by Eden Finley
I perk up. “He has? Oh my God, I bet it’s amazing.”
“So, will you come? Tour kicks off in a few weeks. We’d need to do a rush on a visa application for you like they did for mine.”
“I …” I can’t do this, right? It’s insane. I have a dissertation to write. I have research to complete.
“I understand if you can’t give me an answer right now, but please think about it. And fast.”
“I’m totally going to sound my age here, but I need to talk to my mum.”
Luce laughs. “Hey, we’re never too old to turn to our mothers. Who do you think convinced me to accept my dream job when I was hesitating thanks to a sexy molecular engineer I met?”
“Oh, so I can blame your mother for missing you?”
“Ah-ha, so you do miss me.”
“Yeah … I do.”
“Come on. Even if you don’t do it for me, do it for yourself. Everyone deserves a gap year.”
“I … I’ll call you back.”
“I’ll be waiting. We’re going out for celebratory drinks, but I’ll have my phone on me. Oh, this is my US number, by the way, so call this one, not my Aus number. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Hey, Luce?” I blurt before he can end the call.
“Yeah?”
“Congratulations on hitting number one.”
“They literally wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for you.”
The call goes dead, and reality sinks in.
They want me to go on fucking tour with them.
Radioactive.
Holy shit.
How can this be my life? Seriously. What the fuck?
It took Mum a whole five minutes of screaming excitedly before she did the actual parent thing to talk it out with me logistically. She encouraged me to take it. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and it’s not like I can never go back to working towards my PhD.
And that’s how I’ve ended up here, in a first-class seat, on my way to the States to follow Radioactive around the fucking world.
Deep breaths, Marty.
I don’t know what’s making me more nervous—the tour or seeing Luce again.
He was ecstatic when I said I was coming, but it’s been a few months since I’ve seen him, and what happens if I see him again and he’s nothing like the Luce I remember?
What if that spark isn’t there?
And, I mean, technically, he’s my boss. Then again, it’s not like I’m doing this for the job. The job is a mere vessel for me to do this at all.
Landing at LAX, I’m tired, have plane on me, and all I want to do is sleep. Turns out first class isn’t so easy to sleep in either. Or maybe I’m just too wired to sleep.
This is it.
Luce should be out there waiting for me.
I take a deep breath. And then another. It doesn’t help get oxygen to my lungs.
I better learn fast to breathe like a normal human being or customs are gonna think I’m smuggling drugs in my ass, and I don’t want anyone’s fingers up there unless they’re Luce’s.
I follow the signs and the people being herded like cattle to the immigrations and customs desk.
The guy behind the counter when I reach him wears a solemn expression, and I wonder if it’s a prerequisite to have a permanent “I just tasted something sour” look on your face to be an immigration agent.
“You look nervous,” he says.
“I … eh … umm …”
He cocks his eyebrow at me.
“I’m meeting someone,” I blurt. “My boyfriend.”
Oh God, don’t tell him you’re gay, idiot. Though, you know this is Los Angeles, not some redneck, bible-preaching town.
“Let me guess. Met him online?”
Apparently, I’m amusing to him now.
“Uh, yeah,” I lie. Because I don’t care enough to explain the situation right now.
He looks over my visa information, stamps my passport, and gives me a smile. “Welcome to the United States.”
“Thank you,” I mumble and can’t get away fast enough. I have to tell myself to slow down. Strip searches are still a possibility.
Waiting by the baggage claim is even more nerve-racking, because I know the minute my bags arrive, the only thing separating me and Luce is two glass doors.
When that moment comes, I find myself standing by the exit and holding my breath.
Then someone goes and ruins my self-preparation by walking past me.
The doors slide open.
And then he’s there, waiting for me at the end of the welcome section, and he looks … utterly amazing. He’s still hot as fuck and makes my mouth dry.
Then Luce smiles. Probably at my feet stalled by the exit.
His shoulders shake from light laughter as I make my legs finally move and carry me toward him.
“How is it possible you look even younger right now?” is the first thing he says.
“Fuck off.”
Luce laughs hard and wraps me in a giant hug. “I have missed that mouth of yours.”
I pull back and tilt my head, but our arms stay around each other. With the way his cocky face stares down at me, I’m guessing Luce hasn’t picked up on the double meaning of his words. Or maybe he meant to say it that way and that’s why he looks so smug.
Before I can get out an equally obnoxious retort, Luce leans in and kisses me.
It’s soft and warm, and I’ve been thinking about these lips for months.
I’ve been trying to remember what they taste like, what they feel like, and how they turned my world upside down, but no memory, no fantasy can live up to this.
Luce pulls back long before I’m ready. “Mm, you taste like peppermint, which is surprising after a long flight.”
“They gave us a free travel toothbrush and toothpaste on the plane. I thought I’d put it to good use in case you were as hot as I remembered.”
“Am I?” He turns his head from side to side.
“Were you always this grey?” I reach up and run a hand through his hair.
