Secret Things

by Andrews, Nazarea

  “You ever think it’s weird?” I ask, sipping the whiskey while Dee picks at the nachos and the lights come down.

  “What?”

  “This. Us. You hated me, when you first came to set.”

  Dimitri rolls his eyes. “I hated your character. You were an ass. You, I liked. Cari adored you and if someone as smart as Cari loved you, there had to be something good to you, even if I couldn’t see it because you were being a dick.”

  “Hey!” I yelp, and he grins. He’s close in the dark theatre. So close I can see the tiny lines crinkling around his lips and eyes, the way his eyes soften as he looks at me. “No, Cam. I don’t think it’s weird. I think this is where we have always been headed.”

  “A bottle of Jack smuggled into an empty theatre?” I ask, stupidly and he laughs. Bastard.

  “Watch the movie,” he says, and I sigh, a huffy, put-upon noise that twitches his lips in that infuriatingly distracting smile, but doesn’t respond to my mood.

  The movie is just as bad as I remember, and Cari is even better. I catch myself mouthing along to her lines, after months of hearing her work on the script, and running lines with her, and occasionally I feel Dimitri’s gaze on me.

  “You’re very proud of her,” he says, about half way through the movie.

  “You aren’t?”

  “It’s different, when it’s the person you love,” Dimitri says, absently.

  I hesitate and then, “So the way you feel about Victor, then?”

  He tenses next to me and then, laughs. And it’s shockingly brittle and hurt. It hurts to hear.

  “Yeah. Just like that,” Dimitri says, bitterly.

  “Dimitri, tell me what the hell is going on. You've been off since we got here,” I prod.

  He gives me a flat, unfriendly look and I hold his gaze.

  “Fucking menace,” he mutters, wiggling down in his seat and glaring at the screen.

  I don't respond and eventually, after Cari has foiled another explosion, he says, quietly, “Vic wants me to quit.”

  I go still.

  Because of all the things I expected, that wasn't anywhere on my list.

  I'd heard about Dimitri and Victor before I found out he was joining Fractal Ends. Dimitri was notorious in the industry for being a hard worker and a wild card when it came to publicity. Not because he got himself in trouble. But because no one--not even Dimitri--could predict what he would do next. But I'd hear of him because he was a social media darling, and he was with Victor Vanes. Dimitri helped Vic get his start, performed with Silence of Screams for the first few years when they were still in a shitty van and shittier venues. When Dimitri was writing their music because they couldn't afford to buy songs.

  They clawed their way to the top with each other, using the other to feed their own dreams, despite the press and the PR people. Despite groupies and tours and long weeks on set, they did it. Dimitri landed on Fractal Ends and Victor landed on the Billboard Top 10.

  And they stayed together. They were the only people besides my parents who were high school sweethearts and managed to make it work.

  “Why?” I ask, because the reason Dimitri and Vic work is because they support each other. Always.

  I frown when he shrugs and looks away, that desolate expression slipping into his eyes again.

  He takes another sip from the bottle and I watch, unable to look away.

  “Ever think what you've got isn't what you want?” he asks, tempering the shocking question with a wry smile.

  Every fucking day.

  But…

  “Dee,” I whisper. “you love Vic.”

  He nods and laughs. “I do. That's what makes this so fucking hard.”

  I take the bottle from him when he takes another too long swig. Drinking for the wrong reason sure as hell won't solve anything. He sulks, turning his attention back to the screen where Cari is kissing some guy I think is supposed to be her boss. Or the one trying to kill her.

  Misunderstood heroes or some shit. She rolled her eyes pretty hard when she read that part of the screen.

  “He’s jealous,” Dimitri says suddenly and I glance at him. He's close again. Closer than he was a few seconds ago and it makes me nervous.

  My voice is low and a little too raspy when I ask, “Of what?”

  He grins, this wide, devil-may-care thing that I know enough to have a split-second of worry, and then he's kissing me.

