by K. C. Wells
“Okay. And, hon, I know it never works when I tell you this, but don’t stress. It’ll be fine.”
It didn’t work. Even if he knew Sara was right and he shouldn’t pace around the room getting himself more and more freaked out over what was probably nothing, it never, ever worked. In the end, he just sat on the edge of his bed and started shredding at the strings on one of his bracelets. He hated when he got all spazzy and couldn’t focus on anything but how anxious he was. He hated being awkward and uncool and unsure of how he should handle things. He should be downstairs laughing with everyone, chill like Danny since that kiss was clearly not a big deal. Instead, he was freaking out over not being at home and worried that he’d ruined the best thing that had ever happened to him.
Later….
Every time he thought about Danny whispering that in his ear, Elliot’s stomach turned again.
“IT’S getting late. We’ve gotta be up so early tomorrow.” Tate pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at it for the fifth time in less than a half an hour.
“It’s nine. Exactly how old are you?” Danny asked with an eye roll.
They were going to have to work on loosening Tate up. He’d have pushed the issue more if he wasn’t so worried about Elliot at the moment, at the beach with Reece, probably all mad at him because of the kiss that shouldn’t have been, but was, and had been so amazing…. Danny had to hold back a groan. What was his problem? He needed to do something. Yes. That always helped whenever he started to think too much.
“We should play a prank,” Danny whispered. “The fans would love it, and it would be fun.”
Webb chuckled. He was a surprising partner in crime for Danny’s many schemes. He even went for the ones Elliot turned down. “What are we doing?”
“Guys…,” Tate sighed. “Really?”
“Yes. Really.” Danny grinned. “Don’t be lame, Tater-tot.”
Tate punched Webb. “I’m never telling you anything again.”
“What?” Webb laughed. “It’s cute that your mom calls you that. I had to tell someone!”
“And you picked Danny to tell?” Webb snorted into his hand.
“I won’t call you that ever again if you help us prank The Pixies.”
“Since when is the prank on the girls?” Tate asked.
“Uh, since always? Reece and El aren’t here, the OCD guys would beat us down. I’m seriously not going to mess with Isaiah, and Chris is too chill. It wouldn’t even be fun. It’s gotta be the girls.”
“Fine. What are we going to do?”
Danny thought for a minute. “Okay, here’s the plan. The girls are out tonight at that meet and greet with fans, right? So we sneak into their room and tie all their clothes together. Maybe string them along the ceilings in their rooms like streamers.” Danny chuckled. It was tame, but it would annoy the hell out of them.
Even Tate had to laugh. “And I assume we’re doing this on camera?”
Danny rolled his eyes. “Of course. Let’s go find one of the night cameramen.” There weren’t nearly as many there after dinner, but the house always had one or two around in case anything good happened.
Danny led Tate and Webb and the cameraman up to the suite shared by The Pixies. They were giggling under their breaths and whispering plans as they went. It was fun, relaxing, even if he did wish Reece and Elliot were there to join in the stupidity. It took way longer to tie all the girls’ clothes together than they thought, especially with them laughing and throwing things at each other the whole time. But eventually they did manage to get them in long streamers that they used duct tape to string along the ceiling. By the end, the girls’ room looked like some weird cloth party, and Danny, Tate, and Webb could barely breathe from laughing.
“We’ve gotta get outta here before they catch us,” Tate said, hauling in a long breath.
“Like they’re not going to know who it was,” Webb retorted.
“They won’t know which ones of us it was. Other than Danny.”
Danny smiled. He was usually in the middle of most house pranks. He didn’t mind taking credit. Or blame? Credit. He grinned. Definitely credit. He was proud of his work. The Pixies were going to have like twenty cows.
“Out to the pool?”
The three boys scampered down the stairs and didn’t relax until they were poolside, trying to hold in their laughter.
“Chelsea is gonna kill us.”
“I’m more scared of Andrea. Did you see her put Chris in a headlock the other day?”
Tate snorted. “We can take ’em.” He glanced over his shoulder, though, and ruined the effect of his bravado. “It probably is best if we disappear to our rooms before they get home though.”