“You know I was.”
“I know, but it’s fun to tease.”
Luce takes my suitcase handle from me. “Let’s get you home.”
“About that. Where will I be staying while I’m here?”
His gorgeous lips twitch. “Well, we’re about to hit the road for the first leg of Radioactive’s tour, so you’ll have your own hotel room, but that’s not for another two days.”
“And until then?”
Luce clears his throat. “I was hoping you’d stay with me.”
I try to act nonchalant, but I know my entire face lights up.
Shocking. Nerdy lab rat can’t act remotely cool to save his life.
I don’t even have to answer.
“Then it’s settled,” he says and takes my hand.
“Yeah. Settled.”
12
Luce
Marty is just as charismatic, just as unapologetically snarky, and just as good-looking as I remember.
Granted, it’s only been a few months, but it feels a hell of a lot longer than that.
As we make our way to my car, I can’t stop staring at him.
I can’t believe he came. I can’t believe he actually did it.
It was a long shot asking him to take a year off from school and his PhD just to see if this could work between us, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this guy since the moment I met him.
I’m here because of him.
Radioactive have a platinum single because of him.
And yeah, any other uni student or post-grad would jump at this chance because who wouldn’t want to tour the world with their favourite band? But with Marty, his work is too important. He’s been working at it since he was fifteen.
Yet, he’s still here.
With me.
Giving us a real shot.
I ride that high until we get about halfway to my small West Hollywood apartment.
I we
nt from a middle-management label-exec position to band manager, which is basically two pay grades below what I was before. I can’t afford much, and L.A. is ridiculously expensive, but in the few months since I’ve been managing the band, I’ve already made them ten times as profitable as they were last year. If we keep on this trajectory, I’ll be buying my own mansion soon.
“So, have you … like, well—”
I grin. “You can ask me anything, Marty.”
“Oh. Okay. Umm, have you seen anyone since …” He waves a finger between me and him.
Okay, he can ask anything but that.
I shake my head. “Nah.” But fuck, even I hear the guilt in my tone when it’s really all quite innocent.
I’ve had a million offers since arriving in L.A. When the band plays shows and people realise you can get them backstage? Yeah, people throw themselves at you. There was even one girl who, when I told her I was gay, turned to her boyfriend and got him to come offer to blow me.
I wasn’t tempted by any of them.
But there was this one guy …
I sigh. “Okay, full disclosure. No, I haven’t been with anyone else since I left Australia, but there was this guy who works at the Joystar label here. He’s one of the assistants who float from person to person. Kinda like a permanent temp? He goes where he’s needed.”
I glance at Marty and see disappointment in his eyes.
“Let me finish, okay? Nothing happened between us, but it almost did.”
“Did you kiss him?”
I purse my lips.
“Luce, it’s okay. We weren’t together after you left. You ghosted me. I fucked heaps of guys these last few months.”
My hands grip the steering wheel tight, and I speak through gritted teeth. “Really?”
“No, not really, you dickhead. I’ve been working and trying to get my mind off you.”
“That’s what I’m trying to say. This assistant. Rory. He reminded me of you. He’s got the same colour hair, same cute features. When he smiled, I thought of your sarcastic smirk. I thought we were done, and I couldn’t go back. I thought long distance wouldn’t work and that it’d only hurt us if we kept in touch. But the thing is, when this guy tried to kiss me? It wasn’t you. My head knew it wasn’t you, and my heart definitely knew it wasn’t you. That’s what made me ask the label to create your position and offer it to you.”
I let out a deep breath. Rory’s lips were on me for not even a full second before I pulled away and said I wasn’t interested because I was hung up on someone back home. And even though Marty and I weren’t even together, that half, maybe three-quarters of a second has made me feel guiltier than anything else I’ve done in my entire life—even torturing my own mother as payback for calling me Lucifer.
“You didn’t kiss him?” Marty asks, his tone hopeful.
I shake my head. “He tried to kiss me, and I stopped it. And I’m telling you about it, because I want you to know why I asked you to come to L.A. and take a job that you’re way overqualified for. I want to start us off the right way.”
Marty looks relieved, but then he throws his head back on his headrest. “This is crazy, Luce. How did I get here?”
“Plane. Duh.”
“Who takes a year off their real life to follow some guy and a band around the world?”
“You do. Again, duh. You’d think with that big brain of yours, you’d know these answers.”
Marty’s voice drops. “What if it doesn’t work out?”
“You can leave your contract with Joystar at any time, and if you’re not happy here, I don’t want to force you to stay. It’s only twelve months. The tour is eight. We have plenty of time to work out what we want, how we work as a couple and at our jobs, and if this is something we both want. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. This isn’t even your chosen profession, so you’re not risking a career. All either of us are risking are broken hearts.”
“I don’t want a broken heart.”
“Neither do I,” I admit.
Our first conversation in person in months has gone dark pretty fast, but then Marty breaks the mood by smiling again.
