When his eyes lock onto mine, so dark with wanting they’re almost chocolate, he holds my gaze.
After it’s over, and we lie tangled up in each other’s bodies, his head resting heavy on my chest, I think through a fog of happiness that I don’t want to sleep with anyone but him ever again. And even though I know that one day I might look back on this moment and think it was a na?ve thing to hope for, right now, it’s the entire truth of it.
One day, I might not have him anymore. But right now, he’s the only thing that exists. So, I push away all of the other fears and grief for just a few minutes longer.
I pretend it’s just us, and that forever will be just like this moment, for a few minutes longer.
TWENTY-FOUR
ZACH
It’s been six weeks since I’ve seen the rest of Saturday.
I’ve visited Ruben, and let’s just say we had a, ahem, great time trying out all sorts of things. We’re being very safe, as he’s on PrEP and we’re using condoms, just in case, and mostly it’s nice that we don’t have to think too much about STDs and stuff.
So I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to see Ruben for that reason.
But I do also miss the band. I get to see them today, and I can’t wait.
Angel was released from rehab a few days ago. Like always, it turns out Veronica’s instincts were scarily accurate, and he was released at exactly the one-month mark. As a celebration, we’ve all arranged to meet at Ruben’s place now that Angel has had enough time to catch up with his family. We also want to watch the “Overdrive” music video, which arrived without warning in all our in-boxes a little over a week ago, but watching it without Angel felt sacrilegious, so we’ve waited for him. People at Chorus asked for our thoughts, but we all know they don’t really care about that, and they haven’t pressed us.
I go up to Ruben’s front door, and knock. A few moments later, the door opens.
And Ruben is there.
My boyfriend.
I start smiling really hard. He does, too. I press a quick kiss to his lips, then go inside. Ruben lives in a private, guarded subdivision, so I know we’re not in any danger from paparazzi, at least inside. Even on the slim chance someone has a long-distance camera, if we’re indoors, they can’t sell the photo or they’d get the crap sued out of them.
“I missed you,” he says.
“I missed you, too.”
He rubs my arm. “Want a soda?”
“Yeah, please.”
We both grab Diet Cokes, and we go onto the deck. The others, including Angel, are already here, and Ruben’s dad is grilling on the barbeque. It smells smoky and delicious. Jon and Angel are seated on the outdoor furniture, looking out at the pool. Angel beams, before awkwardly getting out of his seat, mindful of the gold-and-black Versace-pattern cast he still wears on his arm, where the compound fracture was. I didn’t even know they made those. Maybe it’s custom.
“There he is!” he says. “Finally.”
“Hey.”
He gives me a sideways hug as Jon comes up, his hands shoved in his pockets. The graze on Angel’s temple seems mostly healed, which is good, but I do see he’s still walking with a limp. Aside from that, though, he seems back to normal. I also get a hug from Jon and then a handshake from Ruben’s dad. Veronica just nods at me.
So here we are.
Saturday is back together, for the first time since the tour was called off.
“How are you?” I ask Angel, as we sit.
“Never better. You?”
I’m a little taken aback to see him acting like himself, after the way we all left things the last time we spoke. But it is Angel, I guess. I glance at Jon to see if he shares my opinion, but he’s not looking at me. “Can’t complain.”
“I bet,” he says, glancing between Ruben and me and wiggling his eyebrows.
“And, food is ready,” says Ruben’s dad, clearly wanting to change the subject. “Come and get it.”
He’s made a bunch of mushroom burgers, along with a selection of meatless sides and sauces, because he’s a vegetarian at the moment. According to Ruben, he always cycles through diets, and they only ever last a month, max.
After lunch, we all go into the home theater to watch the “Overdrive” video. Without even needing to ask, Ruben’s parents leave the four of us alone, so we can watch it as just us. It’s been our tradition ever since our very first music video. Jon swipes on his phone, and the title page comes up on the projector screen, showing the word “Overdrive” in neon red against a night sky.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Wait,” says Angel. “I want to say something, first.”
We all fall silent.
“Come on,” says Angel. “I just went to rehab, it’s not like I’m dying.”
Jon crosses his arms. “Just rehab, huh? Not a big deal?”
“I’m getting to that. But first, I want to apologize to you, Jon.”
Jon straightens in his seat and raises his eyebrows, waiting.
“I was … really shitty to you. My therapist calls it misplaced anger, which apparently is a thing. Who knew?”
Jon is lingering by the TV, clearly unsure of what to do, or what to even do with his hands. I get it. I am not exactly sure Angel has ever apologized before.
“You said you hated me,” says Jon.
“I don’t hate you.” Angel chews on his lip. “I love you. I love all of you. I was just … everything was so fucked up. I was angry, and fucking terrified, and I thought you were just doing it to hurt me. I didn’t get it. It took me weeks to get it, actually. I guess I had a lot of time to think.” He gives us a weak smile. “It’s not an excuse, and you don’t have to forgive me. I probably wouldn’t forgive me. But I’m so fucking sorry for what I said.”
Jon looks at him for a long while, scanning him from head to toe. His expression is so unreadable, I actually start wondering if Angel pushed it too far. Maybe this was unforgivable to Jon.
Then Jon’s expression crumples. “I missed you,” he says. “It’s so good to see you, man.”