Page 5

DEAN

The last party I went to in LA was at the house of Selena Gomez and Benny Blanco. Troye Sivan had crowned himself “Queen of the Cocktail Cart” and was pushing a small mobile bar clinking with bottles around the living room, mixing some potent potions guaranteed to please Selena’s guests. Billie Eilish and Liz Grant aka Lana Del Rey were squeezed onto a piano stool with Finneas sandwiched between them, tinkling the keys. Outside, Taylor Swift was getting cuddly in the jacuzzi with Travis, while upstairs, several agents and acquisition managers did private business deals in one of Selena’s twelve enormous bathrooms, drunkenly negotiating royalties and penning record deals on rolls of toilet paper.

So, while a party at Dad’s place felt very different to a party at Selena’s, they did have one thing in common. Toilet paper.

Of course, if I had mentioned any of the famous names at the party to Dad or Harry, they’d have been clueless as to who I was talking about. And that was fine by me. The more time I spent in LA, the more I realized how important it was for my sanity to keep Los Angeles and Mulligan’s Mill completely separate. Most days, I wanted nothing more than to step away from the bright lights and take a back seat to it all, to let someone else step out onto that stage, while I focused solely on the music, writing the best songs I could. Hell, I was even open to the idea of never singing again, of writing songs for other people and letting them lap up all the fame.

Celebrity, I had learned, was not for everyone.

Madeline, however, was keen to know more. Perhaps she was being polite, perhaps she was genuinely interested. I figured it was a little of both as we sat at the table in the back room, drinking and nibbling on Dad’s stale snacks.

“I have to admit, I’ve heard your songs on the radio. It’s not every day I get to meet a rock star.”

“Dean’s not a rock star,” Andy laughed. “He’s just Dean, ain’t that right, buddy?”

Madeline spoke before I could respond. “Oh, I think your son’s more famous than you realize.”

“Thanks, but Dad’s right. I’m just Dean when I’m here.” My face was hot and flushed. The truth was, I was never truly myself when Harry was around. I had to try to hide my true feelings, I had to constantly simmer the urge to reach for him, to do whatever it took to be close to him, to come up with some stupid excuse just to be alone with him. It struck me that between being onstage in LA and sitting here in the back room of Dad’s house opposite my secret crush, I was constantly pretending to be someone I wasn’t. I didn’t even know if my mask was convincing. I tried not to look at Harry, in case he somehow saw straight through me. “It’s not real, anyway,” I added, trying to downplay the conversation. “The whole fame thing. None of it’s real.”

“Your success seems pretty real to me,” Madeline said. “I mean, I’ve seen you on the covers of magazines.”

I thought of the Rolling Stone shoot and the upcoming cover, and felt my face burn bright.

What would Harry think if he ever saw that?

I squirmed. “If I’m honest, I find all that stuff pretty embarrassing.”

“You shouldn’t,” Madeline said. “You should be so proud of what you’ve achieved. I’m impressed you coped so well with such a seismic shift in your life, moving from Mulligan’s Mill to LA. I mean, talk about a change of pace.”

“Yeah, that was kinda crazy. All the meetings and lawyers and recording sessions, it’s all a little overwhelming. I mean, my manager steered me in the right direction, she’s kept me on track, kept me from making the wrong move, kept me from screwing anything up. She’s kind of amazing at what she does. But some days, it feels like everyone wants something from you all at once.”

“But you must get a kick out of all the fans out there listening to your music. You must love the idea of people playing your songs and singing along. So much love and appreciation for your art. And your music is so damn catchy. I mean, “Hammer of my Heart”… I love that song!”

I smiled and nodded in Harry’s direction. “You can thank Harry for that song. He was the one who nailed the lyrics… excuse the pun.”

Madeline looked at Harry, wide-eyed and impressed. “You did?” She patted him on the arm and rested her hand there, and the sting of jealousy shot through my heart. “I didn’t know you wrote music?”

It was Harry’s turn to blush. “I didn’t do anything. I just thought the word ‘hammer’ might work.” He laughed awkwardly. “I mean, you’re talking to the guy who spends his whole day surrounded by hammers. It was hardly a stroke of genius.”

“It went to number one on the charts,” I told him, my tone soft and grateful.

“Don’t tell him that,” Andy joked. “He’ll ask for money.”

Harry slid his arm out from under Madeline’s hand and tapped his birthday present. “Don’t worry, Ebenezer. I’ve got my signed photo, that’s payment enough.”

Madeline looked from Harry to me, the smile still on her face. But there was something behind that smile now. As though she was trying to read the room. I had to look away.

“Well,” she said to me. “I bet you’re having the time of your life. I mean, you’re living the dream that most kids can only fantasize about. It’s wish-upon-a-star kind of stuff.”

I shrugged. “I guess. I mean, it’s a learning curve, that’s for sure. And yeah, it’s definitely wish-upon-a-star kinda stuff. But some days you get the feeling you should have been more careful what you wished for.”

Harry sat forward and I saw the concern on his face. “You’re not happy out there? If you’re not happy, you should come home straight away.”

“I’m okay. I’m happy.” I wanted to sound like I meant it, but I wasn’t so sure I pulled it off. “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. I’m old enough to look after myself.”

Truth was, I didn’t want to look after myself at all.

I wanted Harry to scoop me up in his arms.

I wanted him to hold me tight.

I wanted him to protect me from fame and glamor and everything .

But I knew that was never going to happen.

I changed the topic. “Enough about me. So, Madeline, how are you finding life at Mulligan’s Mill High. Any apples for the teacher yet?”