Page 26 of Dedicated
Maybe Les was right. All of it was just a show, and even if he was naturally better at it, I still knew how to perform—I thought I’d proven that well enough in the parking lot. I was doing it long before I met him, though, passing out charming smiles like they were candy as I shoved drinks at strangers, spilling bits and pieces of my history in smoky bars with my guitar over my lap, singing my ass off on street corners in the hopes of one more dollar or the right ear to hear me.
So I’d say I was a good showman, but when I’d leaned in to Les, I’d had a strong expectation that my kiss would be perfectly executed and yet still feel wooden and mechanical. It hadn’t. Not at all. The cadence of my pulse increased with each velvety collision of our tongues, and little pinpoints of pleasure lit up over my shoulders like stars in a cage. When I’d been pressed up against him, a rumble of sound thrummed in his chest and vibrated over his tongue, like pleasure I could taste, and it had felt as natural between us as when we traded riffs back and forth. But this was a different language, and kissing Les should have been nothing, but it wasn’t. It was something else entirely.
Les didn’t know the half of it. No one really did. Sometimes I didn’t thinkIdid. But I’d understood for a long time I was a little different. A random pair of tits didn’t leave me with a slavering erection. Or for that matter, a random cock. Les’s cornucopia of meaningless sex didn’t just seem pointless to me, but unappealing. I took flak—mostly good-natured—left and right for turning down easy lays, but I didn’t want them. I could jerk off to porn in the instances I got horny with the same effect. I wanted connection, the same thing I wanted in my music. A song was just free-floating notes until you grounded it with a story. For a long time I’d thought something was wrong with my libido. At fifteen, every guy around me was popping boners over short skirts while I was more interested in fiddling with my guitar or a keyboard. What few relationships I’d had led me to figure out there wasn’t anything wrong with my libido; it just had a more restrictive admissions policy than what seemed like the other ninety-eight percent of the population. I was cool with that and managed okay, and honestly it was kind of nice to not feel some deep quaking need to be with another person or get off that seemed to make everyone around me act crazy.
And that’s what was dangerous about that fucking kiss setting me on fire. Les was exactly the opposite of me. He was boundless, and nothing and no one would ever be enough for him. Certainly not me.
As I heated water on the stove for some ramen after unloading the groceries, I stood there watching the bubbles begin to rise, silently listing twenty different reasons I was going through with this farce—for the music, for continued financial security, for my mom, for myself—and trying to number them in importance. But it kept shifting around on me, and I found myself looping back to that damn kiss and Les.
Later that night,we tooled around in the basement, not really working together, and not really talking, either. It wasn’t uncomfortable between us, though there was this sense of… carefulness in the air. Maybe it was just me. Les seemed completely immune to the kind of doubt and questioning that kiss had stirred up in me, which in its own way was comforting. He was just being himself. We hadn’t spoken any more about what happened in the parking lot, and I wondered if he was as shell-shocked as I was or if it was just another day at the office for him. We’d both called our parents and explained the situation so they wouldn’t be surprised by whatever headlines might come out. My mom’s reaction had been a measured, thoughtful silence that became a lot of questions I did my best to answer, and then tentative support. She was always supportive, even if she didn’t have a lick of an inclination toward music or any interest in its inner workings.
And then there was Leigh. I glanced at the phone when it lit up on the coffee table where I’d set it and sighed when I saw her name pop up. Briefly, I considered not taking it, because I’d had about enough for one day. But Les was deeply involved with his notebook, and I figured I might as well get it over with. Even after years in the business, it still mystified me sometimes how fast gossip could become a headline. I hadn’t even checked the internet, assuming we’d have a reprieve of at least a couple of days before the photos from the grocery store emerged. That was the only logical reason I could imagine for her call, though.
“Leigh,” I said, waving the phone in Les’s direction as I stood.
Les glanced up with the glaze-eyed look he got when he was wrapped up in something and nodded. “Good luck.”
I didn’t need luck. I needed a time machine that would transport me back to that night six months ago where I would have, instead of taking Ella’s hand, walked off to my bedroom.
I took the phone out onto the porch where a light rain had started falling. Raindrops pinged off the railing, creating a soothing white-noise backdrop as I accepted the call.
“If this is true, it means you were cheating on me,” she said after my cautious greeting.
“I’ve never cheated on you. You know I wouldn’t do that.” The tone of her voice had me wincing as I stood under the overhang of the roof, leaning against the sliding door and already regretting answering.
“So this is all just made up, then? Even the threesome thing? Like a publicity stunt?”
“The threesome is true. But—” I raised my voice when she started to interject. “It happened before you and I ever got together. And I regret the hell out of it, in case you’re wondering. It was a stupid, stupid fucking idea.”
A long silence followed. What I’d always liked about Leigh was that she wasn’t impulsive. She was reliable and even-keeled like me. Maybe that had been the problem with us, I didn’t know. We were so similar that after a while it felt like we were just… partners or something. I couldn’t honestly say I knew for sure what love was supposed to feel like, but I was pretty sure what I felt for Leigh was caring, not love, and the only reason I’d been so upset about her breaking up with me was that it was just one more reminder of something I’d attempted and fucked up.
“That’s so unlike you, though.” Her voice was soft, and she sounded hurt, which sent an unmitigated pang of sadness through me. I’d never wanted to hurt her.
“It is. Or itwas, which is just one of the many reasons why I told you I regretted it. But I’m telling you I wasn’t screwing around on you.”
“So this picture of you and Les sucking face in the parking lot this afternoon is bullshit?” I could imagine her on the other end of the line, the tremor of anger in her voice drawing her mouth down. The entire time we’d dated, we’d never even argued once.
“Yeah. Our publicist thinks it’ll be a good lead in to our next album.” I gritted my teeth and thumped my head back against the glass door a couple of times.
She choked out a laugh. “God, you’re becoming part of the machine.”
I had no defense, so I didn’t say anything.
“It looks so… real.” Her voice had taken on that soft, small tone again that settled in my chest like a weight and made me sigh.
“It’s not.” I’d never thought I was a good liar, which was why I didn’t do it often. And I wasn’t sure that was what I was doing now, exactly, because Les and I were faking a relationship, but the feelings that kiss stirred up inside me were too raw to ignore, and there was no way I could explain something I hadn’t figured out for myself yet.
Maybe she could tell, because there was a note of doubt in her voice when she spoke next. “Are you sure? Because I wouldn’t be surprised. I’ve sometimes wondered if Les has a thing for you.”
I let out an incredulous laugh. “Les has a thing for anything that’s remotely attractive and alive.”
“Mm-hmm.” She didn’t sound convinced, but I was ready to get off this topic and wrap up the conversation before it spiraled.
“Listen, I’m sorry about everything, Leigh. I was a shitty boyfriend, and you deserve much better.”
“No, you were a great boyfriend, Ev—you just weren’t into me the way I was you. I don’t know if you ever were.”
I wentback downstairs and found Les on the couch, leaned back deep into the cushions that had long since lost their shape, his legs kicked up on the coffee table and his guitar slung loosely across his lap while he stared at the ceiling, strumming a few aimless chords. I carried my laptop with me and set it up on the coffee table, pushing his feet aside to make room.