Page 25

TREY

Like the bestest friend a man can have, Liz rushes to me as soon as I call out for her. “What’s wrong, T?” she asks.

I grip her arm to steady myself as I lean toward her ear. “I swear to you, I haven’t done drugs for over a year, but I think I’m hallucinating right now.”

“What?”

My lungs feel full of shrapnel as I prepare to hear her tell me I’m losing it. “I see her . In the bleachers.”

Liz turns to glance behind me, then her eyes go wide and she lowers her voice. “You’re not hallucinating. I see her too. Are you okay?”

I draw in a deep breath of relief and nod. It’s good to know I’m not hallucinating. “Did you know she was gonna be here?”

“Nope. Do you want me to get Monique to ask her to leave?”

“No.” Absolutely not. I don’t know why she’s here, but I’ve been dying to see her. Whatever force of nature brought her here today, I’m grateful for it.

“Then do you think you can hit us a home run so we can all go home sometime, oh, I dunno... today?”

“Yeah, I’ll try to pull myself together.”

“I believe in you, T.” With that, Liz returns to the dugout.

I resist the urge to glance back at the bleachers—at her . Instead, I suck in a long breath and slowly let it out.

I do it again.

Then again.

My zerapist told me that deep breathing can be helpful when I feel like I can’t control my emotions. I need it to work right now. Otherwise, Liz is right and we’ll be here all day.

If I had known Arella was in the stands this whole time, I would have tried harder to hit this homer. Now I’m determined to nail the next one.

“You good?” Mateo asks.

“Yep,” I lie, then raise my bat into the air.

He flashes the cameramen two thumbs up. “Action!”

The pitcher readies himself, then underhands the ball to me. I eye the ball as it hurls toward me. Then I swing.

Crack!

My bat hits the ball just right, and the ball flies through the air until it lands on the other side of the fence. As the crowd goes wild, I go for a run around the bases. At home plate, someone dumps water over my head as my fake softball team surrounds me with cheers and slaps on the back.

The cameramen rush over to film our celebration, reminding me that I’m supposed to be smiling. I can’t look at her. I can’t look at her.

Once Mateo gets all the footage he needs, he calls out, “That’s a wrap!”

Monique grabs the microphone from him. “Thank you, everyone! Extras, if you’d like a picture with the band, please line up behind this dugout.”

Liz hands me a white towel as the people around me disperse. “I knew you could do it.”

“I had to once I knew she was watching.” I dry off the back of my neck, then my hair.

“She and her friend are getting into the picture line. Do you think you can handle that?”

“Probably not, but I’ll do my best.”

I spend the next twenty-some minutes taking pictures with fans and mentally preparing myself to see her again. What I don’t mentally prepare for is not seeing her at all. When Javina appears from the other side of the dugout, she struts her way onto the field—alone.

Excited energy radiates off her as she hands her phone to Monique. We all smile for the camera, Javina says a few words of praise to my bandmates, then she leaves. The entire time, I hold my tongue back from asking her where Arella is. As the next person in line steps out, I feel Liz’s eyes on me.

She mouths, “You okay?”

I only stare at her because I don’t know the answer to that.

Why didn’t Arella come out? Where did she go?

Did she not want to see me? That last thought hurts the most because I wanted to see her more than anything.

Even if we didn’t speak to each other, it would have made me happy just to see her.

To get a better view of what she looks like now.

To hear if she still sounds the same. Maybe I could have wrapped my arm around her shoulder for the three seconds it takes for Monique to snap a photo.

The next smiles I make feel harder to fake.

Once the band is done meeting with the last person in line, I glance behind the dugout for her.

She’s not there. A heavy stone sinks into my stomach as I force my feet into the concession stand, where I’ve left all my things.

The rest of the band’s stuff is in here too.

Otherwise, it’s vacant. My bandmates are still out there, chatting with some fans who have stuck around.

