Page 26 of Heartbreak Honey

Now

Waking up in the morning, Trevor immediately remembers what happened last night. He. Kissed. Skyler.

Fuck.

He was scared, and then he was so relieved when the fire went out that he couldn’t help himself. Skyler was right there, and everything was confusing, but he wasn’t supposed to do that.

He knows he needs to apologize, so he rehearses it in his head before getting out of bed. But his apology dies on the tip of his tongue as he walks into the main area of the apartment and sees Skyler standing at the stove cooking breakfast in his underwear.

“Um.”

Skyler whips around, spatula in hand, and gives him a full-dimpled smile. “Morning! I’m making banana walnut pancakes with caramel drizzle. Well, caramel drizzle for me. I assume you’ll skip that. But I can make eggs too. Wasn’t sure how hungry you’d be.”

“I—uh.”

Words. You think them, then you say them. It’s easy. He’s been forming sentences since he was three. Writing songs since he was fifteen.

But it’s quite possible that the sight of Skyler’s bare, tattooed thighs, and the bulge in the front of his tight black briefs has liquefied Trevor’s brain. Because words have suddenly become a very elusive thing.

“I talked to my sister super early this morning before she went into the hospital,” Skyler says, ignoring his lack of communication skills. “She should be getting off at seven tonight, barring any crazy emergencies. Which happen a lot, but hopefully they won’t tonight because I’m dying to see her.”

“I’m sure.”

There. Those were words, weren’t they?

Skyler turns back to the stove. “And it’s going to be a gorgeous day, so I thought we could kill time until tonight by exploring the city a bit. Maybe walk the High Line?”

“Right.”

The sight of Skyler’s small, perky ass in the briefs isn’t proving any easier on Trevor’s brain.

Skyler looks over his shoulder. “So do you want some?”

“Wh-what?”

Holy hell, what is happening here?

Skyler turns around again. “Do you want me to make eggs?”

Right. Eggs.

“No, pancakes are enough,” Trevor says, desperately trying to sound calmer than he feels. “This is great. Thank you.”

He manages to avoid looking down at Skyler’s crotch this time, but his eyes land on his toned stomach instead. They can’t seem to make it all the way up to his face.

“Are you okay?”

“What?” He shakes his head. “Yes. Fine.”

“Do you need to take Stella out or will she be okay for a bit?”

“If you give her a few slices of banana, she won’t want to go anywhere.”

Skyler makes a face. Which Trevor sees, because he’s actually looking at his face now. Good, this is good. “She eats bananas?”

“She eats everything.”

Calling Stella over, Skyler crouches down with a small piece of banana in his hand. He holds it out to her, and when she eagerly takes it, slobbering over his fingers in the process, he laughs. He feeds her another piece, then goes to the sink to wash his hands.

“Should I make coffee?” Trevor asks, because having a task might be helpful right now.

“Sure, that’d be great.”

Great.

Coffee.

Pancakes.

He can do this.

If Skyler’s not going to mention last night, then Trevor’s not either. And yes, he recognizes this as Skyler giving him an easy out, but he’s too pathetic not to take it.

He fixes Skyler a cup of coffee and sets it on the counter beside the stove for him, then sits at the breakfast bar with his own cup while he watches Skyler cook. If they were still together, he would go stand right behind him. Press his thumbs into the indents of Skyler’s lower back, make him let out one of his soft, pleased sighs that used to be reserved only for Trevor.

But they’re not together.

So Trevor just stares. Gets his fill while Skyler’s back is turned, and tries to convince himself he can live without the rest.

He hasn’t been very successful by the time Skyler finishes with their breakfast.

Skyler slides a plate of pancakes onto the counter for him before going back to get himself a plate. But after setting it down, he pauses, looking from the food to Trevor, and then down at the floor. He runs a hand through his tangled hair, only making it worse. “I should put on some clothes, sorry. I didn’t expect you to wake up so early. I’ll be right back.”

When he rushes off to get dressed, Trevor wants to beg him not to, but he knows that’s absolutely the wrong response. And once Skyler comes back wearing dark gray sweatpants and a baggy Rolling Stones T-shirt, half his hair pulled back in a ponytail, Trevor has a slightly easier time focusing.

But only slightly, because seeing him in the relaxed, morning outfit is almost as devastating as seeing him in his tightest, most revealing clothing. In a way, it’s worse, because it reminds Trevor of every relaxed morning they ever spent together. But it’s easier to handle than Skyler in his fucking underwear, that’s for sure.

“What were you saying about the High Line?” Trevor asks as he cuts into his pancakes.

