Love Me Tenor

by Annabeth Albert

  Dawn gave a soft sigh and a sad little smile. “I’ll get you a key card to the room with Carter. And Trevor?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I had faith in you guys from the beginning. I know it seems like I’m all about the show, but I had a feeling about you and Jalen from the start. Don’t let me down, okay?”

  Too late.

  The only person more morose in the world than Trevor was Carter.

  “Do you think they’re fucking?” Carter asked as Trevor came out of the bathroom. He’d checked his blood sugar, taken his medications, and gotten into pajama pants, but he still didn’t feel ready for the long night ahead. And he certainly wasn’t ready for that question.

  “Who?” He played dumb, like that would stop the images flashing by in his brain.

  “Who do you think? Carson and Jalen. Do you think they’re revenge fucking to get even with us?”

  “No.” Trevor had a whole pile of worries, but that wasn’t one of them. “Jalen’s not the type to revenge fuck. You’d know better than me about Carson. But hey, that Evan guy in Heat Loss is kind of cute.”

  “Screw you, man.” Carter tossed a pillow at him. “And Carson’s not the type either. Almost wish he would; then maybe he’d forgive me.”

  “So you . . . uh . . . want him back?” Trevor sat gingerly on the other bed. This kind of talking about feelings and shit made his skin feel attacked by carpenter ants, but anything was preferable to lying there knowing Jalen was a thin wall and several oceans away. Dawn had felt it necessary to point out Jalen’s room when they came upstairs.

  “Yes.” Carter flopped back against his mattress. “I didn’t want to break up. That was all him.”

  What the fuck? Wandering into someone else’s misery was a nice distraction from his own. “Really? But you’re the one who cheated.”

  “I didn’t exactly cheat. But he thinks I did, and nothing I say is going to make him think otherwise. You ever get to that place? Where you know you can’t say a damn thing?”

  Trevor held out his fist. “Right there with you. And sometimes, there’s no fucking point in trying.”

  “God, I am so stupid,” Carter moaned, not even looking in Trevor’s direction as they bumped fists.

  “Okay, okay, I’ll bite. Exactly what happened?” Trevor asked, because Carter seemed desperate to tell the story.

  “So that guy at the premiere party was Matt Dante. He’s on Wolf’s Walk for the network. You ever watch?”

  “We weren’t allowed to watch paranormal or occult shows at home.”

  “Are you sure we’re not separated at birth? Did your mom also ban Harry Potter?”

  “Dad. But yeah. No satanic books in our home. I snuck the movies at a friend’s house and got grounded for a month.”

  “My mom started a petition to get them removed from our school’s library.” Carter sighed. “And Wolf’s Walk is totally my guilty pleasure show. Carson and I watch every week and I own all their sound tracks. We cosplayed Lee and Kyle—the two leads everyone wants to ’ship—at Halloween last year. So Matt Dante shows up, and he’s all interested in my singing. Tells me how great I’d be guesting on the show, or how we could do a song for them.”

  “And you were drinking that cheap champagne.”

  “How did you guess?” Carter rolled onto his side, facing Trevor.

  “Dude. Alcohol is involved in at least eighty percent of my bad decisions. More so in the past.”

  “Are you allowed any now?” Carter got a glint in his eye that made Trevor shift uncomfortably. “Man, I could really do some shots. Forget about how we’re probably all being sent home tomorrow.”

  “No, I’m not drinking with you. Continue your story.” A month ago, it probably wouldn’t have taken more than a shot or two to get him to do something monumentally stupid with Carter. But for better or worse, he wasn’t that guy now.

  “Okay. So here’s where it gets kind of murky. Carson and I aren’t entirely exclusive—we’ve had threeways and occasional one-offs, but we always, always agree in advance what we’re up for.”

  “And you figured just this once, you’d beg forgiveness instead of asking permission?”

  “Exactly.” Carter’s face brightened. “You get it.”

  “Pre-Jalen, my entire sex life consisted of begging forgiveness from God because I knew I’d never get permission.” Trevor could say that now, because as screwy as Carter was, he knew he’d get it.

