I’m totally wired as we settle into the couch, and Jon loops his arm over my shoulders to keep me from bouncing off the walls. I’m used to it by now. He’s a touchy feely guy and we spend a lot of time like this.
The show starts and my eyes are glued to the screen as the remaining contestants perform in groups. In between, Carson Daly announces who’s safe and who’s not. They’re down to the last two and they still haven’t put Lo through, and when they finally call her name, they bring her up with the other contestant and tell us one is safe and the other will have to sing for her survival.
And then they cut to a fucking commercial.
I scream right out loud and Jon throws his hand over my mouth, laughing. When he stops laughing and his rubber lips pucker up, I realize just in time where this is going.
“Whoa, there, cowboy,” I say, lifting my hand and pressing it against his face. “You’d take advantage of a girl in a compromised mental state?”
He shrugs. “It’s been a while. Wanted to try it again.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s so romantic.”
He looks at me for a long moment. “You don’t put a whole lot of stock in the reputation thing, do you?”
I’m not sure if that’s an insult or a compliment. “Meaning?”
He shrugs and watches the talking lizard on TV try to sell us insurance. “You don’t seem to care much about what other people think of you. That’s really brave.”
“If you say so.”
“How do you do that? Not care?”
I look at him again, just now picking up on the fact that he does care, and maybe wishes he didn’t. “What’s going on?”
He takes a deep breath and unhooks his arm from my shoulders. He watches his hands fidget with the remote as he lowers his voice and says, “I’m not sure I like girls.”
I take a second to process that before I slip the remote out of his hands and pause the TiVo. “You mean you don’t like them? Like…you like boys better?”
He shrugs. “It’s just something I’ve been thinking about.”
“Have you ever tested your theory out?”
He cracks that goofy smile. “I was just trying to, but my test subject rejected me.”
I kiss him, no tongue, but long and slow. “Anything?”
He shrugs. “It’s nice.”
“But no…zing.” I wave at his privates.
He makes a face. “Not really.”
“What about the guys you know? Have you…I don’t know, tried doing anything to see how you feel?”
“I haven’t kissed a guy or anything, but I’m pretty sure I want to.”
“Have you talked to anyone about this…a counselor or whatever?”
He shakes his head.
“Why are you telling me this?”
He presses his shoulder into mine. “So, this is where it gets a little weird. I’ve only known you a few weeks, but I feel like I’ve known you forever. But I don’t think the guys I really have known forever would take this very well, so…you’re the safest.” He tips his head and looks me in the eye. “Plus, you don’t really know anyone here, so it’s not like you’re going to blab it around, right?”
“Right.” I slouch into my seat and flick a wrist between us. “This all kind of makes sense now.”
He takes my hand and squeezes. “I meant what I said about you being hot. I figured if there was any girl who’d do it for me, it would be you.”
I press my forehead to his. “Thanks. I think.”
He takes the remote back and starts the program, fast forwarding to the part where Lo and the other girl are standing holding hands, shoulder to shoulder, waiting for their fate.
And again, I wonder when Lo got so touchy.
They’ve already dug every ratings point out of the human interest angle of Lo being a foster kid and never knowing any of her blood relatives. All the stupid jokes have been made about long lost relatives coming out of the woodwork after her notoriety on the show. So instead of beating that dead horse, Carson Daly asks them both a lame question about their inspiration.
When it’s Lo’s turn to answer, she says. “My best friend Lilah has been through hell. She’s incredibly talented and she should really be here instead of me. Every night when I get up on stage and sing, I’m channeling her. I’m doing this for her.”
“Holy shit!” Jon says from beside me. “That’s you, isn’t it?”
All I can do is nod.
And a second later when Carson says, “Congratulations, Shiloh! You and your friend Lilah are through to the final,” I scream again.
?
My phone buzzes in my pocket just before Jon and I reach the doorway of our last period algebra class. I fish it out of my pocket and my feet stall when I see it’s Lo. She’s been so crazy busy I only hear from her every few weeks. She called the week before last to ask me if I’d written anything fresh. Said some of the contestants had written their own music for the original song performance and she hoped they’d let her use one of mine. I sent her my newest—the one I wrote for Bran—but never really thought it would fly with the producers.
“It’s happening, Li!” she shrieks in my ear when I connect. “They loved your song!”