by Eden Finley
I wait for him to finish, but he doesn’t. “You what?”
“I’m not over him. And you … I don’t know what it is about you, but every time I see you or I’m near you, I just …”
I can’t help feeling sympathetic because I know exactly what he means. “When I’m near you, I don’t even know what I saw in Bryce.”
“What are we supposed to do with that?”
“I’m guessing sex is not the right thing to say here.”
Jet bursts into laughter. “You wish.”
“I really do.” I step closer again, dipping my head so we’re mere centimeters away. “I don’t know what we’re supposed to do. I know what I want to do and what I should do, but I don’t think either is the right solution.”
“What are you supposed to do?”
That’s easy. “Walk away.”
“What do you want to do?”
Less easy. I swallow hard as I say the words I know I shouldn’t. “Never stop touching you.”
“What are you gonna do?” Jet whispers.
“I don’t know.”
“Soren?”
“Yeah?”
“The correct answer to that was kiss me again.”
Chapter Ten
JET
Soren’s mouth ravishes mine again, strong and demanding, leading me to only one conclusion.
I’m screwed. I’m so screwed.
Twenty-year-old me with love hearts in his eyes takes over twenty-three-year-old me like some sci-fi body snatchers movie.
Soren kisses me as if he thinks he’ll never get the chance again.
I’d like to say I’m strong enough to make that happen, but I’m not.
Soren makes me weak and greedy.
His knee goes between my thighs, and it takes all my effort not to rub against him like an animal in heat.
Fuck it. I need it.
But before I can take it, Soren pulls back.
“Shit,” he hisses. “We better stop before we get arrested.”
I push away the disappointment and go for the joke. “Pretty sure you just said I look like a hooker …”
Soren rests his forehead against mine. “Jet. Sweet, sarcastic Jet. What are we doing?”
“You tell me.”
“What do you want this to be? This can be a moment of weakness, or it could be a promise of things we both know won’t happen.”
“Ain’t there a happy medium?”
“Like what?”
“Drowning our sorrows in each other?” Fuck, what am I saying?
“Will that work?”
No. “Maybe?”
All I know is I want to keep kissing him. Now that I’ve started, I’m not sure I can stop. Bottom line is, Soren might be the one person on this planet who could make me forget about Harley. I just have to remind myself that naïve Jet can’t get in over his head.
I’m going to be smart about this. “So, we have fun on vacation and that’s it.”
Worst. Idea. Ever.
“Fun …” Soren says. “Just fun.” He purses his lips. “I don’t know if I could ever only have fun with you, but if that’s all you can give me—”
“It is.” Well, it’s not all I can give. It’s all I’m willing to give.
“What exactly does fun entail? Are we talking, like, hanging out or sex or …”
“You want boundaries, you mean?”
“Right. Like, am I allowed to flirt with you?”
“Do you have the balls to in front of my brother?” I challenge.
Soren doesn’t say anything.
“Okay, how’s this for keeping it simple. We can only talk about things you’d be willing to say in front of Matt.” That should keep the flirting to a minimum. “Fun doesn’t have to mean sex stuff, though that’s definitely on the table. Hmm, sex on a table …” I shake my thoughts free. “We can hang out and go sightseeing together. I want to stop wallowing and have fun. Real fun. Every type of fun.”
“Have meaningless fun and fuck the consequences? I don’t think I’ve heard a more typical Jet saying.”
“What would you know? From what the gay brigade has told you? You don’t actually know me, Soren.”
“Then maybe that’s what we should be doing the next two weeks. Getting to know the real people behind the memories. Because when I think of you, I confuse you with the guy I know and the guy everyone else says you are.”
If I’m honest with myself, I do the same thing. It’s as if I’m a different person when I’m performing than I am backstage, and then when I’m with Matt and Noah, I’m someone else again.
I’m desperate to do as Soren says—be the real me for once. But it’s not that easy. I’m all my personas and none of them at the same time.
“I’m telling ya,” a loud Ollie says, “I don’t think they came out this way.”
Soren steps back from me, and I try to compose myself before the guys find us.
They sound like a herd of elephants with their big-ass athlete feet.
“We’re here,” Soren says, taking another step away but turning his back on the guys to adjust himself.
All of them have come looking for us because they’re, well, them. They converge through the palm trees like a zombie pack.
“You okay?” Matt asks.
“I’m fine. My throat was hurting. That’s all.”
Lennon avoids my gaze. “I told them. About the guy.”
Motherfucking Lennon. I love him, but I should’ve thought twice before telling him about Harley … well, “Harry.” He and Ollie asked what was really up with canceling the tour while we were on the mainland today, and I thought they’d back off if I told them a smidgen of what happened. They know about as much as Soren.
Tour love gone bad.
“Okay, so I’m out here wallowing. I’m allowed to do that in private, ain’t I?”
“Aww, our baby boy’s first heartbreak,” Noah, the smartass, says. He holds his hand over his heart.
“This is why I didn’t tell you guys and why Lennon should’ve kept his mouth shut.”
