by Ann Craven
With a wave to Diego, Kenny walked toward the cameras, unable to stop his curiosity. Why was Becks on campus? Did he bring Nicky? Scanning the faces, Kenny couldn’t find the one he wanted to see. He’d gotten over Nicky, or at least, he’d tried to.
But something about him still had Kenny curious about the man he chose over him. Someone handed Becks a guitar and told him to sit on the Cambridge steps—the oldest building on the main campus. They placed three girls near him, each more beautiful than the last.
“And action,” a well-dressed man in a suit called.
Becks strummed his guitar and looked to the camera. “I sent my sister to Defiance Academy because they could take care of her, teach her, mold her into the kind of woman our future needs. This place isn’t like other schools. It’s special.”
“Cut!”
Kenny couldn’t hold in his laughter. The country superstar was doing a commercial for Defiance Academy? Just the thought of that was ridiculous.
Not to mention, their entire setup was cheesy as hell.
His laughter drew Beckett’s attention. “Got a problem, Ken doll?” Becks had been calling him that since he hurt Nicky. It was a crack at what most people saw as Kenny’s biggest flaw. Perfection. Even the questions about his sexuality hadn’t dented the image of the fair-skinned, blue-eyed, well-spoken, future politician.
“Actually, yeah. That sucked.”
Becks raised an eyebrow while the director scowled.
Getting to his feet, Becks handed off his guitar and approached Kenny. “Tell me, Montgomery, what do you suggest we do?”
Kenny scratched the back of his head, thinking. “Do you know how many hockey players we’ve sent to the NHL in the past ten years?” He didn’t wait for anyone to answer. “Nineteen, with a handful more playing in the AHL or Europe. That program is our biggest recruiting tool. When we’re on the ice, the arena is more alive than any part of this campus. If you want to show the world the heartbeat of this school, you have to step out onto the ice.” He cocked his head. “How are your skating moves?”
“This was a terrible idea.” Becks gripped the wall for support as he skated forward.
Wylder laughed from the safety of the team bench. “No, this is gold. If you insist on embarrassing me with this commercial, at least let me get some enjoyment out of it.”
Kenny did a quick lap around the smooth surface. Coach watched from the tunnel. He’d been skeptical about using the arena for the commercial, but the camera crew had been given full access to use any part of campus they deemed necessary.
Killian appeared at the mouth of the tunnel in full pads. “This better be quick.”
He’d come when Kenny called him, begging him to show up. If the commercial was about the school, it needed to feature some of the best parts, and Killer would make sure they were in for a battle.
Kenny skated backward toward Becks. “You’re going to have to let go of the wall, eventually.”
“I will.” Becks sucked in a breath. “Someday.”
Kenny shook his head and crossed the ice to retrieve two sticks from where he’d left them on the bench.
Wylder met his eye. “How much do I have to pay you to see Becks checked into the boards? Oh! Or he could lose a tooth. He’s way too pretty.”
Kenny laughed. Only an hour ago, he’d probably have wished for the same thing. But seeing Becks struggling on the ice, unwilling to admit he couldn’t do this, softened Kenny’s opinion a bit. He could see what Nicky liked about the guy. There was a certain charm. And he sure as hell looked good. Well, not right that moment inching along the wall.
Kenny shook his head and drifted to his side, handing him a stick. “This may help your balance.”
“Okay.” Becks took the stick. “I can do this.” He closed his eyes—not something Kenny would have advised—and pushed away from the wall. For a moment, he stood upright, his free hand thrown to the side.
Kenny met his panicked eyes a second before Becks’ feet flew out from under him, and his butt slammed into the ice. His stick slid toward the goal, stopping as it hit the post.
Even the ever-intense Killian couldn’t contain his grin. “Dude, that was epic.”
Kenny looked up into the lens of the camera trained on them, noticing the red light. They’d gotten it all on camera. “Can I get a copy of that?” Suppressing another laugh, Kenny extended a hand down. Becks took it reluctantly.