“So we give it twelve months.”
I nod. “Twelve months.”
13
Marty
I never imagined a brainless job could be so exhausting. I also couldn’t imagine being so good at it. Or loving it.
Because it’s kind of a bullshit job, I’ve semi-become a personal assistant for not only Luce but the entire band. I never thought I’d be someone’s bitch-boy or that I’d enjoy it so much.
Getting to watch Radioactive onstage every night would be payment enough.
That, and getting to spend my days next to Luce and my nights wrapped up in him.
My doubts about Luce when I took this job were unfounded, and these last six months on tour have only strengthened what we had back in Melbourne.
It amplifies every day, and I’m so fucking in love with him.
Can I tell him that though?
Nope.
Too fucking scared.
Because it could change everything.
I enter Radioactive’s dressing room to find Benji, Freya, and Luce. No Jay.
Luce scrolls on his phone, not paying attention to the scowls Benji and Freya are sending each other. Must be a fighting day. They tend to alternate between being loved-up and arguing. Jay says they’re perfect for each other. I’m honestly surprised they’ve lasted this long without killing each other or walking out on the band.
But we don’t get involved. It’s their thing.
I have a feeling I know where Jay is, and if I’m right, every teenage girl in the world will hate him. “Where’s Jay?”
“He went to get a Pepsi.”
I point to the chilled bucket full of Coke. “You didn’t think that was weird considering his rider asks for Coke?” I should know. It’s my responsibility to make sure the venue gets every item on the list right.
Luce lifts his gaze from his phone, and even though he’s a clueless idiot, he’s a gorgeous, clueless idiot, and he’s mine. “Maybe he felt like something different?”
“I’ll go find him.”
I step into the corridor and try to think where he could be. I have a feeling I know who he’s with, but where …
Jay appears in front of me, sans Pepsi. “What’s up?”
I eye him from head to toe. “Find your Pepsi okay? You know, you can ask for that on your rider so you don’t have to do it yourself.”
Jay and I have become good friends over the last few months, but I’ve seen a switch in him in the last two. He’s acting cagey and disappearing before shows. When I’ve gone to check on him in his hotel room, he hasn’t let me in.
He smiles a trademark Jay smile. “I’m not going to be one of those celebrities who can’t fend for himself.”
I purse my lips. Maybe I’m wrong about him.
Maybe.
Jay tries to get by me, but I step in front of him.
“Just be careful. With Pepsi. If you’re not careful, it can make a big mess.”
Jay narrows his eyes. “What would you know about … Pepsi?”
“Nothing. And I think it’ll be better that way. I don’t want to have to lie to Luce.”
“About Pepsi?”
I nod. “About Pepsi.”
We stand quietly, just eyeing each other.
“Marty?”
“What?”
“You’re the weirdest person I know, and that’s saying a lot, because my brothers have this whole crazy gay brigade they hang around who are nuts.”
I grin. “Thanks. Total compliment.”
Luce opens the dressing room door. “Good, you found him. You need to be onstage.”
“I’m ready,” Jay says.
Benji steps past us. “So are we.”
The band has been kicking ass. Gold album. Platinum single. If they keep going the way they are, next year they’ll get their own headlining
tour.
They’re at the level of fame where a lot of people still won’t know who you mean if you say the band name, but hum a few bars of “Hat Trick Heartbreak” and the entire population would chime in. Or tell you to shut up because it got played to death on the radio and stayed high in the charts for months.
Luce takes my hand and leads us to where we usually watch the band from the sidelines.
You’d think I’d be sick of listening to the same songs every night, watching the same routine, and while artists will never say they have favourite cities or audiences, the truth is, each city is different.
The atmosphere is charged with a different energy with the varying crowds.
No show is the same.
And I’m still mesmerised every time Jay sings.
Luce wraps his arms around me from behind, catching me off guard.
Everyone in the crew knows we’re together, but we still make sure to be professional in public.
The band is onstage singing “He’s Mine,” but the meaning of that doesn’t register until Luce lowers his head so his lips are by my ear.
“It’s the song that brought us together.”
It’s the song that changed my entire life. I don’t know what will happen in another six months, but if the label and Luce ask me to stay, I’m staying. End of story. No doubts, no regrets, and I have absolutely no desire to go home and get my PhD anytime soon.
Maybe one day.
“I love you,” Luce says.
I freeze in his arms, only turning my head to look up at him. Either I’ve heard something I’ve wished for him to say or he actually just said he loves me.
“I’ve fallen for you.”
Again, his mouth moves. I hear the words. But—
“I’m so in love with you,” I blurt.
Luce kisses me while Radioactive plays our song, and it could very well be the most perfect moment ever.
14
Luce
I hold my breath and prepare myself to walk into a hissy fit of epic proportions. I just got word from the label that instead of Radioactive headlining their own stadium tour like they deserve, that they’ll be doing a second tour with Eleven. As their opening act.
