Love Me Tenor

by Annabeth Albert

Michelin was currently laughing with Dawn and some of the other production staff on a low couch in the middle of the room. Trevor wanted to go ask Michelin how his friend Lucas was. Lucas and his new group, Embellish, had toured with Michelin as an opening act, but Michelin’s deep voice and NBA player height kind of intimidated Trevor. He totally looked the part of a country superstar, too—expensive black jeans with a huge-ass bronze buckle and a black shirt with subtle western details, both offsetting his pale skin to make him appear even more untouchable.

  Better to practice his resolve to make better food choices and go find a snack. Unfortunately, good choices were not in abundance at the premiere party. A whole table full of desserts stood at one end of the loft space. A big-screen TV was set up at the other end, with the first episode and all the Web episodes and music videos on loop.

  Trevor was deliberately avoiding that end of the room. He really didn’t want to know how the show was presenting him and the rest of the group. Of course they’d manipulate things—Perfect Harmony last year had turned a single short argument about who would sing lead into a big drama and played up the conservative nature of the M&Ms while ignoring all the moments that made them a brotherhood.

  He wouldn’t go so far as to say the show was to blame for his split from the group, but it certainly hadn’t helped any. He didn’t need to see what Next Direction was doing with all their candid footage. Better to enjoy the tentative truce with Carter and Carson and this new, weird, wonderful place he was in with Jalen.

  Jalen appeared at his side while Trevor was still surveying the room. Wardrobe had dressed them all in preppy suits with freaking bow ties and suspenders and shirts in their assigned shade. Jalen was the only one of the group who looked effortlessly sexy—he’d lost his jacket as soon as they’d arrived and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He’d declared that he was going full-on hipster and grabbed a pair of glasses with clear lenses from wardrobe. The rest of them looked ready for a private school catalogue photo shoot, but Jalen looked edible.

  “Found some wings. Things without sugar are in short supply.” He held a plate out to Trevor. Trevor tried to hide his gag, but as usual, Jalen saw right through him. “What? You don’t have to eat the dressing.”

  “Bones. And yucky spicy coating. But thanks for trying.” And yeah, the dip was nasty.

  “Suit yourself. Cheese?” He pointed to two cubes on the edge of the plate.

  Trevor grabbed them and some raw carrots, even though he wasn’t crazy about cheese. He needed to eat something. The show hadn’t given them dinner before the party, but the appetizers circulating were hardly a meal. He’d need to get some of the nuts he’d bought the day before out of his bag in a bit. High reading or not, he needed to eat, even if his stomach felt bloated and his swimmy head wanted a nap more than dinner.

  “Hey, have you guys seen Carter?” Carson came loping over, out of breath. It was strange to see him without Carter plastered to his side. His eyes kept darting around. “I’ve been looking everywhere.”

  “I saw him over by coat check.” A little warning bell in his brain told Trevor not to reveal that Carter hadn’t been alone. They’d only been talking right? Nothing to report.

  “I checked there.” Carson frowned. “But I’ll go look again.”

  Ruh-roh. The warning bell got louder as Carson walked away with a purposeful stride, shoulders tight.

  “Hey, guys!” Dawn left the group on the couch to come over to him and Jalen, almost bumping into Carson in the process. Carson sidestepped her, and she ended up right in front of them, face flushed. “You really need to send a pic of you guys looking all cute to Mama Ivy, Jalen.”

  “Eh.” Jalen made a noncommittal sound and dropped the hand he’d had on Trevor’s back. Trevor’s stomach roiled like he had eaten the ranch. Did Jalen not want his mothers to know about Trevor? He’d thought now that they were honest about wanting to be more than pretend boyfriends that Jalen might be open with his family, but apparently not.

  “Here, I’ll take one.” Dawn took out her phone and didn’t wait for permission before snapping a picture. “Maybe I’ll even add a cute frame to it.”

  “You’re in a good mood,” Jalen said. He didn’t tell her not to send the picture, which Trevor supposed was something.

  “Cheap champagne.” Dawn giggled. “And the effects of three weeks of fifteen-hour days. You guys got the day off yesterday, but I put in like twenty hours.”