Webb nodded. “Agreed. I don’t want to be anywhere near ground zero when they find it.”
Their rooms. Elliot. Danny was nervous all of a sudden. “Yeah. Let’s go to bed.” He tried to sound casual. Totally not a big deal. Elliot might still be at the beach with Reece. Right? Not likely. The chances of him being up in their room were good. It was late. They’d have to talk. Danny stood, though. Tate and Webb were right. It was best if they disappeared before The Pixies came home.
HE TIPTOED up the stairs to the room he shared with Elliot. He didn’t know what he was going to say. The kiss had changed something between them, and he wasn’t sure if it was good or bad. He’d wanted to kiss Elliot so bad, so, so bad, and it seemed like Elliot was kissing back. But then…. He winced. What happened after wasn’t so good. He’d looked away because he was scared, and Elliot took it the wrong way and took off and things had been so awkward. He’d gotten up to go downstairs and talk to Elliot about a million times but then always sat back on his bed because he didn’t know what to do when he found him.
And then earlier, at the studios. Elliot always sat by Danny, and he’d deliberately plopped down in Tate’s usual seat by Webb. It actually hurt. Danny didn’t know if that was Elliot’s way of saying “Bad move. We won’t be kissing again,” or if he was just weirded out by the way it had ended. Danny didn’t know what they were going to say to each other. All he wanted to say was, “I want to be more than friends.”
He took a deep breath when he got to their door, ready for whatever was on the other side, determined to at least restore them to their previous comfortable if overly handsy friendship. He wasn’t expecting what he got—a shaking Elliot perched on the edge of his bed looking like he was about to fall apart.
“El! What’s wrong?” Danny dropped his towel on the floor and rushed over to sit next to Elliot on the bed. He’d been right. Elliot was shaking. Hard. All thoughts of kissing and relationship talks flew out of Danny’s mind. He just wanted Elliot to be back to okay.
“I’m just s-stupid.” Elliot put his head in his hands. “I get anxious sometimes over little things sometimes. Things that I can usually just brush off. But they pile up on me, and I can’t handle them anymore. I don’t know why it happens.”
“Yeah, I’ve never seen you like this.”
“I was kind of hoping you never would.”
Danny’s heart constricted at that. Even if nothing else, they were close enough to help each other with things. “El. Am I your friend?”
Elliot nodded. “’Course.”
“Then here’s how it’s going to be. Take your shoes off and lie down.”
“I’m not really tired.”
He was. Danny saw the lines of stress etched down his face. Soon he’d be ready to sleep for hours. He just had to calm down.
“I am,” Danny lied. “Just… here.” He flipped back Elliot’s covers and pushed him under. Then he crawled under himself and wrapped his arm around Elliot’s waist. Elliot’s face tucked into the hollow of his collarbone like it belonged there. Slowly, Danny loosened his hold until he wasn’t holding anymore, just rubbing his hand up and down Elliot’s back slowly.
“What are you doing?”
“Closing my eyes.” Danny scooted down touched his forehead to Elliot’s
. And he couldn’t help it. He just leaned forward and placed one slow, chaste kiss on Elliot’s soft lips. It probably wasn’t what Elliot wanted from him, but it was his way of giving friendship. Comfort. It was what Elliot needed. Danny hoped. Because it sure as hell felt like everything that was right in his world.
“What was that for?” Elliot mumbled. He nuzzled his face into the touch. Danny had been right. He was exhausted.
“Shhh, El. Just go to sleep.”
ELLIOT woke up to the sun blaring in the window and the alarm on his cell phone pulsing from the floor. He reached down and silenced the alarm and would’ve rolled over, but a strong arm tightened around his middle.
Danny.
He blushed at memories of the night before, of his dumb anxiety, of Danny kissing him so sweet and slow and holding him until he fell asleep. Danny must think I’m a moron. But he’d stayed. He hadn’t gotten up and crawled in his own bed.
“What time is it?” Danny mumbled into Elliot’s neck. He was awake. Elliot went to move, but Danny squeezed him again. “No, stay here. You’re warm.”
