Page 25

DEAN

The sound of the gates opening echoed through the walls of the dressing room marquee—a hum of excitement as the first wave of concert-goers surged into the park. I could almost feel the buzz of it vibrating through the ground beneath my boots.

I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection in my black skinny jeans and loose white tank, with a leather jacket waiting on the hook by the door.

All I had to do was walk out there and be the version of myself they all came to see.

I’d never felt less like him.

The entrance to the marquee opened behind me. I looked up in the mirror—and there was Harry.

He hovered there for a second like he wasn’t sure if he should come in, then stepped inside, closing the flap behind him.

His eyes found mine right away.

“How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” I nodded.

“I’ve been looking for your dad. But I can’t find him anywhere. I’ve asked around—nobody’s seen him since this morning.”

I nodded again, slowly, staring down at my hands.

“Maybe he just needs space,” I murmured, though my chest ached as I said it.

Harry crossed the room, crouched down in front of me, one knee on the floor. His thumb brushed over the back of my hand. “We’ll figure it out,” he said softly. “Just… not tonight. Tonight, you need to focus on you. On the show. We’ll deal with the rest tomorrow.”

I looked at those steady brown eyes. I glanced at the bruise on his jaw where Dad had hit him. His face was calm, but I could see the hurt there, tucked just beneath the surface.

“I know, you’re right,” I whispered. “I can’t help but worry.”

Harry leaned forward until our foreheads touched. “Let me do the worrying, okay?”

I smiled. “Okay.”

The entrance opened again, and Astrid stuck her head in, her headset still perched on her head like a crown.

“Ten minutes, darling,” she announced. “Time to get into your zone.” She glanced at Harry, arching one eyebrow. “That’s your cue to leave, big guy.”

Harry gave her a quick nod, then looked back at me. His hand slid up to touch my cheek. “Go knock ’em dead, babe,” he said, voice soft enough that only I could hear it.

Before I could say anything back, he leaned in and kissed me.

It was gentle. Sweet. One soft kiss for luck, but it carried so much more. Like he was pouring everything he couldn’t say out loud into the press of his lips against mine.

When he pulled back, I caught his hand, held it tight for just a second longer.

“Harry,” I whispered. “Promise me.”

His brow furrowed. “Promise you what?”

“After tonight… we’ll find a way. You and me. To be together. No more hiding.”

His eyes softened, and he nodded, squeezing my hand.

“Yes,” he said. “I promise.”

Astrid’s face lit up as though a revelation had just dawned on her. “Oh. My. God. That’s Harry!” Her eyes flicked from me to Harry. “ You’re Harry from the text message!”

Harry looked confused. “What text message?”

“It’s nothing,” I said. “Actually, it’s not nothing at all. I’ll explain later.”

“What text message?” he asked again.

But Astrid already had him by the wrist and was dragging him out. “He’ll tell you later. Time to go, lover boy. It’s show time.”

Harry gave me one last wink, then he and Astrid disappeared through the flap of the marquee.