Harley smiles. “Since when do you care about not being rude?”
“True. But damn, my gaydar is so broken.”
“Let’s just say, it’s the person you’d least suspect because he has the best cover story.”
The best cover story. Like a wife isn’t the best … Wait … a daughter?
“Oh, shit, I guess I wasn’t subtle enough because from the look on your face, you’ve worked it out. Can you pretend I didn’t just out one of my best friends to you? I don’t think he’d care. At least, not with you, but it’s not my place.”
“Yeah, of course. Is that the real reason Ryder wanted to quit Eleven?”
“Nah, his main reason was Kaylee. When we left the press conference, we all hugged, and he joked about seeing us at the reunion tour when we’re forty. I think he just wants a break.”
“A break sounds good right about now.”
“You’ll get one as soon as we work through this block of ours.”
“Harley …” I don’t want to be a dick, but he can’t keep doing this. “We don’t have a block because there is no us anymore.”
I see the moment it really clicks for him, and I hate that I’m causing that look of hurt on his face. I’m pretty sure it’s how I used to look every time he left me alone in a hotel room on the road after sneaking out in the morning.
“What is it about the hockey player that made you forget about the eighteen months we had?”
“Do you really want to do this?”
“I have to do this because I’ve never felt this way about anyone else. Ever.”
“You’re confused. We were both confused for a long time. We thought comfort was love. We thought that full feeling we had when we were together meant something. You know what it meant? That we weren’t so alone anymore. Being with Soren? Even though he’s on the other side of the country right now, I’m not lonely.”
“You don’t miss him?”
“It’s hard, and I miss him like crazy, but that void that was in my chest that you temporarily filled on tour isn’t there. Which is why I want to get this album done so I can go see him. Hint, hint, I’m telling you to hurry the fuck up.”
Harley reaches for the pen and paper on a side table next to the couch. We’ve got papers strewn all over the room as we write draft after draft of songs. When Harley’s been working on his own stuff, I’ve been writing for Radioactive, so it hasn’t been a complete waste, but I want to get this one song with him over and done with already so I can truly focus on my band.
He scribbles something down and shushes me when I ask him what he’s writing. Eventually, he shoves the paper at me.
Confusing love with isolation
Holding on in desperation
I thought I’d found my one
The one I’m meant to keep
But that’s not how it works
And now I’m in too deep
I don’t want to let go
Even though I have to
You help me escape
A life I can’t lead
A life I need to hide
I want you there with me
For the entire ride.
I thought I had it all
But what we had was nothing
Take it with you
I don’t need your exclusion
Leave me with our ever-lasting confusion.
“There’s our number one hit. ‘Confusion’ by Harley Valentine featuring Radioactive.”
My mouth hangs open. “Harley, the label will never go for this. It’s one thing if you sing it on your own. It could be about a girl. You’ll practically out yourself in this if we record it together.”
Harley stands. “Don’t care. Do your thing, work your Jay magic and tweak whatever you need to tweak, and then we’ll record it.”
It’s not the first time I’ve helped him with his lyrics, and some of our best times were doing just this—passing songs back and forth to make them better.
“You might think our love was confusing, but I know that wasn’t the case for me,” Harley says. “The label can go fuck themselves for taking you away from me.”
I want to argue that we would have ended eventually anyway because I definitely would have run into Soren at some point, and from the moment I met him three years ago, I’ve never been able to fight the pull he has on me.
We’re meant to be, and there’s no doubt in my mind.
I don’t want to belittle what Harley and I had because he got me through some rough times on the road and through doubts about my career.
I stand and put my hand on Harley’s shoulder. “Things have worked out the way they were supposed to. One day you’ll see that.”
“I see it now,” Harley says quietly. “I don’t like it. But I see it.” He walks toward the door where Marty and Luce are practically pushed up against it, but he turns back at the last second. “Oh, by the way, after our song’s recorded, I’m kicking you out of this studio.”