  “You need sleep,” Jalen said, giving her a little squeeze.

  “Oh! Speaking of the day off, you guys have fans! Look at this!” she spoke in rapid-fire exclamations, well on her way to tipsy. She flipped to something on her phone. “People posted fan pics of you guys at Granville Island, and look at this adorbs one of you guys kissing on Davies.”

  Trevor’s stomach landed somewhere around the lobby elevator. He knew without looking which kiss it was, but he forced himself to glance at her phone. Yup. There it was—the kiss that he thought was his and Jalen’s alone, tagged with hash tags proclaiming “#standout” and “#cuteboyskissing” and other cutesy-wutesy sayings. It had been shared almost more times than the video of them singing on the bus.

  Another promo op for the show. Can’t anything be ours? They looked so happy in the fuzzy picture, but Trevor wasn’t sure how much to believe in that happiness. It had all felt so real yesterday, but maybe this was all for the show, even when he thought they were carving out something more. See. Told you. Things never work out.

  “Nice.” Jalen’s voice was heavy, weighted with something Trevor didn’t recognize and his expression equally unreadable.

  Dawn rolled her eyes at them. “You guys should go dance. Remember your brand!”

  Oh yeah. Because the freaking brand was everything.

  Jalen ditched the now empty plate in a nearby trash can.

  “You want to dance?” Jalen motioned at the area off to the side, where a number of people of various pairings were dancing, mainly to the sort of overdone pop used on the show. “Or you want to go watch some of the footage?”

  Neither. Trevor’s need for a nap only intensified. He wanted to go lay down somewhere not here where he could forget about the show and its stupid demands. What he probably needed was the protein bar and some water, but he didn’t want to let on how poorly he was doing. The last thing he needed was Jalen forcing a doctor on him or, even worse, making him tell Dawn.

  “Hey, you doing okay?” Jalen asked.

  Heck. He’d waited too long to reply, given Jalen a chance to look too closely at him. “I’m fine.”

  “We don’t have to dance.” Jalen rubbed his arm.

  Let the coddling begin. Trevor resisted the urge to shrug the touch off. If he had more energy, he’d totally drag Jalen out on the dance floor, drive any suspicions out of Jalen’s head until the only thing he could think was how crazy turned on he was.

  Or he could cut out the dancing and head straight to the turned on part. He gave Jalen his best smile, the one that usually made Jalen pounce on him, and put a hand on Jalen’s chest. He fiddled with Jalen’s suspenders, making sure he brushed Jalen’s nipple through his shirt in the process.

  “Follow me?” he asked.

  “What do you have in mind?” Jalen’s slow smile said he wasn’t opposed to a dirty suggestion or three.

  The small bathroom where he’d tested his blood sugar would be perfect for a distraction. The air in the party room felt thicker, like he was having to move through a vat of his mom’s pea soup to get to the hallway. He stumbled, stupid feet not keeping up with his brain.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Jalen asked as soon as they were in the hall.

  “Yes.” Trevor snapped, going straight for the restroom door. “Crap. It’s locked.” He slumped against the wall opposite the restroom, letting his head hit the polished paneling.

  Jalen put his arms around Trevor from the back. “I think there’s a bigger one off the main club. Want to go search it out?”

 
; “Kinda wanted small and private.” He gave Jalen what he hoped was a heated smile, but what he feared was more of a wobbly grin.

  “Oh.” Jalen’s breath was warm in his ear. “You want to . . . here.”

  “You’ve never fooled around in public before?”

  “Uh . . . not exactly the public-sex type.”

  “Oh everyone’s the public-sex type.” He bumped back against Jalen’s hips before grabbing the hand he’d placed on Trevor’s stomach, bringing it to his mouth and slowly licking the thumb. “How about we wait and I’ll show you?”

  “How about we not?” Jalen removed his thumb from Trevor’s devious mouth. “I figured you wanted to go make out in a corner—”

  “Where the cameras could see?” Trevor sounded mad about something, but Jalen wasn’t sure what. “That would be perfect right? The cute guys making out meme needs another entry. Who needs orgasms when you have brand recognition?”