I focus on sucking in deep breaths as I drag my semi-dry jersey over my head and slip into a black V-neck. Then I brace my hands against the wall and try to gather myself.

Deep breath in. Slow breath out.

Deep breath in. Slow breath out.

This deep-breathing bullshit isn’t working.

What else has my zerapist taught me to help control my panic attacks?

I can’t remember them right now. What good can those methods do me if I can’t fucking remember them?

Maybe I should get them tattooed onto my inner left forearm, next to the other tattoo I got recently.

Suddenly, the door pops open.

“How ya doing, T?”

I push away from the wall and plaster on a face that will make Liz think I’m not breaking down. “I’m trying not to look into it too much.”

“That she didn’t come to meet the band?”

“Yeah,” I say somberly as my gaze dips to my feet.

“How do you feel about that?”

Devastated. Destroyed. Incinerated by a hundred fireballs. “When I look at it from her point of view, I understand. What reason does she have to see me? If I had to guess, I’m gonna say Javina dragged her here without her knowing it.”

“I’m sorry, T. Do you think you can keep it together for just a little longer? There are two very eager fans standing outside, waiting for you.”

“What do they want?”

“They asked if they could get a picture with just you. I told them I’d ask you first. If you don’t think you can handle it, I can tell them to leave.”

I draw in a long breath, then let it out. “I think I can handle that.”

Liz places a gentle gloved hand over my forearm. “You are welcome to break down all you want when we get home, okay? We can order pizza and do whatever you need to feel better.”

I pull her in for a firm hug. “Thanks, Liz. I love you so much.”

Something I’ve been working on with my zerapist is getting over my fear of saying I love you.

Through many, many, many sessions together, my zerapist concluded that one of my biggest regrets is not telling Arella sooner that I loved her.

Now I make it a point to tell Liz whenever I think of it, because someday, I may not get the chance to.

“I love you too, T-Bear.” Liz stands on her toes to place a short kiss on my cheek, just as the door opens.

Kevin, our bass guitarist, freezes and stares at us, wide-eyed as the door shuts behind him. His emotions match his expression. “Uh, did I just see somethin’ I shouldn’t have?”

“You’re good, Kev,” Liz says with a nonchalant wave of her hand.

“Um, okaaay?” He looks like he’s about to ask a question, then he puts his arms up in surrender. “You know what? It ain’t my business.”

Liz and I kiss each other in private all the time. Usually, she kisses my cheek and I kiss her hand or her forehead. It’s not romantic, but if someone doesn’t understand the type of relationship Liz and I have, I’m sure they think otherwise.

With all the rumors that have been spreading online about Liz and me lately, catching us in a private moment like that probably makes Kevin think those rumors are true.

I don’t care enough to say otherwise. I’ve never felt the need to explain my relationship with Liz, and I’m not about to start now.

I grab my duffel bag, then head toward the door. “I’ma go take a picture with those fans, ’kay?”

“When you’re done, come back to get me,” Liz says.

“Yes, Mom,” I say, because she hates it when I call her that.

Liz rewards my nickname for her with an eyeroll.

As I step out of the concession stand, two women approach me with thrilled yet flustered energy.

“Trey,” Pink Hair Girl says.

“Hi, ladies.” I don’t bother with faking a smile, because I’m gonna have to when I take the photos with them. I only have so much energy for faking it. “Liz told me you guys want a picture.”

“Yes, please.”

I set my bag to the side, then place an arm around Pink Hair Girl’s shoulders first. Her friend snaps a photo, then they switch places and I fake smile again.

“These look great!” the brunette says as she checks the pictures.

I don’t bother looking because I don’t care.

“So,” Pink Hair Girl says, “I told you earlier that if you hit the next ball, my friend would let you take her out on a date. You must have really wanted that date.”

The brunette flashes me a hopeful smile.

I slap a hand over my chest. “Sorry, ladies. I’m seeing someone right now.”

Their faces drop. “You are?”

I nod as convincingly as I can. “Yep.”

