Page 23

Me and Kas groan. Mitch scored sexiest man alive ten years ago, and he’ll never let us forget it. But he is good looking with his intense eyes, tattoos everywhere, and piercings glinting in the lights. Bad-boy looks with a kind heart and a halfway decent singing voice.

Kas bumps Mitch with his elbow. “Let it go, man. You got a pity vote, that’s all.”

“Hater.”

The two of them bicker back and forth, ribbing each other like we used to when we were playing with Vic in my garage. It’s nice to see that some things never change.

Kas and Mitch have been best friends since they were in diapers, their mothers growing up together and moving to the same neighborhood when they graduated high school. I’m honored they accepted me into their circle, even though I didn’t appreciate it before.

When the server brings our food back, he mumbles, “Can I have an autograph?”

I look at Mitch and Kas, then shrug. “Got a pen?”

The way the young server’s face lights up has me smiling. I didn’t realize people would be this ecstatic with just my shitty signature on a piece of paper.

He passes me a pen from his apron and a napkin with a shaking hand. I scroll my autograph on it and pass it to my bandmates. They sign under my name, and Mitch gives it back to the server.

He holds the napkin to his chest reverently. “Thank you. I’ve been a fan for years. I can’t wait to tell my friends you were here today. They’re going to flip.”

I should have done this a long time ago. Making people happy by doing something so small actually makes me happy. I can’t wait to tell Jaxon about this.

He makes to step away from the table, then turns around and looks at me. “Any chance you’ll reform the band? I had tickets to the Spokane show since the one here in Seattle was sold out, but it got canceled. It was going to be my first concert.”

Well fuck, that deflates me. Not enough to get drawn into a pissy mood but enough that the fucking mirror I thought I got rid of is back in my fucking face.

If I weren’t so strung out, we would have been there.

It was the last stop on our tour, and I should have been focused on that more than I was on using.

Pasting on a smile I’m sure doesn’t reach my eyes, I say, “You never know. I needed some time to get my shit together, but something may change in the future.”

You’d think I told the kid there was cure for cancer.

He does this little giggle thing, then kinda dances in place.

He realizes he’s at work and stops, smoothing the front of his apron, but the look of joy is etched on his face.

“I hope you do. Your music really helped me when I was having a hard time. I met my friends through a message board about Lana’s Mischief.

So…thank you.” His cheeks turn red, and he hurries away as if embarrassed.

That touches me. I always thought our music was just something to pass the time, not a reason someone had friends.

Mitch sighs dramatically. “That’s what being a celebrity is all about, gentlemen. Making kids dance like they’re alone in the middle of their shift.”

Kas and I laugh at him and dig into our food.

Conversation flows between us like it did before I went to rehab; I’m glad I don’t have anything to worry about.

It would be better if Vic had grown old to join us, but I don’t think either of us would have stopped using.

We loved getting high together too much .

We continue chatting even after we finish our food, laughing at old jokes and telling stories.

“Remember,” Kas says, holding his side as he tries to keep from laughing, “when Vic told you that Janet was waiting outside for you, and when you went onto your porch, we sprayed you with those water guns?”

I give him a dry look. “Yeah, dumbass. I had just dyed my hair black, and it ran all down my neck and shoulders.” Kas and Mitch crack up laughing, and after a few seconds, I join in. “I looked like a fucking fool.”

“And Janet didn’t let you forget it,” Mitch tacks on.

I shrug, smiling like a fool. “Yeah, but I still dated her, so who won?”

“You did, oh wise one,” he says, bowing to me.

“Thank you, thank you,” I say, mock-bowing in return.

Kas sighs, smiling at me and Mitch. “If we never get back together, I want you both to know that it’s been an honor to rock out with you two. We had a good run, huh?”

I nod. “Yeah, we did. It could have been longer if I wasn’t on my bullshit.”

“Don’t blame yourself. We knew what was going on, and we didn’t step in. We owe you an apology for that,” Kas says, a frown marring his face. “We didn’t know how bad it was.”

“No one did. I didn’t show you. And it wasn’t your responsibility to make me stop using. I’m an adult. I should have done it on my own.”

Mitch leans forward. “How are you handling everything?”

I blow out a long breath. “It’s hard. Fuck, is it hard.