  For a heartbeat, there's this disconnect. I've wanted this for so damn long that it doesn't add up and I go still and startled under his lips.

  He seems to realize that I'm not into it and starts to pull away and that wakes me up. I throw an arm around his shoulders and yank him back to me.

  Dimitri almost purrs into the kiss, and I can feel his smile, the soft lips twitching up into the smile of his that I always get hung up on.

  Except it's pressed against me now and I can't help pressing harder, begging for more when he keeps the kiss almost chaste.

  I shift, lick at his lips and he groans and comes to life. His hands come up, knocking mine aside and threading into my hair to drag me closer. His mouth opens and I gasp, a noise he swallows down as he licks into my mouth, his teeth nipping lightly at my lower lip before he licks away the sting. He kisses me like he's memorizing me. Slow and almost methodical, and somehow filthy. His hands in my hair and our lips are the only places we touch and it's the most erotic kiss I've ever had.

  It blows every kiss I’ve had before out of the damn water and wrings a groan from me before I realize.

  What. The. Fuck.

  I jerk away from Dimitri who blinks big gray eyes, lazy and hungry,

  My lips are still tingling and my heart is pounding and I want to drag him back to me, want to kiss him until he forgets Vic and I forget Cari and that I want--

  “That, Camden, is why Victor is jealous,” Dimitri says, his voice sex rough and hungry and I bolt.

  Chapter 4.

  Originally Posted on EndersHallow Message Board.

  @Cariden_58 Cari went back to Vancouver?? Why? What the hell is happening?

  @ExistentialEndings could be she just got tired of the band?

  @VictriScreaming dick move, Cam letting her go by herself. What the hell is that?

  @ExistentialEndings maybe it's nothing, guys. Vic and Cam are friends too. It's not the end of the world for them to hang together.

  ----

  I knew before I kissed him it was a bad idea. Knew that he would panic and run. Cam likes to think I don't know him, that he's an enigma. The truth is he isn't wrong. He is an enigma. But I'm me and he's him.

  So I knew he wanted it. I know he's wanted it for months. And that he'd never act on it.

  Camden might want me but he's deep in the closet and he's fucking terrified. Which is why he ran, why I knew he would. Not like he can go far. I've got to ride back with him.

  I lick my lips and I can taste the Jack, and under that, Camden.

  And I want more.

  I shouldn't. I should be pissed, with myself and with Camden. But if we're following that logic, I should never have left the bus, never have fought with Vic, never invited Camden and Cari to join us, never given Vic a reason to be jealous.

  There's a whole fucking list of things I should be and should have done and none of them matter because I didn't do what I should.

  I'm still not doing what I should.

  It takes everything I've got to not chase Camden down, drag him into the bathroom and suck him off.

  He'd let me. He might fight it, a little, but he'd let me and he'd love it.

  For a second, my mouth actually waters as I consider it.

  In my pocket, my phone goes off and I sigh. Glance at it.

  Vic: where r u?

  I rub my thumb over the curve of the phone and consider answering.

  With Camden is the truth, but the truth is fastest way to start a fight these days and, evidence aside, I don't want to fight.

  I don't know what I w
ant.

  It's ironic and ridiculous. I've spent the better part of the past decade working to get here.

  And now that I've got everything I've ever wanted, it's empty.

  An empty bed, an empty car, and empty apartment.

  What good is it to have everything if it's empty?

  That's the question I've been turning over and struggling with for months.

  And the truth is, I'm not miserable. If I were, it'd be easy to make a change. To walk away from the show and the paycheck and go back to dirty couches and long nights with the band.

  But I love my job. I love my work and my friends and everything it lets me do. And when the empty bed and empty apartment are too much, I invade Cam and Cari’s house and get swallowed up by the constant noise. Her dogs and Cam’s off beat humming and the sound of cooking in the kitchen, and random friends who drop in after a long day on set.

  I was happy there. Happier than I'd been in years, and what did that say? That I prefer the corner of Cam’s couch and a slice of his life than all that I had with Victor?