“Why am I out here again?” he groaned as he got to his feet, not letting go of Kenny’s arm.
“Because you wanted to prove something to me.” The moment he’d said it, he knew it was true. Kenny was Nicky’s past. Whatever future Nicky now had with Becks, it didn’t negate that.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re a douchebag?”
“All the time.” Kenny shrugged. “It’s part of the charm.” When he noticed the camera still on, he slid his hand out of Becks’. He’d learned that lesson. No matter if the video would only be used to promote the school, even if any Kenny and Becks’ interactions were cut out, Kenny wouldn’t risk another incident like the kiss with Nicky. The world wouldn’t forget that, but in time, maybe, it wouldn’t be such a big deal.
If he conformed to what they wanted from him.
Killian skated forward. “All right, country boy, enough with the flopping around. Let’s get this over with.”
A man Kenny didn’t recognize skated onto the ice.
Becks took his guitar from him with a nod of thanks. He handed the stick off to Kenny and slid the guitar strap over his head. “Okay, your job is to make sure I don’t fall and smash this baby.”
Kenny’s brow creased. “Beckett…” He stopped himself. This wasn’t his commercial. Whatever the director wanted, he could have. He’d already given in to Kenny’s suggestion they do this on the ice.
Kenny took Becks’ arm and followed his direction to center ice, leaving him standing directly in the center of the school logo.
The director told him to get out of the way and motioned for the camera to start rolling again. Becks strummed his guitar, repeating the same lines as before and then starting in on his most popular song, ”Love Me.”
Kenny stayed on the ice with Becks and Killian for another hour, helping Becks pretend to shoot pucks at Killer. He didn’t know why he was there. Becks wasn’t his friend, and probably never would be, but the commercial took his mind off the fact that his dad still hadn’t returned his call and that most of his friends didn’t know how to talk to him anymore.
Coach suspended him for a game after his fighting incident. The Knights lost, and Kenny felt it was all his fault. So, he’d come back and scored a hat trick the next night and netted points in the two games since. Still, it didn’t erase the way his teammates walked on eggshells around him.
Kenny and Becks skated off the ice together and walked to the locker room to remove their skates. Becks gripped his shoulder. “Look, I know there’s history and shit, but thanks, man. Today was a lot more fun than I’d thought it was going to be.”
Kenny shrugged him off. “Sure.”
“If you ever want to, you know, hang with me and Nicky when I’m not on tour, give us a buzz.”
Kenny only shrugged again. He wondered if Becks knew he sometimes texted Nicky. Would he care? Who was Kenny kidding? He couldn’t be friends with those two. Not if he didn’t want a media storm to descend on him once more.
If that happened, his parents might never speak to him again.
By the time Kenny made it back to the dorm, Will was already out doing whatever he did on Friday nights, and weariness overcame Kenny. It was the weekend, and all he wanted to do was collapse face-first into his bed. No one ever told him being stared at all day was so exhausting.
And the thing was—they weren’t staring because he’d been caught on camera kissing a dude. At least, not only that. For the first two months of school, he’d suffered under their gazes and whispered words not because a boy couldn’t like other boys but because one in
particular boy couldn’t. Who was that boy? The son of the conservative senator.
The entire situation made Kenny a curiosity for his classmates. Then throw in that the boy he kissed was dating the country singer every high schooler in the US currently idolized.
Yep, the only way Kenny would get away from the expectations was to graduate and leave all these people behind.
But there were some people he’d never be free of. His phone rang, and he slid it from his pocket. “Kyle.” He sighed. “What’s up?”
“You sound exhausted, Kenny. Don’t forget to get enough sleep. There’ll be scouts at pretty much every game from here on out as teams prepare for the draft.”
“I know. We’ve only talked about this a million times.”
“I’m just excited for you, kid.”
And he knew that was the truth. Kyle wanted Kenny to succeed. “Thanks, man. Was there a reason you were calling?”