“Like, is it serious?” Pink Hair Girl asks.

“Pretty serious.”

“Who is it?”

“I can’t say. We’re, um, keeping things private.”

“It’s Liz, isn’t it?” the brunette says. “It’s gotta be Liz.”

I could have guessed they’d say that. Our fans seem to think that it’s impossible for two people as close as Liz and me to be single for this long and not fuck each other. To me, what’s actually impossible is the idea of having meaningful intimacy with anyone but Arella. “No, it’s not Liz.”

“Are you sure? Because we could have sworn we just saw you two kissing when Kevin opened that door.”

Of course they saw that. “Is there anything else I can do for you ladies? If not, I’ve gotta get going.”

Disappointment slams into their guts as they shove their phones back into their pockets. “Thanks for the picture, Trey.”

“You’re welcome. Have a good night.” I toss my duffel bag over my shoulder, then open the concession stand door. Kevin is sitting on a chair, typing on his phone. Liz is tying up her shirt in the front.

“You ready?” I ask.

“Just a sec.” Liz spends a minute switching her sneakers out for some heels, then gathers all her things into her bag. “’Kay. Ready.”

Together, we head toward the half-empty parking lot.

Most of the crew is gone already. Some guys are still around, cleaning and packing up the equipment.

Those two women I took pictures with are climbing into their car.

I just told them that Liz and I aren’t dating, yet here we are, walking to her car together, about to go home together.

Sometimes, I can see why people write shit about us.

Liz and I pass a few more vehicles before we come across the trunk of one with the hood up. It’s a red Toyota Corolla I’ve seen many times before.

“It’s just a blown fuse,” Javina says from behind the hood. “This happens all the time.”

“All the time?” Arella says in her are you serious? voice.

“Once I change the fuse, this baby will be just fine again.”

“Does that mean we need to go get you a new fuse?”

“Nah.” Javina’s footsteps round the front of her car to the passenger side. “This happens so often, I’ve got a stash in the glove—oh, hey, guys.”

“Everything okay?” Liz asks as her heels stop clicking against the pavement.

I stop behind her with my chest pounding and my mouth dry.

“We’re fine,” Javina says. “My car does this thing where sometimes, this one fuse will blow and it keeps the prindle in park. Until I change the fuse, there ain’t no movin’ it.”

Arella peeks her head out from behind the hood, and we lock eyes again.

I lose my breath. She’s much more beautiful in real life than she is in my hallucinations.

Gone is that bright light that’s always shining behind her, those stupid cockroaches, the occasional rainbow stars, and those people in suits.

Arella’s long chestnut waves cascade down her ribs the way they always have. She still has those same angelical features and the same eyes that mesmerize me in every way. The only thing that’s different about her is that she looks slightly older.

I resist the urge to grab her, to bring her into my chest and squeeze her and tell her that I’m still deeply in love with her and?—

“Dammit!” Javina says as she finishes digging through her glove box, pulling out an empty plastic container. “I’m all out of fuses. Ari, could you call us an Uber?”

Arella snaps out of our little staring contest. “Sure. Where to?”

“Wherever the closest auto parts shop is.”

Liz perks up. “I could drive you.”

Javina’s grin looks like the one she gave me when I treated her to a spa day years ago. “You would do that?”

“Of course. It’ll be faster than waiting around for an Uber.”

“That’d be great! Thank you.” Javina turns to her best friend. “You wanna chill here while I go real quick?”

“Um...” Arella locks eyes with me again as I silently plead for her to say yes .

Liz butts in before Arella can come to a decision. “Trey will stay back with you and keep you company, won’t you, T?”

Silently, I nod, trying not to look as eager as I feel. Then I realize it’s rude to assume Arella even wants me to keep her company, so I clear my throat and add, “If that’s what you want.”

Arella smiles as her cheeks pinken. “Sure.”

It’s not an enthusiastic yes , but I’ll take it.