“I thought we could go out and walk around a bit today.”

“Is that safe?”

Skyler frowns. “I could ask Mike to come with us if you want.”

Trevor didn’t mean safe as in, Are we going to get mugged? He meant it as in, What if people recognize us?

“No, you don’t have to,” he says. “I just, uh, don’t exactly want people to know I’m here.”

“With me,” Skyler adds bluntly.

“It’s not like that,” he lies.

God, here he is lying to this man who’s been nothing but good to him. He’s a horrible person. But he knows exactly what will happen if he and Skyler are spotted out in public together, the media frenzy it’ll stir up. Especially after Skyler already started the stirring by talking about him in that interview.

And thinking about the media makes Trevor think about all the problems they had back in the band days—the toll that being forced to keep their relationship a secret had taken on them. He knows how much he hurt Skyler by wanting to keep it a secret even when Skyler didn’t. When Skyler was ready to shout it to the world, completely unafraid of the consequences.

Skyler must know he’s lying now, but he doesn’t say anything to contradict him.

Trevor mumbles a, “Sorry,” as if that makes up for it. As if it makes up for anything.

“Hey.” Skyler drops his fork and takes Trevor’s hand in both of his. “I completely understand why you don’t want people to know you’re with me, and I’m not going to let you sit here and feel bad about it.”

He looks down at their hands, at his tucked away safely in Skyler’s slightly larger ones, and wishes, not for the first time, that they’d met under different circumstances. That neither of them had become famous. But that’s not fair to Skyler, who wears his fame so beautifully. And it wouldn’t be fair to deprive the world of the joy of watching Skyler James perform. Skyler was born for this life.

Trevor was born for… something else. He’s just not sure what.

“I do think checking out the city sounds fun,” he concedes. Because he can do this. He can take this step.

Skyler runs a thumb over his palm and then releases his hand, picking up his fork and casually spearing a piece of pancake like he doesn’t even realize how much he affects him. How his touch is what holds Trevor together. “I really think it’ll be fine,” he says. “I don’t get spotted here nearly as much as I do in L.A. There are so many people, and most are tourists staring up at the buildings, or locals trying to get around them to be where they need to be on time. And we can wear hats and sunglasses.”

When Trevor agrees to go out, Skyler attempts to hide his smile by bringing a huge bite of pancake up to his mouth, but Trevor sees it anyway.

They finish their breakfasts and then go to their rooms to change. Trevor grabs a long-sleeved shirt, hooks his sunglasses over the neck of it, and throws on a baseball cap.

When he steps into the hall, Skyler’s door is still closed, so he raps once with his knuckles. He only intends to let Skyler know he’s ready, but Skyler calls out, “Come in.”

Skyler’s standing at the large dresser, running his fingers over all his rings in a small ceramic tray. Trevor wonders what happened to the ring he got him. The first one. He got him multiple rings over the years, but the rest were just stuff he thought looked cool. That first one he’d had engraved with the heart and the date was special.

Naturally, Skyler stopped wearing it after they broke up—and yes, Trevor hates to admit that whenever he’s watched one of Skyler’s performances, he’s always looked for it on his finger, despite knowing it won’t be there. But did he get rid of it? Toss it in the trash like it meant nothing? And could Trevor blame him if he did? Trevor’s the one who threw away their entire relationship, after all.

He watches Skyler select one ring, a thick silver one with a creamy white stone, and slide it onto his index finger. It looks like an opal, which Trevor only knows because it’s his own birthstone.

Skyler turns to him with a smile. He kept on the clothes he had, but added a lightweight navy-blue zip-up hoodie, and his hair is now hidden under a gray beanie. “Ready,” he says. Then—“Oh, wait.” He turns back to the dresser and grabs a pair of sunglasses, putting them on before facing Trevor again. They’re bright red and heart-shaped, and he’s been photographed wearing them in public numerous times.

Trevor shakes his head fondly, because he looks adorable, but that’s too noticeable. “No. You need to put on boring ones like everyone else, please.”

He can’t see it, but he assumes Skyler rolls his eyes behind the glasses. Then with a sigh, Skyler says, “Fine.” He pulls them off and replaces them with a plain black pair. “Happy? Now I look like every other person out on the street.”

“Yes, I’m happy,” Trevor says.

But inside he’s thinking that no, Skyler could never look like that. Even trying to go incognito, he still gives off this aura of divineness.

Damn, that’s corny.

But it’s true. Skyler James is otherworldly, that’s for sure.

Or maybe that’s just how Trevor sees him.

“I’ve got to walk Stella real quick first,” he tells Skyler when they’re back in the living area.