Lennon eyes me as if in challenge, and I have no idea why he’s looking at me like that. He should’ve kept it to himself, and he and I are gonna have words.
“What, you don’t think we would’ve been supportive?” Matt asks.
“The opposite. Too supportive. And y’all gonna try to make me feel better, and I’m fine.”
“Operation Get Jet So Drunk He Can’t Remember His Name is underway already,” Noah says. “Can’t stop it now.”
Yep. I was afraid of that. “Great plan … Wait, until I can’t remember the guy’s name or my own name?”
Noah looks pensive. “Both.”
I laugh. “Cool. Can you guys start executing it while I hang out here and execute Lennon first? Thanks.”
Lennon hangs his head.
“Five minutes,” Noah says. “Then you’re ours.”
Great. How to get out of this one? I’ve seen what self-medicating does on the road, and I still have no desire to join that club even if I can afford my own rehab now.
Having gambling addicts for parents makes addiction a touchy subject for me and something I have no desire to develop.
The guys make their way back through the trees, but Ollie and Soren stay back with Lennon.
“You need me to stay for protection?” Ollie asks.
“I’m not really going to kill him,” I say.
Ollie scoffs. “I was actually talking to you because Lennon did you a favor back there.”
“A favor? How is telling my brothers I’m going through a breakup a favor?”
“Because it’s better than telling them you and Soren have been making eyes at each other all night,” Ollie says.
Soren stiffens. “Oh, shit.”
Lennon looks smug. “You guys are playing with fire.”
“Yeah, well, I light fires to feel joy.” I try to not let it show how them knowing about us affects me.
“Tell us th
e truth,” Ollie says. “You guys hooked up years ago, didn’t you?”
My façade drops. “H-how …”
“How did you know?” Soren asks.
“Boom.” Ollie turns to Lennon. “Someone owes me twenty bucks.”
Lennon grumbles.
“It was the night you lost the Stanley Cup, wasn’t it?” Ollie is way too enthusiastic about this. “You guys were doing the exact same thing you’ve been doing tonight.”
Soren and I meet each other’s gaze, our faces stoic. At least, he looks stoic.
I must be doing the heart eyes thing again because Ollie adds, “Yes. Exactly what you’re doing now.” His face falls. “Wait. That means ‘Hat Trick Heartbreak’ isn’t about me and Lennon?”
“Do you really want it to be?” I ask. “It’s about being treated like shit.”
Lennon runs his hand down Ollie’s arm. “Can you take Soren and get your dance on while I talk with Jet?”
Uh-oh.
“Yes. I need to dance.” Ollie grabs Soren’s arm.
“You need to dance with me?” Soren asks.
“Lennon still refuses to. I love him, but he’s ridiculously uncoordinated on a dance floor.”
“Trust me. I do it for your benefit more than mine,” Lennon calls after them as they make their way back inside. Then he turns on me. “What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you and Soren being all … you and Soren again? It’s been like …”
“Three years.” Shit. I slam my mouth shut. “But I still have no idea what you’re talking about. And even if I did, why would I tell you when you’ll run and tell Matt and Noah everything?”
He gestures toward the building. “I did that for you. It was either that or have them wondering why Soren was chasing after you.”
“He wasn’t chasing … okay, he was, but it’s none of their goddamn business.”
“What happened between you two?”
“What, you want the intimate details? Perv.”
Lennon’s unamused at my attempt at deflection. “No. I mean, what happened?”
“He didn’t know I was Matt’s brother until the morning after. That was a fun conversation. He looked like he was going to vomit.”
Lennon laughs.
“Then I went on tour, he got back together with Bryce, and that was it. It was nothing. There was no big drama or breakup or anything like that. And we’ve only seen each other once since then. Now he’s here, we’re both single—no, we’re both hurting. It makes sense we’d gravitate toward each other.”
“That’s all it is?”
“Last night was the first time since I broke up with Harry that I didn’t go to bed thinking about how lonely I am.”
Instead, I couldn’t get Soren out of my head and that he’s here. In Fiji. Eight thousand miles away from where we first met. What does that say about my relationship with Harley if the minute I’m away from him, I’m thinking about another guy? A guy from my past, sure, but I don’t know if that makes a difference.
Lennon’s arm wraps around me. “Aww, Jet. I didn’t know.”
It’s funny to me when the guys call Lennon small because he’s not. He’s tall and lean. It’s that he hangs around guys who do weight training for a living and are all over six foot. He looks small compared to them.
I fit against him, and it feels nice to be held by a friend—someone who doesn’t want anything from me.
“I figured you need a hug. I can let go if you want me to.”
“Not yet,” I mumble. “You’re right. I needed this.”
“You should’ve told me.”
“It’s not like you could have done anything about it if you knew.”
“I could’ve come to see you or you could’ve called. We may have only lived together for a few months, but I consider you one of my closest friends. I’d do anything for you.”
I lay my head on his shoulder. “I know. I … I dunno. I don’t want to burden you. Or Matt and Noah.”
“You’re never a burden. Especially for your brothers.”
“Knowing that doesn’t take the crappy feeling away though.”