“It’s early. I still had the alarm set for yesterday’s recording session.”
“Good. I don’t wanna get up yet.” Danny brushed a tiny kiss into the hairs on the back of Elliot’s neck. Elliot shivered. He couldn’t help it.
“Danny?”
“Hmmm?”
Elliot turned in Danny’s arms, disrupting their warm cocoon. Danny grumbled and arranged the cover back over them. Then he draped his arm around Elliot and pulled him close again.
“Danny?” Elliot repeated. He couldn’t stand to ask, but he had to know. Had something changed between them?
“Shhh.” Danny leaned forward and pressed a small familiar kiss to Elliot’s lips, like they’d done it a hundred times. His eyes drifted open, sleepy and gorgeous, pale green in the morning light. He brought his hand up, cupped Elliot’s face, and rubbed their noses together before leaning in for one more kiss.
“So we’re good?” Elliot asked. There were so many more questions, but he didn’t want to know the answers if they weren’t what he wanted to hear, so he didn’t ask. He just smiled as Danny nodded and pulled him forward again into another kiss, a real one, deep and intense and pretty much the sexiest thing Elliot had ever felt. He shuddered hard.
Yes. That’s what it’s supposed to feel like.
Elliot surrendered himself to the kiss, to touches and warm morning sunlight and the reality that it was Danny and he was there, in Elliot’s bed, kissing him and touching him and acting like he actually wanted it. It hadn’t been a mistake. It wasn’t a dream. Elliot was about to run his hand up under the back of Danny’s shirt, feel his skin for once instead of frustrating fabric, but the faucet in the bathroom connecting their room to the room the other three boys shared turned on, and Reece’s loud laugh sounded in the morning quiet.
“We’d better stop,” Danny whispered.
Elliot’s heart shuddered to a stop. “Like… permanently?”
Danny smiled and brushed a curl off Elliot’s forehead. “I don’t think I could, honestly. I just meant for now. Wouldn’t be very good if one of the guys walked in.” He lifted the covers and walked over to his side of the room and flopped down on his bed for a moment. “It’s cold over here,” he said quietly.
Elliot forced himself out of bed and over to his dresser before he did something dumb like climb into Danny’s bed to warm him up. “We should probably get ready anyway. Today’s schedule is long.”
Danny sighed and dragged himself out of bed too, walking over to join Elliot at the dressers. He ran his hand up and down Elliot’s back a few times and kissed his shoulder. Even that made Elliot shiver. “I know,” Danny said. Then he tipped his head up and kissed Elliot once more, a small brush of lips, before he headed into their shared bathroom to greet Reece.
Elliot was left standing at their dressers, fighting a grin and wondering when this had become his life.
THE next week passed in a dizzying blur of stolen kisses and hidden touches. Elliot didn’t know how he managed to make it through the day, eat, speak, sing, anything really, when all he wanted to do was find another hiding place where he and Danny could wrap their arms around each other and breathe each other in. It felt like he couldn’t really breathe unless Danny was near. Nights were shared pillows and whispered jokes, kisses and muffled laughter. Days were secret touches and sneaky glances. It got harder and harder to act like everything was the same as it had been before because it was anything but. They were nothing like they had been before. Or maybe they’d always been more than friends but had finally just admitted it—at least with their bodies. Elliot didn’t mind taking things as they were. To push for more might be the worst thing he could do.
Because more than all the other things that had happened since the night of that talent show, more than the band, their growing fame, their fans—more than any of that, Elliot was grateful he’d found Danny. He didn’t know how to say that without sounding like a loser, so he didn’t. At least not with words. He said it with kisses, with his arms wound tightly around Danny as they fell asleep, with every giggle hidden in their room, with every touch shielded by backs or blankets or carefully placed knees he said it.
I’m so lucky I met you….
I may have never fallen for anyone before, but I know what I’m feeling. It’s real….
I think it might be love….
Someday, he figured. Someday he’d have the courage to say it out loud and not just with his eyes and hands and lips.
Someday.
