthrob, but a devoted boyfriend. Nothing had ever worked better in Robbie’s favor for his female fans than having him be in a committed relationship.
“And… no one’s ever questioned it,” Darcy mused. She didn’task, so much as thought out loud.
“Why would they?” She posed back. “We show up to most, if not all, big events together. Promote one another’s music. And, frankly, beyond that, no one really cares. It’s all about the perception.”
She swore she could feel Darcy’s intense stare through the phone. “It never bothers you, either? That everyone believes you two are…” Darcy trailed off.
Juliet frowned, deeply. “No. Why would it?”
In fact, she’d always liked it. She’d come to rely on it. It truly was a security blanket, the most deeply comforting kind.
Darcy squirmed slightly in her chair, a classic-Darcy telltale that she was uncomfortable on the inside, manifesting outward.
Juliet knew she was a goner, because something like that used to drive her crazy about Darcy. Now, she liked it. She liked being able to have these visual clues into Darcy’s mind, and she loved knowing what they meant.
“I guess it makes sense,” Darcy acquiesced after a few seconds of silence.
“It would kill you,” Juliet deadpanned, knowingly. “To not only see everyone saying things that aren’t true, but to be a part of perpetuating it.”
“Yep,” Darcy immediately agreed. “But…” She drew in a long, tight breath. “It seems to work for you.”
Before she could respond, someone tapped a musical pattern out on Darcy’s dressing room door, before Blythe’s voice rang out, “Darce? Em and I are heading out to the tour bus, if you want to walk out with us.”
Juliet didn’t want her to go.
What she wanted, what shereally wanted, was to stay in this fucking bathroom and keep talking. They could talk Darcy’s upcoming shows, they could talk about Robbie, they could talk about Juliet’s past tours, they could talk about the song for the soundtrack, anything.
She simply craved Darcy’s very presence.
Her phone vibrated, the text message appearing at the top of her screen –
Robbie-O – 10:59P.M.
People are starting to head out. You ready? Are you feeling okay? Been in the bathroom for a while…
She swiped the message away with her thumb, turning her attention back to Darcy, who wore a knowing smile, one that wasn’t quite happy or unhappy. “You have to go, too.”
Juliet reluctantly nodded. “Yes. Or people are going to think I’ve been doing something very scandalous in this bathroom. If they don’t already.”
There. Darcy’s grin brightened. Goal achieved.
Darcy cleared her throat, angling toward the door as she shouted to her sister, “Hold on, I’m coming with you!”
Juliet still didn’t end the call, wanting to linger. Wanting more. “Wait, before you go,” she started as her mind latched onto something she’d meant to bring up earlier but hadn’t wanted to interrupt Darcy’s focus before her show.
Darcy’s attention immediately, unquestioningly returned to her. “Yeah?”
“I want you to send me a list of your favorite books. Darcy Kincaid’s top recommendations.”
The surprise and joy that bloomed over Darcy’s face was something that should be bottled. “Really?”
“Really.” She bit at her cheek for a moment, before honestly telling her, “I meant it. I think you’re an incredible writer, and I want to see if it helps spark something for me, too.”
