I don’t think that’s a good idea. “You know the media will run the story how they want to unless we control the narrative, yeah?”
“Control the narrative. Look at you talking PR lingo.”
“Ignoring that condescension. Take your shirt off.”
Cute lines appear on Soren’s forehead. “Media … narrative … shirt off … Yup, I’m not following that train of thought.”
“Trust me.” I reach back and pull my shirt over my head.
“Makes more sense now.” Soren follows. He goes to pull me against him again, but I don’t let him.
Instead, I reach for his phone and then climb behind him on the bed.
Wrapping my arms around his wide hockey shoulders, I stick my tongue out and take a selfie at the exact moment Soren cracks a smile at the camera.
I hit some buttons and post it to all his social media. Then I hand it back to him.
He looks at what I did and laughs. “Nothing beats waking up next to him. Hashtag official. Hashtag Disney love.” Soren bites his lip. “Disney love? Bit much, isn’t it?”
I kiss Soren’s cheek. His neck. “So, we’re exaggerating what we are. We know our truth. Let them believe whatever so long as it helps both of us.”
“Our truth. And what is that again? We kind of left Fiji without any real plan. Am I a friend helping you get through this tour? Are we boyfriends? Are we seeing if we’ll even survive a few weeks on the road?”
Shit. “Umm …”
“It’s okay if you don’t have an exact answer for me. If you tell me all you can handle right now is a friend to distract you, I’ll give it to you. I just want to know where we stand.”
“I don’t know what the rest of this tour is going to be like. Working with Harley again … it could be a disaster. I want this thing between us to work. I want to try … but fuck, my life’s a mess right now.”
“I don’t want to put more pressure on you than you need. Just know I want you. All of you. Whenever you can give that to me.”
“Do you think you can handle not having a definitive answer?”
“I can handle anything you throw my way, baby. I promise to be patient.”
Shifting around so I’m no longer behind him, I straddle Soren’s lap. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
He kisses me softly. “Never.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Soren
I’m decked out with an all-areas pass as we’re led into KeyArena in Seattle. Jet’s edgy and kind of distant. I don’t know if this is what he’s like before a show or if it’s because the inevitable run-in with his ex is going to happen tonight.
I’ve walked into empty arenas and stadiums and ice rinks a billion times, and it seems the atmosphere is the same whether it’s set up for sports or a concert.
The ghosts of audiences past fill the space with phantom screams. Anticipation is built into the walls of this place and can be felt just passing through the corridors.
And as we hit the side stage area, I think I get the answer about Jet’s headspace.
The Eleven guys are rehearsing or doing soundcheck or whatever they call it, and Jet’s steps falter.
There’s a moment where the whole group of us—me, Luce, Marty, Freya, and Benji—freeze with him.
The guys onstage keep going, but Harley locks eyes with us.
He and Jet stare each other down, and even though animosity passes between both of them, I can’t help noticing the heartbreak and unresolved emotion there. With one intense look.
“Let’s go.” Jet stalks off, heading for backstage.
“That was more brutal than I thought it’d be,” Benji says.
Jet looks over his shoulder. “Heard that.”
Benji has a point though. That was more than brutal.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to react. I promised to be there for him even knowing he and Harley are in a completely different place than Bryce and me.
I have no reservations that breaking up was the right thing for us. I’m not sure Jet and Harley have reached that point.
And yeah, maybe I’m reading a hell of a lot into one look, but shit, their connection is fucking palpable.
“Babe?” Jet’s voice snaps me back to him, and my feet automatically follow.
We’re taken to a dressing room backstage, and Jet beelines it to a guitar case.
“My baby,” he coos and immediately takes it out. “I’ve missed you.”
“Should I be worried he’s never spoken to me like that?” I ask. “He’s been without it for, what, two days?” I haven’t seen it since arriving at LAX.
Benji claps my shoulder. “Yeah, you’ll need to give them a moment alone.”
“Hope you don’t mind sharing with his true love,” Marty adds. “I don’t want to know just how close he is with that guitar.”
“Fuck all y’all,” Jet says, but he’s smiling as he says it. He takes a seat in the corner and strums his guitar.