  “I got over that in high school,” Carter said. “But the first few times? Oh yeah. I remember praying and crying and thinking I was going to hell. Then Carson would hold me and . . . oh shit. I’m totally going to cry.” Carter waved a hand in front of his face. “Okay. Time to talk more about what a rat bastard I am. So I decide that I can just tell Carson about this later. You know, make an industry friend and all that.”

  “And all that,” Trevor drawled.

  Carter tossed the pillow back at Trevor. “Shut up. Anyway, we’re in the bathroom and kissing, and he’s like superaggressive and pulling at my clothes and stuff.”

  “Superaggressive being bad?” Trevor shivered a bit, remembering how much he loved superaggressive-mode Jalen. Him pushing Trevor onto the bed. His big hands an iron grip on Trevor’s wrists, voice a dirty command in Trevor’s ear. Yeah, superaggressive was hot.

  “Off-putting.” Carter made a face. “I like to run the show.”

  Trevor snorted.

  “What?”

  “I think Carson only lets you think you run the show.”

  “You’re totally right. You bitch.” Carter laughed. “Anyway, I’m not sure whether it was the superaggro stuff or just plain guilt, but I changed my mind. I couldn’t go through with it. I kept picturing how hurt Carson was going to be when I told him. So I told Matt I couldn’t and he called me a cock tease, and he let me go, but the damage was already done.”

  “And Carson won’t believe you that you didn’t do more than kiss?”

  “Carson says it doesn’t matter and that it’s the principle. And that he totally would have granted permission—or wanted to join in. And I think that’s what made him mad.”

  “People like to be consulted.” I didn’t really do a great job asking Jalen’s opinion about stuff, did I? Hey, Jalen, I’m feeling sick. What do you think I should do? Hey, Jalen, I’m scared about losing my brother. “And I think we don’t ask people’s opinions when we know we’re not going to like the answer.”

  “Or when even asking will reveal your gut instinct.” Carter sighed. “I knew it was a bad idea. I just didn’t want to admit it.”

  “That.” Trevor punched the bed hard. “How in the hell do you apologize for that? Like ‘I’m sorry I didn’t listen to my gut or you? I’m sorry I treated you like crap so I could make a really bad decision?’ ”

  “Hell, tell me and we’ll both know.”

  Trevor fell asleep rehearsing and discarding apologies in his head. If even Carter couldn’t win his boyfriend twin back, what hope was there?

  Jalen could hear voices on the other side of the wall. That wasn’t so bad. It was the laughing that got him. Trevor had the best laugh in the world—high and musical and somehow still utterly masculine—and now freaking Carter got to share that laugh. Carter got to hang out with Trevor and find out what went down with the brother and . . .

  “I hate this.” He flopped against the bed, game controller clattering to the floor.

  “Just go over there.” Carson indicated the door. “Carter and I are adults. We can swap back. Go make up.”

  Jalen begged to differ on the adults part—the two had been fighting like toddlers whenever the cameras weren’t on them. And he also disputed the possibility of making up. “Not happening.”

  “Trust me. He probably feels as bad as you right now. And no one cheated. He made a bad choice to go with his brother. Why not let him apologize?”

  “You see him knocking on the door? He’s got something to say, he can come say it. I’m not searching hi
m out like some kicked dog.”

  “Fair enough.” Carson flicked off the TV and set his controller down. “Just try to keep your foul mood on your side of the room, man.”

  Another laugh echoed through the room. That was it. Jalen got his phone and his headphones. Blasted the volume and . . .

  Of. Freaking. Course. The first song that came on was their song. The song they had made out to and sung so much that it had become woven in Jalen’s soul. He squished his eyes shut. He was not crying. And that was totally not his hand against the wall, pressing into the plaster like he could burrow through to touch Trevor, hold hands like they always did to this song.

  He was sleeping. By force, if goddamn necessary. He flipped playlists, but even his favorite chill playlist was tinged with memories of Trevor—and how he’d failed Trevor by the phone switcheroo. And failed to keep him safe from his brother. Dawn hadn’t come back to report on what had happened, and the curiosity made Jalen’s teeth ache. He was going to grind them down to nubs at the rate he was going. He pounded on his phone until a suitable dirge came on.