Skyler frowns. “Aren’t we taking her with us?”

“Oh.” He hesitates. “Are you sure that’s not too much trouble?”

Skyler takes a step closer. He runs a hand over Trevor’s shoulder blade and down his back, letting it settle casually on his hip. Like this is normal. Like he’s not setting Trevor’s body on fire. “How would that be any trouble at all? We’re walking, she needs to walk. It’ll be great.”

Trevor glances down at Stella, who’s watching them with interest. He wishes she could explain to him what the hell Skyler is trying to do here, because he has no idea. But the simple fact that Skyler likes his dog, that he thinks about her needs, makes him happier than it probably should.

Because this thing they’re doing, whatever it is, it’s not a relationship. It shouldn’t matter that Skyler and Stella have bonded. But it does. It matters. Everything related to Skyler matters to him.

When they get outside, Skyler points them in the direction of the High Line, but it’ll be a bit of a walk before they can get to an entrance, so they stroll leisurely, taking in everything. Trevor’s hat and sunglasses offer him decent protection, but that doesn’t stop him from keeping his eyes peeled for anyone who might recognize them.

Despite his nerves, he does enjoy himself. He runs into a café to grab them coffees, and then as they walk down the street, Trevor admiring the murals on the sides of buildings and Skyler smiling at every stranger they pass, he thinks about how nice it would be if this could be their everyday life.

If only.

There’s one incident where Skyler stops in front of a small outdoor gardening shop to coo over a row of succulents, taking his time trying to pick out the best ones, and Trevor notices a small group of girls standing not too far off watching him. They seem to be trying to place why Skyler looks familiar, and Trevor quickly ducks around the corner into an alleyway with Stella, hiding like a criminal, in case they figure it out.

When Skyler finds him there a few minutes later, confusion etched over his face, Trevor pretends Stella had dragged him off to sniff something. He stubbornly ignores the disbelieving look Skyler gives him and, after peeking around the corner and finding the girls have gone, takes off walking again.

“Did you get what you wanted?” he asks, nodding his head toward the array of plants in tiny ceramic pots that Skyler is now cradling in his arms like they’re babies.

“Yeah, they’re lovely, don’t you think? I wanted to brighten up the apartment a bit.”

“Sounds nice,” Trevor says.

But really, he doesn’t see the point in getting plants for the apartment when they’ll die once he and Skyler leave. They should already be making plans to get back to L.A., but he knows Skyler hasn’t gotten to see his sister yet and is looking forward to it. So he’ll wait until after tonight to bring it up.

Later that evening, Layla texts Skyler and suggests they meet her at a dive bar near the hospital. Trevor’s wary of the idea. He figured they’d hang out with her at the apartment, since she and Skyler live in the same building. But he can tell Skyler’s excited about going out, and he doesn’t want to disappoint him, so he agrees. Layla swears the place is always so dead she has no idea how it even stays open, that it might actually be a front for a drug ring, and all Trevor can do is hope that’s true. The no people part, not the drug ring.

This time when Skyler says they can take Mike with them, though, he doesn’t disagree.

Mike drives them, because even Skyler knows they can’t hop in an Uber together. Layla’s going to meet them there and then get a ride back with them after.

It takes a while to find the place. (Layla’s right; it looks like a total dive from the outside. A neon sign beside the door says drinks—only the r is burnt out, so it actually says dinks.) Then Mike has to circle the block looking for a parking space. But finally, they walk in, Trevor and Skyler with their hats on and heads down. Luckily, the room is dimly lit and the only person inside is a male bartender who must be in his fifties.

There’s a small bar on one side, three high-top tables along another wall, and two high-backed booths against the third wall. Trevor points toward the booths since they offer the most privacy, and Skyler asks Mike to order them two Jack and Cokes before following Trevor over to one.

Skyler sits down opposite Trevor and, judging by the concerned eyebrows, notices Trevor”s rigid posture. He’s trying to relax, he is, but being out like this is a little nerve-wracking. Sure, there’s no one else here right now, but all it takes is one person. One stealthily shot photograph, and his and Skyler’s names will be linked together in ten article headlines by tomorrow morning.

“This is fine, right?” Skyler asks. “You’re good?”

No, he wouldn’t say he’s good right now. But he wants Skyler to enjoy the night with his sister, so he nods. And when Mike comes over with their drinks, he immediately takes a long sip of his, welcoming that first slight burn of the alcohol going down his throat.

Mike sits next to Skyler with a glass of water for himself, and to Trevor’s questioning look, he shrugs and says, “Working.”

Right.

