I love his snark and his energy and his public persona, but I love this other side of him even more. I don’t think he shows it to many people, and my heart feels full knowing that I’m one of the few who gets to see the real Jet.
I just wish I didn’t have to leave him in six more weeks.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to walk away from him.
Not again.
Chapter Twenty-Four
JET
Routine becomes easy once I know what it is Soren needs from me. Since our escape room and gym date, he’s been able to still have a sense of normal in his life.
Every couple of stops, I make sure to get Soren out on a date-like activity where we can break away from the craziness that is the tour.
Sometimes we’ve had to cut them short because of paparazzi or fans recognizing us, and not every activity we do can be private like the escape room, but we try.
I don’t get much free time, but I make every spare minute count.
Soren works out in the hotel gym while I go do interviews, but he’s always, without fail, at the side of the stage for every soundcheck and show.
Despite Harley telling us to go to the after-parties, we don’t because other than keeping fans happy, I don’t see the point of them. The people pay for VIP passes to meet Eleven, not us. If we were headliners, we’d have no choice, but I do get a choice, and I choose to escape to my hotel room with Soren.
With the new sense of normal between us, it’s the first time in touring history I can say I’m completely, one hundred percent, happy.
Soren brings something extra to my life: stability in this insane celebrity lifestyle.
He calms me.
Brings me out of the clouds.
Makes my mind less fuzzy.
It’s not the sexiest thing in the world—even the word stability makes me cringe—but fuck knows I need it.
As the concert dates pass, cities blur together. We move through the motions, we get it all done, and then we fall into bed next to each other every night. It means I develop an awareness of him. Of his body.
Which is why when Soren starts to become unsettled, I notice. He covers it well during the day, but it’s obvious in his lack of sleep that only seems to grow with each city we’re in. I’m a light sleeper, so I know every time he rolls over, sense when he’s not actually asleep, and I feel the loss every time he stops touching me or gets out of bed.
We make our way through the Midwest and then the South, but it’s when we fly to Montreal that I sense him really beginning to pull away and finally have to say something.
He’s staring out the window of our hotel, looking pensive.
“Home sweet home?” I hedge. I hate how unsure I sound because I’m usually nothing but confident—even when I’m faking it.
The tension that’s been building between us scares the shit out of me because our time is running out, and I’m thinking he’s pulling away for a reason I don’t want to hear.
Soren turns, and his lips quirk. “Do I need to get you a map? Montreal isn’t Toronto.”
“Wait, Canada is not all the same? High school geography lied!”
He pulls me close. There is absolutely no better feeling than being in Soren’s arms. Not eighteen thousand fans screaming for more or the adrenaline of being in front of a large crowd. Not even coming home to Matt and Noah after a long tour and getting a good night’s sleep.
The best feeling in the world is Soren.
“I wish I could be there when you guys hit Toronto,” he says. “Although, I’m guessing you’re happy to get out of meeting my family seeing as I won’t be there with you.”
You’d think that, but I’m disappointed the schedule didn’t allow for him to be there when I am. I want to meet his parents.
Which is insane. I don’t know how to talk to someone’s parents. I don’t even talk to my own.
I practically choke on the question I don’t want to ask. “Is that why you’ve been kinda weird lately? Because there’s only two shows left before you leave?”
“I’ve been acting weird?” Have to admit, Soren’s convincing at pretending to be confused.
“You haven’t been sleeping well. Kinda been pulling away.”
“You’re perceptive.”
“Damn. I was hoping I was reading into things.”
“Sorry. I didn’t want you to worry. There are a few things going on. Mainly to do with hockey and getting this contract extension. I have to play well this year, and now that preseason is getting closer, I’m realizing the type of pressure I put on myself by signing the one-year deal instead of the three.”
“Why did you only sign the one-year deal?” I tell the hope blooming in my stomach that it might’ve had something to do with me turning up in Fiji, but I remind myself that this is about his career. Not us. And he signed it before we started hooking up.