IT GOT to the point where everything started to feel normal—the recording sessions, the TV show, the fans. Sometimes Elliot had a hard time remembering how it felt to be a regular guy wandering through the halls of his high school and hanging out with his small circle of friends on the weekend. But other times, it would hit him in this big wall of disbelief. How can any of this be real? It was hard to breathe in those moments. His heart would start racing, his stomach fluttered, and he had to clench his fists together, nails digging into his palms, in hope that the small bite of pain would keep him on the ground instead of spinning off into panicky, thrilling space.
Elliot was in the middle of one of those moments, crowded into a tiny sound booth with his best friends and Keller rehearsing one of the tracks for their album. He tried to remind himself to breathe, to chill out and not start freaking about everything that was happening. He was pretty sure he seemed outwardly calm. None of the guys or Keller paused the discussion to look at him, but a few moments later a warm hand crept onto the small of his back through the space in his metal folding chair. Danny. He scratched gently at Elliot’s back for a minute or two. It was comfort, simple but surprisingly effective.
I’m cool. I’m fine. None of this is a big deal, right? We’re just singing….
Danny didn’t move his hand.
Keller shuffled through the music and cleared his throat. “Okay, ‘Fool for Love’. Elliot. Let’s try it this time with you on the opening verse. When you get to ‘I can’t believe I fell, for your lines, for your eyes, I can’t believe you’ve done it again…’ Danny is going to sing first harmony and finish out the verse with you like we tried last week. Got it?”
Elliot nodded and shared a small smile with Danny. He loved when they got to sing alone together. It didn’t happen often. So far, he was paired with Reece the most, sometimes Tate.
“Cool. Then Webb, you’re going to come in with ‘Why you gotta do it, girl, why you gotta do it?’ Then we hit the chorus with all five of you, okay?”
Everyone nodded.
“Let’s run through it a few times first, and then we’ll take a break before we lay down the vocals for this section. Elliot, you’re up.”
Keller played the chords on his guitar instead of using the produced instrumental track that would be on the album. Elliot liked it better that way, with just Keller’s guitar and often Reece’s too picking out a countermelody, their voices
, and nothing else. It felt more real somehow, less plastic… more them. He wondered if maybe later, when they had a name and some say on the way things went if they could have more acoustic tracks on an album. It wasn’t anything to bring up this early in the game, though, when they were nobody and lucky just to get a chance.
THE rehearsal took forever. Keller wasn’t happy unless everything was perfect, so if Elliot flubbed a note or Webb’s voice cracked, if the five-part harmony at the chorus wasn’t spot on pitch, then they did it again. And again. And again. Until their voices were tired and they needed a break if they planned to record anything in the afternoon.
“All right, guys. Lunch. Have a few cups of hot tea and try not to talk too much, okay? No shouting.” Keller shot a glance at Reece and Danny. “Rest your voices.”
The boys were all tired, so staying quiet wasn’t as hard as it usually would’ve been. They sank into their typical spots in the break room, Webb and Reece on the couch, Tate on the lounger, Danny and Elliot sharing the other lounger in the corner with Elliot curled up on Danny’s lap. It was always like that. Nobody blinked when they sat wrapped around each other. They drank tea and ate soup and mumbled a few things about how Keller was a slave driver, but they still couldn’t keep the smiles off their faces. They were recording. Every day the moment when they’d be a real band with a real album drew closer.
Elliot cradled his mint tea in his hands and sipped at it, grateful for the warmth of Danny’s body against his back in the sudden chill of their overly air-conditioned break room. He had to remind himself not to turn and nuzzle up against Danny with his face or turn his head for a kiss like he had that morning when they woke up spooned together under Elliot’s comforter with their legs in a comfortable tangle. The guys didn’t seem to notice the cuddling; hell, they all did it themselves—Elliot had seen Reece with his head on Tate’s or Webb’s shoulder during a movie more than once. But kissing? That wasn’t the same thing. It probably wouldn’t be the same thing if Elliot turned and nipped Danny’s neck either, ’cause yeah, he wanted to do that too. Wanted to leave marks that told everyone Danny was his and to quit looking. He knew the girls in the house looked. The fans too. Who wouldn’t? Danny was beautiful. Too damn bad.