How could he forget Mike’s here as Skyler’s personal bodyguard? Because Skyler is so fucking famous now that he needs a bodyguard just to go out to a bar. Trevor really shouldn’t be here with him.

He nods and takes another longer pull of his drink, not wanting Skyler to pick up again on how he’s wound too tightly. Layla’s not even here yet. He needs to relax. For Skyler’s sake. So he asks Mike how he’s enjoying the impromptu trip to the city, and as Mike answers, Trevor sucks down more than half his drink, and the conversation flows easier from there.

Suddenly, the door opens, and Trevor jerks his head to see who’s coming in, relieved when it’s only Layla. But when she spots them and grins as she rushes over to their booth, his nerves come back full force. He hasn’t seen her in years, and back then she was like a sister to him. What the hell does that make her now?

Because he was never really her brother, and after how badly he hurt her actual brother, he wouldn’t blame her if she hasn’t forgiven him.

“Oh my god, hi!” she squeals.

Skyler jumps up, shooing Mike out of the booth so he can get out to hug her. “I’ve missed you so much,” he says, bending down to nuzzle his face into the shoulder of her purple scrub top.

“Superstar, you have no idea,” she replies fondly.

Trevor witnesses the sweet moment between them with an ache in his chest.

When Skyler finally lets her go, Layla’s eyes land on Trevor, and they somehow don’t lose any of their brightness. “Well, Trev, don’t I get a hug?”

He gulps down all his conflicting emotions and slides out of the booth. When she wraps her arms around his waist, it feels for a second like the last five years haven’t happened. He hugs her back, struggling to find his voice.

“It’s good to see you,” he tells her after they break apart. Good, and a lot of other more complicated things too.

“It’s been forever,” she says.

Trevor tries not to flinch at the reminder that the last five years were real. That he and Skyler were supposed to have a forever together, but instead they had a forever apart.

He manages a nod in response.

Mercifully, she turns her attention to Mike then, who’s sitting back down in the booth. Her grin returns. “And hey to you too, big guy. Mind if I sit by you?” She slides in without waiting for an answer, forcing him to scoot over.

“What have I told you about flirting with my security?” Skyler chastises her, and Trevor recognizes their familiar way of teasing each other.

When Skyler nods at Trevor to get back in the booth, he realizes they’ll be sitting on the same side now. It’s fine. This is fine.

“Honestly, Trevor,” Layla says to him, reaching across the table to pat his forearm, “I’m so happy you’re here with Sky.”

“Uh. Me too,” he says. And then, because he’s not doing so great with the whole relaxing thing—“We should do shots to celebrate, right?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Skyler looking at him, but he refuses to turn and see what kind of look it is.

Layla laughs and says, “We should!”

Then she gets up and runs off to the bar, and when she comes back, she sets four tiny glasses on the table. The shots look layered, with a darker liquor on the bottom and a lighter one on top.

“Mind Erasers!” she announces, sitting down beside Mike again.

“Perfect,” Trevor says, reaching for his right away.

He catches Skyler’s hesitation before he picks up his own shot. But Skyler’s an adult, and no one’s forcing him to take it. Trevor doesn’t want to worry about Skyler’s former drinking problem right now. Or anything else.

The three of them clink glasses before throwing back the shots. As he sets his empty glass down, Trevor notices Mike didn’t touch his. So he grabs it and downs it without hesitation, over the sound of Skyler’s protest.

He’s a little looser now as Layla tells them about her shift at the hospital. When he feels Skyler’s thumb pressing into the side of his thigh, he knows it’s Skyler’s way of checking on him, but it’s not necessary. Because he’s fine. And he’d be even more fine with another drink. He makes quick work of finishing off his first one, then interrupts whatever Skyler’s saying to Layla to tell him to move.

Skyler raises an eyebrow at him, and Trevor sighs. “I want to get another drink.”

“Are you sure you don’t need to slow down?” Skyler asks gently. “Maybe wait a bit?”

“Are you my mother?” he snarks back, making Skyler’s eyes go wide. And shit. His mom. Add that to the list of things he doesn’t want to think about right now. “Just let me out.”

Skyler shakes his head, and Trevor’s about to go off on him, but then he says, “Mike can get it for you.”

“Oh, okay, yeah.”

Trevor probably shouldn’t do face-to-face time with the bartender. The alcohol made him forget. But forgetting feels good, so when Mike returns with another Jack and Coke for him, he starts sucking it down purposefully. He sits there listening to Skyler and Layla bantering with each other as he drinks, and he forgets to be worried about being caught in public with Skyler. He’s happy that Skyler’s happy.