  I swallowed hard and stand. Because I'm too fucking drunk to think about this.

  And because out in that parking lot, my best friend is having a big, gay, panic attack and the very least I can do is talk him through it.

  He's sitting on the hood of the car, his legs crossed and his shoulders slumped. I can see him tense, the way his shoulders tighten as I approach and I frown at him.

  “I'm not gonna attack you,” I say, grumpily.

  “All evidence to the contrary,” Camden teases, and I relax a little. Because even though he's nervous. Even though he's skittish and his eyes refuse to meet mine, he's teasing me.

  He isn't pushing me away.

  “Hey,” I nudge his knee before I think that he might not be comfortable with me touching him.

  We've always been tactile. It's a gut-punch surprise to consider that may no longer be true.

  I pull away, and stand there, awkwardly. Unsure of myself, which isn't a feeling I've got much experience with.

  “It doesn't change anything,” I say, finally, pushing through the nerves and my fear. Summoning a smile for him and he finally looks up at me.

  His eyes a little bit disbelieving and a little bit amused. “Even you don't believe the shit you say, Dee,” he says. Affectionately.

  Oh thank fuck, he doesn't hate me.

  I shrug and he slides off the car. “C’mon. I think we're done playing hooky.”

  We stop for pizza. By the time we get back to the bus, the concert will be in full swing and food will be scarce. And our good run hits a snag while we sit on a bench, waiting for the pizza. Two girls are standing near us, waiting too, and I make the mistake of catching their eyes when Camden glances at his phone. He nudges me.

  “Cari made it home. Your dog is a demon. Her words.”

  “My dog is a fucking sweetheart.”

  Camden snorts and one of the girls giggles and nudges her friend. I catch Camden's eye and tip my head slightly and he gives me this kind of panicked look--the one he always gets when we first run into fans in the wild--before it smooths out into the charming rough edged smile that is all Camden --- and none of my Cam.

  “Um. Hi? Hi.”

  The girl is so shy and nervous her voice is shaking and that always works for Camden. He's a sucker for the ones who are nervous and he turns to her, his accent stronger than normal and his smile firmly in place.

  “Hello, darlin,” he grins and it's like setting off a chain reaction.

  By the time we leave, the pizza is cold, and Camden is jittery for an entirely different reason and my jaw aches from smiling at the girls who seemed to travel in packs and would happily chatter about Fractal Ends and characters and how much we mean to them for hours.

  I love our fans. They make a show that makes no sense keep on. But the sheer level of enthusiasm they shove out can be exhausting, especially when I'm not braced for it.

  It's why we don't go out with Cari unless we've got Jeb.

  “You know it's gonna be all over Twitter,” he mutters, turning the car on and I grin at him.

  “Gonna be? Cam. It's already on Twitter,” I say and he snorts.

  “Fair enough.”

  The bus is empty when we stumble into it, with an extra-large pizza with everything, wings and an order of garlic knots that will make his breath stink but that he loves anyway.

  And a cookie because I ordered it automatically, forgetting for a few seconds that Cari wasn't waiting at home for us and jonesing for chocolate.

  “Should we head out there?” Camden offers, even though he's pulling out drinks for us opening the food up on the table. It's just a polite question he’s already answered so I don't. I sprawl in the chair across from him and nibble on the mushrooms he discards with a small wrinkle of disgust and scroll through Twitter.

  KP is pushing me to hire a social media manager. And I broke down and hired one for Small Things, but I refused to do it for myself. Part of why I'd made it was because Vic and I remained authentic. We were still the foul-mouthed bastards who played for five guys in a dive bar as we were now when we performed for thousands and drew an audience of a few million.

  I wasn't gonna change that now. No point fixing what isn't broken.

  “Wanna hear what they're sayin?” I ask, waving the phone at him. Camden doesn't bother to look up, just chucks a pizza crust at my head and I let out my breath because we're okay.