  In the morning, he didn’t see Trevor at breakfast, which was cold cereal and doughnuts in the hotel lobby and other crap Trevor probably couldn’t eat anyway. And Dawn wasn’t around either, a mystery Carter solved for him when he handed Jalen a cup of coffee.

  “Dawn took Trevor to get eggs and stuff he can eat.” Carter took the empty seat at the little table Jalen had claimed along with a bowl of frosted shredded wheat.

  “Nice to know.” Jalen tried to play it like he could give a fuck.

  “We didn’t sleep together,” Carter added, voice pitched low.

  Jalen raised an eyebrow.

  “I mean, we slept. In the same room. But we didn’t fool around.” Carter’s eyes darted around, and Jalen knew he was looking for Carson, who had overslept and was taking a late shower. But Jalen was so not the social secretary for either guy. Not today.

  “Nice to know,” Jalen repeated. Carter kept looking at him all expectantly. “And?”

  Carter huffed. “Anything interesting happen in your room?”

  “Seriously?” Jalen rolled his eyes. “You guys need to make up already.”

  “I could say the same thing,” Carter said archly before walking away to grab some food.

  A few minutes later, when they were loading up, Dawn and Trevor returned, joining the end of the line. Jalen got on first and paused next to Carson’s seat.

  “Nope.” Carson shook his head. “You guys need to sort your shit out.”

  “Fine.” Jalen huffed his way farther back, taking the window seat in an open row. Trevor and Dawn got on the bus, and there was this moment when his eyes linked with Trevor’s. And it was like every kiss laid bare—the ones for the cameras, the ones just for them, the ones when Jalen couldn’t tell where that line was. It was all right there between them.

  Trevor licked his lips, eyes big and wide and more than a little scared.

  Of me? Really?

  Don’t know what to say.

  Me either. Jalen’s eyes flicked to the empty seat next to him.

  And Evan from freaking Heat Loss dropped down next to Jalen.

  “Hey,” Evan said in a husky whisper. He was cute and smelled nice, but he might as well have been last night’s trash for how much Jalen did not want him there. By the time he tried to figure out what to say, Trevor was sitting next to Carson, looking anywhere but at Jalen.

  Moment. Fucking. Broken.

  “So we’re going to fix you all up,” Kaitlyn said, summoning them into what Trevor had come to think of as the confessional room—the studio with the semicircle of high stools and bright lights. The bus had arrived back at the studio literally a half hour ago, with a brief stop in wardrobe for what Trevor’s grandmother would call a spit and polish.

  He wasn’t sure what the other groups were up to, but Stand Out! had a command appointment with the show’s high priestess of angst and narrative. Who was, apparently, going to fix them.

  Trevor took the stool farthest from Jalen, which was a huge mistake, because it meant he was stuck with a choice between gazing into a blinding spotlight or Jalen’s face. Carter and Carson took the middle stools with much huffing and puffing and not-looking-but-totally-looking at each other.

  “So here’s the deal.” Kaitlyn’s voice was all business, and Trevor would put money on her rehearsing the whole way back from Washington. “Prior to Trevor’s collapse, the scouts and Michelin unanimously picked you to go to DC. Your group name and hashtag could be in front of a huge audience.”

  “But?” Trevor prompted, because of course there was a but. They were here because he was the but. He was the reason they weren’t going. “We can’t because I got sick?”

  “Oh sweetie, you getting sick is the best thing that could have happened to your group.” Kaitlyn brightened. “Your reach is exploding hourly and you have so many get-well wishes, it’s not funny.”

  “So we’re going?” Carter asked, leaning forward, want practically dripping from him. Trevor knew he was as desperate to escape his past as Trevor. They both needed the show. They’d both fucked up. We’re the most unlikely pair of bros ever.

  “Not so fast.” Kaitlyn held up a hand. One of her long nails had snapped off. It had been a long damn weekend for everyone. “Your group cohesion is crap. Some of you are barely complying with filming requests.”

  That zinger was launched squarely at Trevor’s noggin. “I’m sorry.”

