“Just reading an article about every girl we’ve ever been in the same room with and why that means we’re dating them,” I say.
Angel flicks through the article. “Oh man. Oh man. I—well, you know what, at least they’re fucking acknowledging I’m fuckable,” he says loudly. Then he throws his arms back to address the room. “Breaking news! Chorus realizes it’s actually possible for someone to find Angel attractive! Call the press, this changes everything!”
A few of our team members, including Erin, glance our way, but no one replies or approaches us.
Zach hums. “So, you think the source is David, too, huh? I wondered if it was just me.”
Angel laughs at top-volume, and for several beats too long. It sounds more like a villain’s cackle. “No, Zachy, not just you. If this isn’t David’s doing I’ll jump off the stage and surf the fucking crowd tonight. This is real obvious. Zach and Ruben are super super no-homo, just super straight, everyone.”
“And I’m probably available, with just enough of a question in there to make me seem more appealing,” Jon says dully.
“And I’m also definitely straight, but not the one the fans should be dreaming of,” Angel adds, a vicious edge to his tone.
“So, there’s no reason to even think about shipping anyone with anyone,” I finish, and Angel claps me on the shoulder in approval.
“David sent in a photo of me with my pregnant cousin,” Zach says, indignant, and Angel howls with laughter until he falls right off the chair.
Jon helps Angel to his feet, and I stand to meet him. “Hey, you okay?” I ask.
Angel claps his hands. “Absotively fantastic. I am so, so ready. Let’s fucking go, let’s get onstage, I’m pumped!”
He’s jumping on the spot now.
Not one member of our team seems to mind. They’ve got to have noticed; it’s impossible for them to have missed it. But if they don’t mind, what can be done? It’s not like Angel listens to us.
I hand Angel a bottle of water and force a smile. “Okay. Well. As long as you’re okay, I guess.”
His face clouds and he rips the lid off the bottle with his teeth. “I’m fine, Ruben. Don’t ruin it.”
I glance at Zach and Jon. They’re wearing matching concerned expressions. But their eyes tell me I’m right. There’s nothing we can do that we haven’t already tried. And frankly, between our schedule, and the weirdness over me and Zach coming out, and Zach’s worry about his mom, and my mom texting me with critiques every second of the day, I don’t have the capacity to deal with this. It’s all too big for me to know where to begin.
So, when Erin calls us to head to the stage, I do the only thing I can. I tell myself that Angel’s fine, and it isn’t the end of the world if he has some extra energy onstage, and I push him to the back of my mind, and I get on with the show.
Because I don’t know what else I can do.
EIGHTEEN
ZACH
It’s time.
I need to tell Mom about what’s been happening with Ruben.
I’ve got everything set up for our scheduled FaceTime. I’ve done my hair, pushing it down instead of up, and I’m wearing a shirt I’ve only been wearing lately as PJs: a long-sleeved Falling for Alice one. I guess I’ve done all this to show Mom that even though she’s about to find out something super personal about me, I’m still me. I’m still her weird kid who loves pop punk bands with everything he has. Nothing about me has changed, and I want to show that. I glance at the fan’s embroidery with the ‘Fight Back’ lyrics on them, the one thing I kept from the meet and greet.
My phone starts ringing.
Oh crap.
Oh freaking crap.
I’m frozen. As soon as I answer the phone, I’ll have to have the conversation. And right now, my stomach feels completely twisted. I’m wrung out, honestly. Coming out to her should be fine; Mom is extremely, I mean extremely, liberal. And after coming out a few times now, I’ve learnt how good it feels.
All the good feelings come once the conversation is over, though. And right now, it feels like everything is going badly. Saturday is spinning out of control and I can’t stop it. Having Mom on my side is one of the few constants, and this could change that. It shouldn’t, but that’s the thing about people—sometimes they do things that you don’t expect. Plus, it’s possible Mom is cool with queer people as long as they’re not me.
But with everything going on, I want her to know about me, even if I can’t predict how she’ll react. I am bi, and I have a boyfriend. She should know. And it’s not like I’m ashamed about being into guys or dating Ruben.
I just don’t want to let her down.
The call ends.
I missed it.
I let out a breath, and shake my shoulders. I’ve performed in front of thousands of people and haven’t felt even slightly nervous, but I’d pick a concert over this any day. I’d even pick one where I have to perform in my underwear and I don’t know the lyrics.
I lift my shaking hands, and call Mom back, starting a video call. We didn’t do this until the start of this tour, but speaking face-to-face is just nicer now that we’re so far away.
It rings once.
“Hello!” she says. She’s still dressed in her work uniform, but her hair is loose, hanging around her shoulders in messy light-brown curls. She must’ve called me the second she got home from her shift. “How’s it going?”
“I’m good, how are you?”
Mom frowns. “All right, what’s up?”
“What?”
“You’re wearing your moody shirt and you’re being weird.”
“I’m not being weird!”
Mom’s time working in healthcare has given her zero tolerance for crap. Patients who keep secrets from her out of shame or whatever piss her off because they make her job way harder.
“Okay, you’re right. I actually do have something I want to tell you.”
“I’m shocked.”
“Can we be serious for five seconds?”
“I’m sorry, I’ll put on my serious Mom face. What’s going on, sweetums?”
“You’re the worst.”
“Come on, tell me. Let me guess, you’re dating someone?”
I pause.