  “What the hell is with you?” Jalen stepped away, trying to sift through Trevor’s head of steam to find the real issue. “You’re mad that someone recognized us and took a pic?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.” Trevor raked his hand through his hair. “Yeah. I guess I am. That was our moment. Not the show’s.”

  “Oh boo.” Jalen put all the affect and fake concern of that first week in his voice, put his hand on Trevor’s shoulder, motion deliberate, not the casual easiness they had now. Maybe Trevor needed a reminder of what fake felt like. “Did they not get your good side?”

  “F-you,” Trevor said, but he laughed, and some of the tension bled away from Jalen’s shoulders. Jalen had had a brief moment of panic where he’d thought that maybe Trevor had staged the moment—saw the camera and gone for it anyway. If anything, Trevor’s anger was reassuring.

  “It was our moment,” Jalen said, more serious now. “I meant what I said. A pic doesn’t change that.”

  “I know.” Trevor groaned.

  “And I want tonight to be our moment, too,” Jalen said.

  “It can be.” Trevor’s voice got all low and seductive again.

  “Not like that.” If they were going to talk about what ticked off Trevor, maybe Jalen’s beef was also fair game. “I don’t want to be like all the other guys for you.”

  “You’re not.” Trevor sounded more confused than emphatic.

  “I don’t want to be the guy who drags you into a public restroom for a quick blow job.” He lowered his voice and leaned in until his forehead rested against Trevor’s. He didn’t like thinking about the parade of guys who probably hadn’t even known Trevor’s name. “I want to be the guy who notices that you’re exhausted and not feeling well and probably cranky because the food here is crap and you need one of your bars.”

  “Yeah. I do.” Trevor’s eyes were suspiciously shiny and moist. “I haven’t exactly had that guy around before.”

  “Well, you do now.” He kissed Trevor lightly. “I like taking care of you.”

  He didn’t know how to explain that. It wasn’t that he liked Trevor being sick, but he liked when people had problems he could solve. Like when Mama Ivy needed an exercise program or Tash needed help with her bio homework or Dawn needed an extra guy for the show. He liked being the guy who bailed people out. Trevor needing food was totally a problem he could fix. Seemed like a lot of people in Trevor’s life had simply taken—Jalen wanted to be the one who gave.

  “You’re right.” Trevor sighed softly, wrapped his arms around Jalen. “I feel lousy. I didn’t want you to know. Didn’t want you to worry.”

  “So you thought you’d give me the come stains and questionable cleanliness of club bathrooms to worry about instead?” Jalen rubbed his face against Trevor’s. “Boo, we got to work on your game. A kiss and some dirty whispers about opening that toy package when we get back to the room would have been a better distraction.”

  “Great. Now I’m distracted for both of us.” Trevor laughed.

  “Distracted enough to let me cuddle you on the couch while you close your eyes and rest until they unveil the next challenge?”

  “Why does letting you take care of me feel so much scarier than that?” He gestured at the still-locked bathroom door.

  Because we’re falling in love here and that’s scary as fuck. But Jalen didn’t say that. Turned out he was a coward, too, because he shrugged and kissed Trevor again before tugging him in the direction of the coat check.

  A half hour later, he and Trevor were cuddling on one of the low couches. Trevor was decidedly not watching the videos, but Jalen found them interesting from a scientific standpoint. He played a game with himself, trying to spot shots where he or Trevor hadn’t been aware of filming. Were he and Trevor different when there were no cameras? How much of them was the act and how much was this real space they were trying to carve out for something more? It was enough to give him a raging headache.

  The actual episode that aired on the network was very formulaic—Heat Loss was the front-runner, Keg Stand was the comic relief, and Stand Out! was the cause. Or, more accurately, they were the gay BFF of the show—no one expected them to win, but they were there for the aww factor, and so Kaitlyn could go on about “love is love” in her voice-overs. But the more he watched, the more Jalen noticed something—Stand Out! was good. Really good. And for the first time, pride bubbled up in him over that—they were building something here. Something more than just the world’s most bizarre summer job.

