Page 2 of Tyler (Bummerset Shore University #2)

Yeah, that’s what we do. We send pictures and videos of every mundane thing that’s happening while we’re apart.

A lot of pictures and videos. But I’m all here for it, because it’s the only thing keeping me sane.

I now have a whole folder full of pictures of the tour buses he rode on, the crew, all the places and venues he finds so fascinating.

Somehow, a lot of the pics are also of French fries. He’s testing them all over the country.

As of yesterday, Wendy’s is in the lead. I have a picture of Jace with his mouth stuffed full of fries to prove it.

I stare at it, at my phone, my lifeline, the device that makes the missing a bit more bearable when I start to eat.

It was supposed to be three months.

Five have passed now.

What Jace already expected before they left came true; once they got on the road and they showed the world what they could do while opening for one of the biggest rock bands of our time?

They got signed by their label, and they prolonged the state-side tour with the band Six of Hearts for an additional four months.

With Encore having more playtime. They almost play a full show now, instead of being just the opening act with a couple of songs.

It sold out in record time, faster than the first leg of the tour when they weren’t on board.

I’m so incredibly proud of him. He’s doing amazing; he’s living his dream.

But it sucks as well. It sucks so hard. It sucks to know that we’ve been apart longer than we’ve been together.

Yes, I saw him once. Once. They came back for two weeks for finals and exams, finishing up the semester, and for Asher, Ava, and Missy, their graduation as well.

Jace officially still has one year of college to go, unlike them, but he thought about it long and hard, and dropped out when the label offered them the contract.

Under the condition that they paid off his student loans, which they did and then some.

A nifty little deal Jace’s dad pulled from the label.

After that, they left for LA to record the songs they already had, to put them on an album, and went straight back on tour for the second leg. They went back on the road so quickly on purpose: to keep the momentum going while the producers finished up the album, which goes live next week.

I get it, I really do, and I’ll cheer for him as long as he’ll have me, but the missing sometimes becomes too much, too real, too depressing.

Some days here and there in between exams was all we had for nearly half a year.

But I will not complain about it, at least not too much and not to him. This was my idea, my choice. And I still want this. I would rather have this tiny part of him than have nothing at all.

But it still sucks donkey’s ass. So I hold on to the fact that I’ll finally see him for real in just two days, on my birthday. He has a couple of days with no shows and is flying over for a quick visit while the bus travels to the next destination.

I can’t freaking wait to see him, to hold him, to kiss him, to smell him. To make sure he’s real , that we’re still good, that we’re still us, and that we can still do this.

“Why don’t you come with us, Ty?” Bob asks, hauling me out of my depressing thoughts.

“Where to?” I ask, popping the last piece of burger in my mouth, not having a clue of what they were talking about.

“To Tight Spot? It’s drag show night,” he says, naming the only queer club in our part of the world.

“Yeah, I figured that,” I say with a wave at the outfits on him and Manuel, who’s now seated on his other side, drink in hand. “But I don’t think you have a pair of heels in size thirteen. Otherwise I would gladly tag along.”

Manuel snickers around the rim of his glass, eyes twinkling. “Sure, honey. You really want to take that bet? I think we can get those heels pretty fast.”

“I bet you can.” I smile at the duo but tap at my phone. “I’d love to accompany you guys, or girls, some time, but I’m expecting a call and to be on the phone for some time. So I have to decline politely.” I wink at them.

“Ahh, to be young and in love again,” Manuel muses, letting his head drop on Bob’s shoulder. They both give me small smiles, knowing all about me and Jace.

It’s like a romantic love story, they say. A dream.

Feels more like a nightmare sometimes, to be honest.

“You need to come with us next time. Going to Tight Spot is like a baby gay’s rite of passage around here,” Bob goes on.

I have to purse my lips together to suppress my laughter, and his brows soar in understanding. Yeah, been there, done that. Had my first actual kiss with a dude there to prove it , falling into the abyss like a baby giraffe being born instead of a baby gay.

“Ah, take their offer, Tyler honey,” Mom butts in, enjoying a margarita herself, cheeks flushed from the drink. “You need a bit of fun to cheer you up. Does this Tight Spot have one of those dark rooms as well? I’ve heard of those. If so, I want you to avoid that, Tyler. Those sound unsanitary.”

