“I like Jon’s part better.”
Valeria looks to Erin for help, and Erin waves her off. “Angel,” Erin says as we walk. “I know everyone’s tired, but you’re embarrassing yourself. Stick to what we’ve agreed on, okay? You’re a legal adult, now, I expect you to act like one.”
I brace myself for her to press him about the drugs. Hell, even right now it’s obvious. His pupils are so dilated the iris is almost engulfed, and his jaw is working frantically. But she doesn’t. Does she … not notice? Or does she just not care?
As we go about the usual routine of stripping and handing our clothes to our team to organize, Jon leans in to Angel and says under his breath, “What did you take?”
“Didn’t you hear Erin?” Angel asks brightly, but with an edge. “I’m just tired.”
I can tell from the glare Jon gives him that the conversation isn’t over. But while we’re surrounded by our team, there’s not much we can say to him.
If they ignore it, we have to.
Synchronized, choreographed denial.
TWELVE
ZACH
Today, 10:36 a.m. (12 hours ago)
Geoff <[email protected]>
To: me
Dear Zach,
Great news! I’ve had a talk with Galactic and they’ve decided they would love to get your input on one of our upcoming songs, “End of Everything.” We’re thinking it might be a strong second single for The Town Red, and having you as a songwriter would give it a narrative edge that will really push it over the line and make it a hit. Have a tinker with the lyrics and get them back to me and I’ll pass them on—we’d love for this to work out, and to get you a songwriter credit on the LP!
Best,
Geoff
Things lately are … wonderful. Completely and utterly wonderful.
Sure, the email is great, and I’ve already been brainstorming lyrics. But being with Ruben blows that out of the water. I can’t recall the last time I’ve smiled this much.
We just wrapped up another show in Cologne, and it felt like my best performance in ages. I was on fire. I hit every note perfectly and I had so much freaking fun onstage. The crowd responded, cheering louder than I can recall in months, so much so that the applause at the end felt endless.
Right now Ruben and I are sitting in the back seat of yet another dark, anonymous minibus, sharing one of the blankets Erin got us. We’re partly doing it because it’s cold out—but also partly so that we can touch each other without anyone else noticing.
I’m trying to be careful about how obvious we’re being, though, more than I think Ruben is. He’s resting his hand on my inner thigh, and keeps inching upward.
The only issue is, I want to be touching him back. Everywhere. So even though it gives me heart palpitations to be doing this, especially so close to the others, I’m not stopping or moving his hand off my leg. It should be fine. We’re both looking out our opposite windows, pretending to be captivated by the city, and it’s not like we’ve never shared a blanket in the back seat before. We’re a band. We share pretty much everything. If anyone looked at us, they wouldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.
Ruben moves his hand off my leg, and I miss it, but then he runs his fingers down my arm and starts drawing circles on my wrist. I turn my hand, and our fingers interlock, so I can feel the heat of his palm against mine.
“Hey, boys,” says Erin, from the front seat.
As casually as I can, I pull my hand away. I glance at Ruben, trying to silently apologize. But if anything, his wide eyes make it seem as if he’s just as alarmed as I am.
“Get off your phones and look out your window for one second,” she says. “The Cologne Cathedral is coming up.”
The minibus turns a corner, and through the front window is a view of maybe the most badass-looking building I’ve ever seen. It’s a towering gothic building, one that would probably be right at home in a horror movie, honestly. Its stone spires are lit up by hundreds of yellow lights underneath. I’m not sure if this is offensive to think or whatever, but it kind of looks like a castle a monster would live in. Like Dracula or some shit. It’s just so over the top in a cool, freaky way.
I’m obsessed.
The driver pulls over, and I start smiling. Again. God damn it. Even though it’s a struggle to keep my eyes open, I feel hope catch on in my chest. If the outside is this cool, who even knows what will be inside? I bet it’s amazing.
“It’s something, right?” says Erin. “I knew you’d like it, Zach.”
“I love it.”
“Same,” says Jon, awestruck. It might have some big importance to his religion. It might matter to him as something much more than a cool-looking building, I don’t know. “I can’t believe I didn’t know this existed.”
The rest of us just murmur in agreement. Angel takes a photo of it on his phone, and I see him Snapchat it to someone. Probably a model.
Ruben was taking it in before, but now he’s focused on his phone, the screen lighting up his face. His frown tells me all I need to know. His mom must’ve messaged him again. He’s getting multiple texts from her a day now, and they’re never just checking in. It’s always a link to some article online criticizing him.
“Hey,” I say. “Ignore her.”
He presses his lips together and slides his phone back into his pocket. I know him, though, and I know he’ll read whatever article his mom sent him as soon as he’s alone. He can’t help but scratch that itch.
Erin nods at the driver, and we move away from the curb.
Wait, no.
I lean forward, to ask if we can go inside. “Hey, Erin.”
“Yeah?”
Everyone is staring at me, and the answer is going to be no anyway. I know that.
“Doesn’t matter,” I say, falling back in my seat.
I should’ve known better than to get my hopes up. It was such a long shot.
“We’ll come back,” says Ruben, his voice just above a whisper. “We’ll see it then.”