  He loved being on stage and singing, which was not what he’d expected a month ago. But watching footage of himself from the festival, a strong sense of right descended on him. He looked like a total pro on that stage, working the audience. He looked like a guy in love with performing. And in the footage, every time he glanced at Trevor, his voice got surer, his movements more confident. They totally fed off each other’s energy. Maybe I’m meant to do this. Maybe I’m meant to do this with Trevor.

  “Hey, Trev . . .” He shifted Trevor’s weight around in his arms. “I think—”

  Clink. Clink. Dawn and Michelin stood in the center of the room, tapping on glasses to get attention.

  Oh well. Maybe best not to confess my emo feels right now anyway.

  “Tell me later?” Trevor asked sleepily.

  “Mm.” Jalen wasn’t committing to that.

  “Can I have your attention? Who’s ready to learn about the next challenge for our groups?” The people in the room whooped and hollered. “For the first time, we have a challenge that Michelin himself has designed.” Dawn grinned up at Michelin, more than a little tipsy now.

  Don’t go getting no hopeless crushes, girl. Not sure that one bats for your team. He’d caught Michelin glancing over at him and Trevor more than once, an expression somewhere between bemused and wistful. As far as the public knew, though, Michelin was straight—in fact, he’d brought some country singer girl as his date to the Grammy awards a few months ago.

  Michelin gave everyone a wave, including the camerapeople who had appeared to film parts of the party and the challenge reveal. “Many people don’t know this, but Speed Kills actually got their start doing local festivals and state fairs all around the Northwest. The first time we heard the roar of the crowd, man, that was really something. In fact, we were spotted by a record label at one of those fairs. Now y’all did a little festival last weekend. This weekend, we’re going bigger. We’re taking a field trip to the Bigfoot Music Festival in Washington.”

  Holy cow. It wasn’t Lollapalooza, but Jalen had certainly heard of the music festival east of Seattle. It was one of those middle-of-nowhere festivals where everyone camped and hung out for three solid days of music.

  “And in the audience, we’ll have scouts from three big Fourth of July shows. Along with me, they’ll be picking who goes where. Two of the groups are staying local, while one lucky group gets national exposure and is coming to do Capitol Fourth with me in DC. You guys are doing a great job at building your audience through social media, but nothing beats millions of
eyeballs on your performance.”

  The whole place broke into applause.

  “We’ve got to win that.” Jalen looked up to find Carter leaning on the back of the couch. He had a rough patch along his jaw and his dress shirt was rumpled. Jalen didn’t need a fancy degree to guess who’d been in the locked bathroom. Guess we know why Carson was looking for him.

  Maybe semipublic sex worked for the two of them—lord knew they snuck off together enough. He looked for Carson to give him a good-on-you look, but he wasn’t nearby.

  “Hashtag agreed.” Trevor grinned, doing a pretty good impression of Carson the publicity hound, who still wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

  “A trip to DC, hells yes.”

  “You really like travel, don’t you?” Trevor asked.

  “Oh yeah. You don’t?”

  “I think I like it with you,” Trevor said quietly.

  “Oh my God. You guys are just too cute.” Carter’s voice had razor-sharp edges to it.

  “There you are.” Carson came walking over. “Where have you been?”

  Oh fuck. Either Carson had impressive acting chops or someone was about to be in deep shit. Glad it’s not me.

  Beep. Beep. Beep. Jalen’s phone chirped next to his ear. He swiped the alarm clock icon. Four thirty a.m. and the first time ever that he was up before Trevor. Trevor snuggled into his side. Poor guy. He’d been so exhausted last night that he’d stripped to his boxers and collapsed on the bunk as soon as they’d gotten back from the party. He’d been softly snoring by the time Jalen got in bed.

  And now they had to be downstairs at five a.m. for the chartered bus heading to the festival in Washington.

  “Don’t wanna go.” Trevor nuzzled into his chest. “Too early.”

  Trevor tossed a leg over Jalen, like he wanted to pin him in place. His hard-on rubbed against Jalen’s thigh. Jalen laughed softly. “One part of you is awake.”

  “Mmpphf.” Trevor flopped on his back, which Jalen was more than happy to take as an invitation.