  We're okay.

  We spend a few hours doing nothing.

  That's the thing fans don't get. They see us on screen, at Small Things events, at conventions and in interviews. And I know what we look like. Like everything is always so much. So much fun, so much intensity, so much meaning and deep bonds and whatever the fuck else they decide. It's the same shit we deal with from Silence fans.

  But they don't understand this is where the depth of our friendship lies. Camden sprawled on the bed talking to his mother and reading a proposal for Small Things while I answer emails and troll Twitter, cross-legged next to him. It's reading a script and telling him how bad it is and him nodding and laughing because it is fucking awful.

  They don't get it's not the big moments or grand gestures. It's this. Reading in silence while he answers his email, the warmth of his leg pressed against my back to prop me up, and the huff of his laugh when something amuses him.

  I've never been comfortable enough with someone that I could sit in silence for hours and be happy. I thought that we had that, Vic and I, in high school, but even that wasn’t this.

  I straighten, pulling away from Camden and rolling off the bed.

  I can’t keep doing this. Can’t keep comparing Victor to Camden. They’re different, and they fill different roles in my life.

  It doesn’t mean I don’t love Victor. That everything we’ve been through isn’t important.

  “You okay, Dimitri?” Camden asks, softly. Like he knows what the answer is.

  “Don’t ask questions you don’t actually want me to answer, Cam,” I murmur, and turn toward the front of the bus.

  Because he’s my best friend, and I love him more than I probably should, and I can’t do this.

  So I retreat and Camden lets me, and we occasionally shout at each other, but it’s quiet, and it’s safe.

  And it’s not at all suspicious, when Victor and the band spill into the bus, hours later, high on the energy of the crowd, and other shit that I’m not asking about because I don’t actually want to know. Vic’s eyes slide past me, over me, looking for Camden, and I lower the book I’m reading, careful to keep my expression bland when he finally looks at me.

  “He’s sleeping,” I tell him, and Victor doesn’t even bother to look ashamed.

  “Where the hell were you?”

  The band is milling around, and talking. Jace is openly watching us, and I’m not stupid enough to think that the others aren’t listening.

  “We went to see Cari’s new movie,” I say, bland
ly.

  “You aren’t here to watch the princess,” Vic snaps.

  I roll to my feet and stalk out of the living area, to the back of the bus, into the tiny bedroom that has a door. The room that Cari and Camden had been sharing and that I left before.

  The only fucking place on this damn bus that offers a little bit of privacy.

  “What the hell, Dimitri. Running from me now?” Victor bitches, following me into the room.

  “Shut the fucking door,” I say, but my words are more tired than they are angry.

  This is overdue and I hate that we’re having it now.

  It’s been a good day and fighting with Vic is going to sour it. Turn a good day ugly.

  I don’t really want that. But.

  It’s overdue.

  He eyes me for a long minute, and I stare at him, blank-faced and patient, until he finally breathes a curse and slams the door behind him.

  “Vic, you got a problem with me, we take care of it in private. That’s been my only fucking stipulation for years. That hasn’t changed.”

  “It’s the band, Dimitri. When did you decide that you’re too good for them?”

  “Do you want me to fight with you in front of Cam and Cari?” I shoot back, and he flushes. Because nothing pisses him off quite like me arguing with him in front of people he’s not comfortable with. And Cari and Cam kinda have the lead on that, these days.

  “You aren’t quitting.” he says, and I let out a slow breath.

  “No.” I say, simply.

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s not a fair thing for you to ask. It’s not a thing we’ve ever asked of each other,” I say.

  “I’ve never thought you were in love with someone else.” he says, and that stings.

  “You don’t trust me,” I say, tilting my head, just a little and he shrugs.

  “Cari’s pretty. And you two work together on Small Things.”

  For a heartbeat, I go still. Startled and then, fucking relieved.

  It’s really hard to get pissed that he doesn’t trust me when I made out with Cam earlier today. While he was wondering where the fuck I was.