Butterflies in the daytime
Blue butterflies fly into my dreams at night
God, his last name’s in the damn title. It’s not exactly obvious, but the shippers went nuts when they first heard it.
Even so, the rumors about the two of them have died down over the years, since they’ve never been seen together after the band broke up. But Skyler’s fansconstantly speculate about him dating other men he’s seen with. For all Trevor knows, those rumors could be true. Some of them probably are. And it kills him to think about it.
He always thought his and Skyler’s love was fucking epic, you know? Or it would have been if they’d been allowed to love each other out in the open. With all the media training and all the beards, Trevor got so used to pretending they weren’t together, that it started to feel like they really weren’t.
On his worst days, he thinks he hates Charlie Carmichael, the record label, and their management team. On better ones, he thinks all these people were only doing their jobs. Ensuring the band achieved its fullest success by allowing the young female fans to believe, if they were somehow lucky enough, they might actually have a chance to date their favorite member of Boys Will Be Boys.
Never mind the reality that the band’s biggest heartthrob, green-eyed, curly-haired Skyler James, strictly liked cock.
More specifically, he liked Trevor’s cock.
And Trevor may have been somewhat of a heartthrob himself, but do you have any idea how badly he wanted to tell the world,See that gorgeous boy over there? He’s all fucking mine.
By the end, though, he’d spent so long being treated like his sexuality was something wrong, something to be ashamed of, that the idea of proclaiming it to the world had grown far too daunting.
And that’s how he lost the best thing that ever happened to him.
HAS EX-BOYBANDER TREVOR BLUE QUIT MUSIC FOR GOOD?
Pop artist Trevor Blue, of Boys Will Be Boys fame, has disappeared from the music scene after the mediocre reception of his debut solo album. The title track offBlue Againcharted at number two, but the album failed to sell as well as expected. It’s been more than two years since the release, and no new music from Blue. We’re surprised, especially considering he was the member of Boys Will Be Boys who penned the most songs for the band back in the day.
The singer has certainly suffered his fair share of tragedy over the years, enough to inspire multiple albums, one would think. First, the loss of his mother due to a car accident. Then the loss of the baby he was expecting with Sierra Mackenzie, niece of record label owner Charlie Carmichael, while the couple was engaged to be married. And finally, his marriage to Ms. Mackenzie lasted less than a year before ending in divorce.
Now it seems Blue may have decided to call it quits on more than just his marriage. Maybe he deserves a break from it all, but if he does have any more music in him, we’re sure he still has lots of fans out there eagerly awaiting his return.
Chapter Two
Now
TREVOR
TREVOR’S HEAD IS RINGING.No.His phone is ringing. He opens his eyes and tries to sit up, andokay. His phone and his head are ringing.
He gropes around until he retrieves the phone from where it slipped between the couch cushions and checks the screen.Courtney Beckingham.His publicist, still employed for who knows what reason. He can’t remember the last time he spoke to her.
And he certainly doesn’t want to speak to her now when he’s just woken up with the world’s worst hangover. He ignores the call and tosses his phone back onto the couch before rolling himself pathetically to the floor. Giving into temptation, he closes his eyes again, because the light feels like it’s stabbing him directly in his corneas.
Then a wet tongue licks a fat stripe of slobber up the entire side of his face, and he peeks his eyes open to find Stella hovering above him, her strong tail thwacking against the coffee table.
“Morning,” he croaks.
She gives him another lick, and when he doesn’t make any effort to move, she nudges her nose between his ribs.
“Okay, okay,” he says as she becomes too aggressive to ignore. “I’m fine. Let’s go out.”
He gets himself standing upright (currently no small task), and then stumbles to his bedroom to tug on a pair of sweatpants and change into a T-shirt that doesn’t have a glob of dried tomato sauce stuck to it.
His phone goes off again as he’s crossing the living room, but he leaves it on the couch, letting it ring. Disregarding finding his sunglasses in favor of getting the fuck out of here, he hurries to clip a leash onto Stella so they can walk out the front door.
As soon as he takes his first step outside, he’s blinded—but not by the sun.
Camera flashes go off from every direction.
“Trevor! Trevor, over here!” voices shout.
