I cock my head. “Well, not never,” I say. “Right? Just until Russia’s over and we’re ready to announce? Right?”
Erin hesitates. I see her hesitate. Then she smiles. “Yes. Obviously, Ruben, we wouldn’t keep the block on once you’re ready to announce. But, Zach, there’s no rush there, okay? We want you to wait until you’re absolutely, completely ready to bring things to the public eye. It doesn’t matter how long it takes you, in the meantime, we’ll make sure you get your privacy.”
I glance at Zach, who looks wary. So, he caught that undertone, too? The sudden narrative that they’re keeping this a secret for Zach’s sake, so he can retain his privacy? When last week, they were keeping it a secret for the band’s sake, and for the sake of our safety?
So good of them to be so very worried about every aspect of our well-being. So thoughtful, so responsible.
It’s a pity I don’t buy it.
“Hey, so,” Angel announces, oblivious to any tension on my half of the van. “I’m looking up ships. This is wild.”
“The bigger question is how you missed the whole shipping thing,” Jon says. He’s sitting sideways on his seat, back against the window and legs sticking out into the aisle.
Angel props himself up on his knees so he can see us all while Erin makes her way back to the front. “I knew it was a thing, Jonathan, I’ve seen stuff with Zach and me before. But people are, like, really into you and me.”
“Yup.” From the way Jon says it, it’s not a surprise to him.
“Has it always been like this?”
Jon sighs and lets his head fall back against the window. “I guess? But it took off after the bouncy castle video at your party, I think.”
“Oh my god.” Angel actually looks pleased. “This is so flattering.”
“It’s creepy,” Jon answers in a singsong voice.
“It’s … oh, holy shit, look at this photoshopping. I’m sorry, Jon, but I’ve seen you in your underwear and they got you all wrong. But props for creativity, I guess. Wait. Woof, this next one might be accurate for all I know, actually, I haven’t seen that much of you.” Angel raises his eyebrows at his phone, then holds it out to Jon. “Do you have a mole there?”
Jon yelps and squeezes his eyes shut.
“What about us?” Zach asks.
Exactly what I want to know. I’d googled Zach and me together several times, but it was mostly to keep an eye out for any possible leaks—not that I think David and the rest of the publicity team would let anything like that slide, but still. But I’d always scrolled the news page results. I try to avoid any fan content I’m not tagged in online, and even then, it’d take hours out of each day to read everything anyone ever says about us.
Angel looks at his phone, still wearing a self-impressed grin. “Let’s see … Anjon … Zachathan … Zangel … Jonben … Rungel … Zuben. You have your shippers,” he announces after a pause. “But it’s niche. You guys don’t hold a candle to the sweeping romance that is Anjon.”
“?Salud!” I say. “To the happy couple.”
“It’s funny, don’t you think?” Angel asks. “That Zuben is one of the smaller ships?”
“I don’t think it’s an accident,” I say.
From the front of the bus, Erin’s eyes flicker to me. I hold her gaze with a blank expression.
She should be proud. So should all of Chorus. The damage control—or rather, the damage prevention—has worked like a charm.
* * *
We’re in the green room a couple of nights later when Zach pulls me aside to speak privately. We’re styled and ready to go on in twenty minutes, and after a day filled with interviews and photo shoots, it’s the first free second we’ve had to talk all day.
We find a corner of the room that’s removed from the bustling of our team and plonk down on the carpet with our backs against the walls.
“So,” Zach murmurs, pressing his arm flush against mine. “I think I’m gonna come out to my mom.”
“Oh wow. Shit, that’s huge.”
“I’m thinking maybe, like, tomorrow? Ish? Or maybe on the weekend. I don’t know. When I’m brave enough, I guess.” He gives me a sheepish smile, and I resist the urge to wrap him in a bear hug.
I take a second to find the right words. “That’s … look, it’s great, but … are you doing this because you want to? Or because you’re worried? ’Cause…”
“No, I want to.” He sounds unsure, but then he gives a firm nod. “I’ve been thinking about it for a little while and I don’t want her hearing it from somewhere else.”
I hesitate. “I get that, but … I dunno, to me that sounds like you feel pushed into doing it.”
He shrugs. “Not really. It’s nothing like when we came out to the band.”
I pause. “What do you mean?”
“Well, we were backed into a corner then. I didn’t want to come out, but if the only other option was being outed, I figured we kind of had to. I guess this is similar, in a way? But it feels different. It feels like my choice this time.”
I stare at him, my blood going cold. “You didn’t want to come out?”
He falters at the horrified tone in my voice. “It’s fine. It’s not a big deal. I’m just saying.”
“Zach, it is a big deal. I had no idea. If you’d told me, we would’ve figured it out, talked to Keegan, or hidden it better, or whatever we needed to.”
“Please don’t worry about it. I made my own decision. No one forced me.”
I blink, gobsmacked. Because now I kind of feel like I must have forced him. I replay everything I can remember from that night. What did I say that made him feel trapped? Did I give him enough space to give his own opinions? Did I check in with him? Or did I assume he was on board with my opinion and steamroll him? I genuinely don’t know anymore, and the thought that I might have dragged my boyfriend out of the closet, even if I didn’t mean to, makes my stomach churn.
Did I hurt him?