“No, I guess not. What are you and Soren going to do now?”
“Have fun? It’s not like we can do much else. If I didn’t piss the label off too much by pulling a disappearing act, I’ll be back on tour soon. He’ll be playing hockey. It’s not like there’s a future here.”
“Do you want a future?” Lennon asks.
“I barely know the guy.”
But something Soren said last night has me thinking about it—what our lives would’ve looked like had we aimed for something more. He said he shouldn’t have picked Bryce, and I can’t help wondering what would’ve happened had he pursued me instead.
I have no doubt he made the right decision and didn’t waste the last three years. Logically, I probably would’ve cheated on him or something during that first year I was on tour. I was so lonely. Lonely enough to sleep with my forty-five-year-old dick of a manager and countless groupies.
Being surrounded by people who want you is intoxicating. And for a while, it was a thrill.
The only other person I’ve had an actual connection with is Harley. He understood me because he’s been through it all. We started out as friends—him teaching me how to deal with rising fame and how to stay levelheaded. Well, relatively levelheaded. It is me I’m talking about.
I thought Harley was straight for about four months. Tabloids always had him with the latest actress or pop star. It wasn’t until our hundredth time hanging out I realized he spent all his spare time with me.
I asked if he was trying to hit on me, and he laughed and said, “Fucking finally.”
Insert a whirlwind, forbidden romance that didn’t fool any of the crew, a forcible separation by his management team, enforced by my own, and then the nail that finally sealed the coffin—his engagement to a beard.
I don’t care if the marriage is fake, they’re still going to be fucking married. And from what I understand, she’s not in on the whole fake part. Worse yet? It’s a fan his management team picked out for him. It’ll give all the other girls out there even more reason to believe they could bag one of the Eleven boys.
That’s not cool.
And I refuse to be involved.
But maybe … just maybe … if Soren had picked me all those years ago, maybe I wouldn’t be in pieces now.
“Oh, Jethro!” Noah’s singing voice comes from near the trees.
“Ah, fuck. Time’s up.” I pull away from Lennon, but he grabs hold of my hand.
“Be careful with Soren.”
Ha, right. Be careful with Soren. Because he’s the one who’s risking heartache here.
Sure.
Chapter Eleven
Soren
I’m still dancing with Ollie when Jet and Lennon are dragged back into the bar by Noah. The tray of shots the guys ordered still sits untouched at our table. They’re waiting for Jet so he can drown his sorrows.
I had a better way for him to do that, but no. Apparently drinking is the key.
Jet takes a shot reluctantly and swallows it down and then slams the glass on the table as if to say, “There. I drank your stupid drink.”
But then they put another in front of him. He rolls his eyes but takes it.
They all join him on this one.
Ollie’s body presses in closer to me. “You want to go over there, don’t you?”
Yes. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“For what it’s worth, I think you should go for it with the kid.”
“He’s not a kid.”
Ollie bursts into laughter. “That’s what you’ve been calling him for years. I knew it was too emphatic.”
“You’re having way too much fun with this.”
“You’re two of my best friends. It’d be cool. I mean, I will miss you when Matt and Noah hire a hitman to take you out, but until then, it’ll be
good for both of you.”
“How much did Jet tell you about his ex?” I ask.
“Not a lot. Just that he was a guy on tour with the Eleven crew.”
Yeah, that’s what he told me too. “I think there’s more to the story he’s not telling us.”
“He probably doesn’t want to be seen as weak. Jet can put on a convincing front.”
I don’t want him to put on a front with me.
“Go,” Ollie says. “We should take some of those shots so Jet doesn’t end up in a Fijian hospital with alcohol poisoning.”
Good point.
We make our way back to the table, and I drink down a shot while I hand one to Ollie. Then we take another. That should help.
Jet’s surrounded by the others, so I can’t get close, but when I catch his gaze, I mouth, “You okay?”
He replies by taking another shot and then lifting the empty glass in the air.
Big brother logic: they’re overprotective as fuck when it comes to Jet, but they can handfeed him a shit ton of alcohol.
Confusing much?
Bitter much? a voice says in the back of my head.
It’s no secret I’d rather have Jet outside, pinned against that wall.
But clearly, that’s not going to happen again tonight. And if he keeps drinking the way he is, I have no hope of it happening later when we get back to our island.
Drinks flow to the point the music thrums in my veins and my head feels the right amount of fuzzy.
When Matt and Noah drunkenly stumble toward the bathrooms, I assume they’re going to hook up in there, so I have some time.
I slide into the seat next to Jet and lean in close to his ear. “How are you holding up? I think I’ve seen you drink a gallon of tequila.”
Jet inches closer and looks up at me with glassy eyes. “I’m a rock star. I could drink any of you under the table.”
“You’re looking kinda drunk.”
“Eh. Tispy.”
“Tispy?” I laugh. “Not tipsy?”
“Yeah. That. But s’all good. I drink a lot on tour. Mainly when we have good nights. I’ve always found drinking to escape is like a huge rabbit hole I don’t want to go down, you know?”
“That ship has sailed tonight, my friend.”
