Page 41 of All the Forbidden Things

Being the campest gay man I’d ever known, Daniel Milliano has a penchant for the dramatic, which led to his highly successful career as one of the top columnists atSexzy Goz, Britain’s most popular celebrity news show, it makes sense that he would’ve heard my news at work.

“To. The. Core.”

“I’m sorry. I was unconscious and my phone was smashed.”

“For four fucking weeks?”

“My Mac was still in California and only arrived here on Friday, my phone was taken from the scene as evidence, and I still have no clue to its current whereabouts. Kenz only picked me up a new one yesterday. I’m, quite literally, lying in bed, setting it up now.”

“Why didn’t you just jump online and order one?”

I scratch at my temple, which is still a little sore while contemplating my response. “I didn’t wanna see the headlines. I've only just logged into my social media, and my phone has barely stopped vibrating with alerts for the past fifteen minutes.”

“Best not waste that.”

“What?”

“All that vibrating.”

“Eww.”

It’s quiet again for a few more seconds before I add, “I knew whatever you weren’t able to find out through work Kenz would keep you updated on, and she told me that she had.”

“Yeah, but it took her three fucking days,” he complains. “And we were getting nothing from our usual sources. Rumour has it your brother's team had everything surrounding the story shut down tight. Oh, to have a rock star love me that much.”

“He’s my brother, of course he loves me.” I take a second to appreciate how true that statement is before continuing, “And Kenz dropped everything and jumped on a plane with Cal and Mel and flew to be with me. Besides, there was a police investigation going on, she wasn’t allowed to tell you much.”

“I was worried. Terrified.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. The paps have finally stopped camping outside of my house. How about you come over in the week?”

“How about you meet me in the Green Man for a drink and some lunch today?”

“Can’t. Out with the fam today.”

“Lucky you. Anywhere nice?”

“Just over to Max’s.” Despite my heart racing when I say his name, I hope my tone sounds casual.

“Just over to Max’s.” He attempts to mimic my voice. “You say that like you’rejustgoing to your nan’s for Sunday dinner and not to the house of one of the hottest blokes on the planet. The home of your first crush, might I add. And don’t even pretend you’renotnervous, I can hear it in your voice.”

I shrug and let out a huff. We’ve had these conversations so many times now that they bore me. I’m no longer a fan of Max Young. I think he’s a bit of a dick, so why am I just a little nervous to see him?

“Told ya before, he’s just Max: mean, moody, Max. Unless I want to rub him up the wrong way…”

“I’d like to rub him up the wrong way, the right way,anyway—”

“As I was saying . . . if I wanna really provoke him, I just call him Wilma.”

“And he calls you Bamm, yeah, heard the stories before, and it just makes the bloke hotter.”

“How so?” I ask, as my bedroom door opens and Makenzie walks in. I tense as she flops down onto my bed. My ribs are healing but still really sore. I’m so used to holding my breath when there’s any kind of movement around me—it’s become a habit.

“It just makes him more human.”

“He is human, they’re all human. They just also happen to be musicians in a successful band too.”

“And hot.”