  “Appreciated. But, you’re not the only one who’s out of sync. You all are. We’ve gone from guys in love to awkward avoidance, and while conflict definitely sells, it’s not the brand we wanted from you guys. And avoidance has a short shelf-life for public appeal.”

  “How can we fix it?”

  “What do we need?” Carter and Carson spoke at almost the same time.

  “I’m so glad you asked.” Kaitlyn preened like a game show hostess. “We’re going to roll tape in a moment, and you are each going to say why you’re committed to your group. Why you’re ‘in it to win it’ for your group. We’re going to heal.”

  Trevor had no idea how many pop psychology classes Kaitlyn had under her itty-bitty gold belt, but this was a terrible idea. “You want us to apologize to each other? On camera?”

  “Or what?” Jalen spoke up for the first time.

  “Or Dawn will cut you guys checks for the time you’ve spent so far and Denise in reception will make your travel arrangements. And viewers will choose between Keg Stand and Heat Loss for our winner. The music studio and Michelin are very clear that they don’t want a group with a lot of internal drama to win—they need to be sure there’ll actually be an album to produce.”

  Then this was it. Possibly his last chance to apologize to Jalen, and it had to be on film. He had to suppress a manic giggle. The guy he’d been last summer would have run from this nightmare—apologizing publicly to his lover for all the world to see? On camera, where Jalen could just as easily tell him to go shove it?

  “I’m in,” he said, because as terrifying as that possibility was, the alternative of letting Jalen walk away without even trying was worse.

  “How about the rest of you? You in?” Kaitlyn asked. “Can we roll tape?”

  “In.” Carter’s voice was even more emphatic than Trevor.

  “I’ll try.” Carson sounded a bit indifferent, but they could work with that.

  “Okay.” Jalen’s reply was last and faintest, but he’d agreed. Now Trevor had to make this count.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  @NextDirectionShow Stay tuned for some changes and news as we move into week 4! Going to be hard to top week 3 for drama!

  Ba-thump. Ba-thump. Ba-thump. Jalen’s heartbeat echoed in his ears. Of all the things they’d had him do on camera, this was the worst. Mama Kern was a big fan of what she called family meetings, and she totally would have approved of Kaitlyn’s tough-love, everyone-talk tactics. But on camera?

  Please don’t
start with me. Please don’t start with me. Please don’t start with me. Jalen figured God might be getting mighty tired of his pleas, what with all the praying he’d done while Trevor was sick, but he sent up a few anyway.

  “Let’s start with Trevor,” Kaitlyn said.

  Ba-thump. That was possibly worse than Jalen going first. He couldn’t look at Trevor. He couldn’t not look at Trevor. Trevor looked at his hands, turning them over in his lap, but all Jalen could see was how good those hands looked laced with his own. The lights went brighter and Arrow gave the cue to roll tape and Jalen’s stomach turned to battery acid.

  “I wasn’t in it to win it when I arrived,” Trevor said. “And for that, I’m sorry.”

  “What changed for you?” Kaitlyn prompted. Jalen didn’t want to feel sympathy or kinship with Trevor right now, but he could totally relate to that. Grr. Don’t make me feel things, damn it.

  “Everything. You see, I’d forgotten how to be part of a group. I’d had such a crap year—the diabetes diagnosis was only part of it. I lost my place in my a cappella group, most of my good friends graduated and moved on with their lives, but the worst was what happened with my family. I came here so angry, but I couldn’t even see my own anger and how it was hurting me—and you guys.”

  “Tell us more about your family.” Kaitlyn was in full-on Oprah mode, and Jalen bet she had Kleenex standing by. He knew most of what Trevor was saying already, but seeing Trevor willing to publicly share his story made Jalen’s chest tight.

  “My whole life, I just wanted to fit in and be a part of my family. Growing up, I was in awe of my older brothers and my dad and grandpa. I used to think all the time that if I could just make them proud of me, that would be enough. So I majored in what they wanted me to, I planned on a career they wanted for me, and I kept waiting for that moment when I’d really feel like one of them.” Trevor went quiet for a long moment, nails digging into his palm. “But that moment never came.”