” I push my hands through my short hair.

I’m still not used to it, even weeks later.

I look down at my hands. “Some days are better than others. It’s made worse because I’m out of rehab, where I can go anywhere and do what I want.

Only my willpower is keeping me from getting drunk.

But,” I look up at them, seeing their sad expressions, “I think I’m doing okay. ”

“That’s good, man. We’re happy for you.”

“Thanks. Also…” I pause for a few beats, wondering if I should tell them everything, but fuck it. They’re my best friends. “I want a chance to be worthy of my friend. My high school friend. Jaxon. Well, to be more than his friend, really.” I rub the back of my neck in embarrassment.

Their expressions change from sadness to surprise.

I wait for the shoe to drop, my heart thumping as I hold my breath for their response.

Mitch’s mouth tips up in a half-smile. “You had friends before us?” He puts a hand to his chest. “Ryder, you wound me.”

A relieved breath leaves me. We’ve never talked about my bisexuality, as I’ve never even kissed another man besides Jaxon. I never felt the need to bring it up because I never acted on it.

“Wesley…please call me Wesley. Ryder was the old me, my old life. I want to move forward, you know?”

They both shrug.

“Wesley it is,” Kas says.

Before we can say more, a high-pitched scream comes from a few feet away. We look up at the girl that’s staring at us, jumping up and down.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!” she chants over and over again.

“Hey, darlin’,” Mitch says with a friendly wave.

“OH MY GOD!”

After that, we’re swarmed, people passing us things to sign and asking for photos with us. We take it in stride, signing and posing. Thankfully, no one but Mitch and Kas touch me while we pose for pictures. I might have bolted if someone did.

After close to an hour, the crowd shows no sign of thinning. The manager finally has enough and gets some of his people to escort us out to a cab he called for us so we can make a getaway.

When we climb into the back, we all fall into what can only be described as giggles. We’re so fucking tickled that we don’t stop laughing until we’re at the Plymouth.

We stumble out of the car and walk towards the hotel, errant chuckles leaving our throats.

After we push through the doors, we stop in the lobby, our eyes still dancing with mirth.

“Thank you both,” I say. “That was…that was fucking fun. I never knew meeting fans would be a such good time.”

“Right? They’re usually tamer than that. But I like the feral ones too,” Kas says.

“Come here,” Mitch says, holding his phone up. “Let’s get a pic. It’s been a while since we’ve taken one together.”

I stand beside Mitch with Kas on his right. He snaps like ten pictures before I tell him to cut the shit because my face hurts from smiling so much.

They both give me a long hug, rocking me side to side when I tell them I’m going to head back to Tourneville.

“I’m glad you two came,” I say honestly. “Come visit again, yeah? I’ll show you where I lived before I moved to Cali.”

“We’d love to see it,” Mitch says, squeezing my shoulder.

My skin crawls from his touch, and I step away from him—I’ve reached my limit for touch for the day.

I wish I could be normal and not feel like every touch I don’t see coming is almost vomit-inducing.

“And we wanna meet this friend that’s not really your friend because there was no way you had friends before us. ”

I bark a laugh to cover how I moved back. “Yeah, keeping telling yourself that. How long will you two be in town?”

“Another few days. We’re going to do the tourist thing before we head back. If you’re free, catch up with us one more time, okay?”

I nod and give them a two-fingered salute before I head out, feeling lighter than I have in years.

Connecting with my bandmates was better than I thought it would be. They still accept me and think of me as one of them.

As I get into my car, my phone pings ten times, and I know it’s Mitch, sending me each photo individually. “Dick,” I mumble with a smirk.

I find the best-looking one and send it to Jaxon with a message that says, “We had a great time.”

His message isn’t long in coming, and that lightness in my chest spreads throughout my body.

Jaxon: I knew you would. I’m really happy for you.

Me: Thanks. Can I see you this weekend?

Jaxon: I can do you one better. Do you want to hang out tomorrow? I’m off.

God, I might float away from the weightlessness I feel.

Me: Name the time and place.

Jaxon: My house at six am.

That’s usually when I wake up and do yoga, but I can skip it for one day, especially if I’m hanging out with Jaxon.

Me: I’ll be there.

Then, being bold, I send a follow up text.

Me: I can’t wait.