Oh, Jesus. “ Mom !”

“What? Well, if you really want to go, at least bring some antibacterial cream from the diner. I think I have some in my purse as well.”

Oh, God. I’m so not going to tell her I ravished Jace in one of the dimly lit hallways of that particular club, so I open my mouth to say something to divert the subject, when my phone dings with an incoming message, making my heart skip a beat.

Jace. It says he’ll call me in a few.

I check the time, calculating the difference. If I’m correct, he just finished up a show.

He calls every night. And I mean every night.

He’s being so damn good at this. He texts me throughout the day, sends pictures of everything he does and encounters on the state-wide tour, calls me every single night either before he has to go on stage or after, depending on the time difference.

And when there isn’t a show, we just video chat for hours on end, deep into the night, he in his small bunk on the tour bus and me in my now too big bed at home.

Sometimes, when I close my eyes, it’s almost like he’s right next to me.

He seems happy on the tour, though. And I am happy for him.

I’m just not happy for me.

Going into this, I thought I would be the one to breeze through this, to tackle this long-distance thing head-on and own it, do it, conquer it. To be the one to keep Jace sane, to be the one to reassure him, to calm him, guide him.

But I’m not the one thriving; Jace is.

He’s the one doing this, breezing through this. He’s the one who keeps me sane.

Because I struggle, oh how I fucking struggle. Every day I miss him more, and every day I miss him worse. But then the night hits, and the call comes, and I’m able to breathe again.

And in a couple of days, he’ll be here. I’ll be able to take my first real breath in months.

When my phone buzzes, I excuse myself and head over to our place, the knot in my stomach loosening when I pick up as I enter the empty house via the back porch and hear his voice.

“Hey, babe. Missed me?”

I let out a heavy breath, the tension leaving my shoulders. See? Able to breathe again.

“Hey, you… Yeah, of course I missed you.” I smile at no one, since he’s calling audio only. There’s music and chatter in the background, there always is. He lives music; he breathes music. Every drum and every beat resonates into his very soul. It’s who he is, and it’s who I love.

“I missed you, too. I can’t call for long; the show just ended, and we have a fucking mandatory afterparty soon.

The film crew is here for that stupid music video.

They’ve been following us around for the last couple of days.

” He sounds almost irritated, which is odd because, as far as I know, my Jace doesn’t have any trouble with partying, and he’s a natural at performing.

It doesn’t matter if it’s in front of a camera or in front of an audience when he’s on stage. They all love him.

“Is everything okay?” I halt halfway up to my room, frowning when it stays silent on the other end. “Jace?”

He finally sighs. “I can’t make it to your birthday.”

I swear something inside of me withers and dies.

I knew it.

I just did . Usually, I’m not a doom-and-gloom kinda person.

I’m the one in any group that’s calm, gentle, and just takes life in stride as it comes.

Not much strays me from my path, my goals.

Mom always calls me an old soul. Not sure if it’s a compliment or an insult, but the description sort of seems to fit.

I rub my face with my free hand as I enter my room and slam the door closed behind me a bit too hard.

“Ty?” Jace inquires when I stay silent. He sounds just as broken as I feel right now.

“I’m so, so sorry. I really, really wanted to come, but they’re not letting me go, dammit.

The label has planned two interviews and a meet and greet the morning of the next gig.

And they fucking want to shoot more for the video clip.

Missy just told me a couple of minutes ago. ”

“It’s okay,” I say after swallowing the hurt away and sitting down on my bed, even though my voice sounds anything but okay.

“Maybe I can come to you? I’ll sit the interviews and recording out, of course, but maybe we can find some time to hang?

Show me the bus and everything? I think I’ve saved enough to afford a plane ticket.

” It would put a dent in my budget for the upcoming two semesters, but it would be worth it.

“ How? Your parents are catering that big wedding the day after your birthday, right? I was supposed to help as well.”

Shit , I knew committing to that thing was a bad idea.

With Jace’s crazy schedule and the only consecutive days he had off from gigs, it was the best we could come up with at the time.

That he would help my parents since I already said I would, and I don’t want to disappoint them. This wedding is a big deal for them.

But still… “I can probably cancel. Mom would understand.”