“Just checking in. You don’t have a game this weekend, but I hope you’ll be ready for the next one. No more shenanigans. Let your talent speak for you, not your anger. Whatever they say to you, the best way to get back at them is to beat them.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. You sound like Coach.”
“We’re all rooting for you.” Kyle liked to include Kenny’s parents in the royal “we,” but Kenny knew they barely noticed what he did.
As he pushed open the door to his dorm, his mother turned to face him, a strained smile on her face.
“Kyle, I need to go.” He hung up and threw his phone onto his bed.
“Kenneth.” His mother stepped forward, putting a hand on each of his shoulders and kissing his cheek. “Was that Kyle?” Something lit in her eyes. “How is he?”
“Um… Okay.” He glanced around his pristine room, making sure nothing was out of place. They’d drilled the need for order into him from a young age.
“Dear.” Her smile dropped. “Um is a nonsense filler word. What have we taught you?”
He sighed. “To always speak with purpose. Never say anything I don’t mean. Only use words that emphasize my point.” He rattled off their lessons in speech etiquette like the robot they’d hoped he’d be. As the only child of his ambitious parents, their desire for a lasting political legacy rested on his shoulders.
His mom patted his cheek. “Good job, darling.” Her eyes scanned his face, moving over the workout clothes he’d worn on the ice. For a moment, he wondered what she saw.
“Kenneth, we’ve talked about this. You insist on playing that game, but outside of the stadium—”
“Arena, Mom.”
She waved away his correction. “When you leave the building, you need to look presentable. You never know who will see you.”
He had to keep himself from rolling his eyes. She wouldn’t have taken that well. But who was going to see him on a high school campus? Most of his classmates lived in sweats or jeans.
She tsked and dug into her purse, pulling free an envelope. “This is for you.”
Kenny took it and found an invitation inside. As he read the words, his eyes widened. Asher Brooks was having a birthday party. Yes, Kenny knew it was pathetic his mother was delivering birthday invitations to him. But this was a party he definitely didn’t want to attend.
Because Asher Brooks happened to be the president’s son. As in—President of the United States. As in—the boy Kenny wanted nothing to do with. They’d grown up together in the same political circles and even been friends once. That last time he’d seen him, they hadn’t even spoken. Asher showed up in Twin Rivers to help Becks win Nicky back. Somehow, the three of them had become close friends.
Kenny looked to his mother. “Asher won’t want me there.”
“Well, it’s a good thing he doesn’t get a say.”
“It’s his birthday, Mom.”
“Son.” She calmed her voice like she was speaking to a child. “Everyone will be at this event. The president is sparing no expense. The Montgomerys must present a united front…especially after your…indiscretions.”
He wanted to laugh at that. Indiscretions? That was what she called being outed in the media? What she was really telling him was they needed to show all their fancy friends their son was “normal” and it had all been one big misunderstanding.
“Fine, Mom.” He sighed, knowing there was no winning with her, especially when she probably looked at his hockey schedule to make sure he couldn’t lie and say he had a game. “I’ll go.”
She smiled. “Good boy. I’m headed back to Washington tomorrow, but I’ll have a driver pick you up next Friday afternoon. You’ll fly to Washington for the party Saturday night. I’ve already chosen a suit for you, and it will be waiting at our townhouse in DC when you get there.” She turned her wrist to check the time. “I really must be going. Goodbye, dear.” She walked away.
Kenny nudged his door shut with his foot and dropped his backpack near the desk. He flopped onto his bed and stared at the plaster ceiling. “I’m fine, Mom. Thanks for asking. It’s been a little rough lately, but nothing I can’t handle.” He rolled onto his side. “I’m just glad you care.”
She’d never hear those words. His first contact with either of his parents in months, and she’d only come because they needed him in Washington.
For Asher’s party.
He couldn’t help wondering what Ash thought of him now. Asher told the world he was gay when he was thirteen. He’d been Kenny’s best friend despite being the president’s son. But Kenny’s parents stopped allowing them to spend time together. They retreated into their conservative circles, doing anything necessary to thwart the president and the gay-loving First Family.
And Kenny hadn’t fought them on it. He hadn’t been there for Asher. Instead, he’d abandoned him.
How was Kenny supposed to look Asher in the eye now that his secret was out? How was he supposed to breathe in a room full of people who were wondering if his kiss with a boy was forced upon him—as his parents told people—or if he was one of ‘those’ boys, the kind they thought deserved no rights?
He rolled onto his stomach and buried his head in his pillow. If he had a way out of the party, he’d take it.
If he had a way out of the political world he’d been born in to… Well, he’d take that too.
4
Asher
Asher slouched down in the worn leather chair, enjoying the last few minutes of peace he would get until his big birthday bash was over. It was tradition. Since he was eight years old, whenever his presence was required at events of State, he withdrew from the chaos in the final hours before the event. Everyone knew to leave him alone in his “secret” hiding spot behind the Usher’s Office. From there, he could watch people arrive, but he didn’t actually have to deal with them until the last possible moment.
After several painful hours with his stylists, trying to make him look cooler than he actually was, he was ready for a break. Sitting in his too-tight pants with his hair styled so it stuck out in loose curls all over his head, he felt ridiculous. Most people thought the president’s son was a trendsetting fashion icon, but the reality was far from the truth. His stylists were the trendsetters. They stocked his closet and routinely selected outfits for him to wear to school. Asher tended to stick to jeans, T-shirts, and sunglasses, but they picked those too, so he ended up looking like someone who had a clue about fashion.
Asher tapped the Netflix icon on his phone and settled back to binge-watch one of his favorite shows. Sipping a hot vanilla latte and picking at the special cupcake the executive pastry chef had left for him, he knew he was spoiled rotten. And ungrateful. But if someone had actually asked Asher what he wanted for his birthday, he would have said a family dinner without interruptions or phones or secret service. Just Asher, Mom, Dad, his sister, Caroline, and maybe a pizza. But no one bothered to ask him.
“Damn it.” Asher licked icing off his fingers, eyeing the spot of red, white, and blue on his black too-tight tuxedo shirt.
“I knew I’d find you in your secret spot.” His sister’s voice rang out behind him.
“It’s not actually a secret when everyone knows about it.” Asher brushed at the spot with a napkin.
“You’re making it worse. Sit.” She dipped a linen napkin into the pitcher of ice water the kitchen staff left for him. “Did you save me half of your cupcake?” She dabbed at the spot on his shirt.
“Of course. That’s part of the tradition.”
Caroline stood back and eyed his shirt. “Your jacket should hide it, so I guess you’ll do.” She took the seat beside him, stealing more than just her half of the cupcake.
“You look nice.” His sister wore a high-fashion couture ball gown by some Italian fashion designer neither of them could pronounce. Layers of black and gray tulle fell to her feet in an ombre effect.
“I feel like this dress is wearing me.” She fussed with the bodice. Caroline was just as uncomfortable in fancy clothes as her brother.
“It suits you. And it’s not over the top. I, on the other hand, look ridiculous.” He held his hands wide, glancing down at his shirt.
Caroline tried to hide her smile. “A little bit hipster with a hint of badass. It looks good, little brother. So not you, but it looks good.”
“I look like an Elton John impersonator, and not in the good way.” He stood, shrugging into the white embroidered jacket, also too tight. “Too flashy?” He tugged on his black-and-white bow tie and ran his fingertips over the embroidered lapel covered in a black-and-white rose motif. “I don’t think I can pull this off.”
“You happen to look adorable, Asher. Now, escort your big sister to this shindig of yours, and save me a dance for later.”
“Where’s your boyfriend?”
“I happen to like him too much to subject him to this nonsense. I learned a long time ago these birthday parties aren’t actually for us.”
