The Brightsiders

by Jen Wilde

  “Whoa,” Ry says as he looks around the room. “I feel like we just walked into the lair of a James Bond villain.”

  The walls are made of rose gold mirrors; the booths and tables are metallic gold; the floor is lined with shimmery gold tiles. There’s a very obvious theme here, and I’m digging it. In here, I feel like I’m made of gold.

  I never really felt worthy of VIP rooms before. But I’ve been through enough heartache lately to know that good things need to be celebrated.

  Chloe wraps their arms around me, and we let our hug linger. “Proud of you, Em.”

  “Thanks, Chlo,” I say, tearing up a little. When we finally let go of one another, we join the others.

  I slide into the booth next to Alyssa, and Alfie slides in next to me.

  “Congrats on the Grammy nom!” Alyssa says as she puts an arm around me. “Also, you rocked it on Good Morning America, Em.”

  Charlie, sitting on her other side, leans over to touch my thigh. “Totally rocked it! And you looked so damn hot! That dress was a stunner!”

  “Thank you so much!” My cheeks burn. “I froze my tits off, but it was worth it.” We laugh, and I feel Alfie’s hand rest on top of mine on the seat. He’s talking excitedly about our Grammy nomination with Taylor and Jamie, and I keep talking to Charlie and Alyssa, but just feeling his hand on mine sets off fireworks in my belly.

  Soon, we all venture out onto the dance floor to rock out. I’m not worried about the paparazzi waiting for us outside. I’m not worried about people in the bar snapping sneaky photos of me. For the first time, I think I’m adjusting to life in the spotlight. I don’t even feel the urge to drink. I look around at my friends, the people I love most in the world, and seeing them having fun fills me with such happiness I could explode. These people are my family.

  “Em!” Chloe says into my ear. “I’m going to order some more fries. Come with?”

  “Sure,” I say. As I slide past Alfie, I bend strategically so he can see down my shirt. His jaw clenches, and I raise an eyebrow at him suggestively.

  Chloe and I link arms, then walk to the bar and wait to be served. My phone vibrates, and I check it to see a text.

  ALFIE: meet me in the James Bond room.

  I glance back at the dance floor. Alfie’s watching me, and he’s got that look in his eyes. The same one from the night when he first kissed me, the heat emanating off of him and hitting me right in the gut. He walks my way, his gaze still locked on me. I can’t take my eyes off him as he strides over. The back of his hand brushes against my butt as he walks straight past me. I visibly shiver, and Chloe gives me a weird look.

  “What can I get you?” the bartender asks.

  I try to answer, but my mouth is as dry as the Sahara desert, so Chloe orders instead. Physically, I may be standing at the bar, but I’m just a shell. My brain, my heart, and my ovaries are already chasing Alfie.

  “Gotta pee,” I say to Chloe, then step away from the bar and hurry to catch up with Alfie. I look over my shoulder as I walk down the long hallway to the VIP room, making sure nobody is watching. A hand takes mine and pulls me through the golden door, and I smile before I even see his face because I know it’s him.

  He locks the door and pins me against it, peppering kisses down my neck. “What took you so long?”

  “I wanted to make you wait.”

  He sticks his bottom lip out into a pout. “You’re mean.”

  “You’re sexy.”

  He smiles. “You’re forgiven.”

  I run my hands through his hair and pull him in closer, kissing him slowly. He snakes his arms around my back and lifts me up, carrying me over to the booth and resting me on the table. His fingers run over my knee and up my thigh. I feel my body temperature rise with every inch of skin he covers, until he reaches the hem of my skirt. His hand lingers there, and I want it to move higher, so I slide my tongue into his mouth, hoping it will prompt him to keep going. It does. His fingers tremble against my thigh as he pushes my skirt up a little, and then a little bit more.

  BANG. The door explodes open, and Ryan jumps into the room.

  “Frightsi—!” he yells, holding his phone up at us. “What the fuck?!”

  I scream and tug my skirt down. Alfie pulls Ryan in and slams the door closed behind him.

  “Alfie,” Ry says, his forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Emmy?”

  “I thought the door was locked!” is all I can think to say.

  Alfie jiggles the handle and drags a hand down his face. “The lock’s broken. Fuck!”

  Ryan is frozen, standing there staring at me with his jaw hanging open.

  Alfie holds Ry at arm’s length. “Ry, don’t freak out.”

  Ryan shrugs Alfie’s hands away. “Oh, trust me, I’m freaking out. Of all the things in the world to freak out about, this is definitely in the top three. I mean. What? How? When? What? WHAT?!”

  I stand up and tug my skirt down again, feeling painfully self-conscious. I notice Ry’s phone still in his hand and start to panic.

  “Ry,” I say, trying to sound calm. “Did you … snap that?”

  Ryan still looks like he’s in shock, but he gets himself together long enough to check his phone. I hear the recording of his voice replaying over and over on Snapchat, saying, “Frightsi— What the fuck?!”

  Alfie clutches his head. “Ry, man, please tell me you didn’t post it.”

  He shakes his head. “No. It didn’t post yet.”

  Alfie and I both step forward, waving our hands at him.

  “Please don’t do it,” Alfie says.

  Ry looks hurt. “Do you really think I would do that? If this got out, it would blow up our whole lives. But apparently that’s something you don’t understand.”

  Neither of us says anything. We just stand there sheepishly.

  “Ryan,” Alfie says, “we’re just messing around. It’s no big deal.”

  I nod even though it hurts to hear that. Ryan doesn’t look convinced.

  “That’s supposed to make this better?” he says. “Look, it’s one thing if we were all just friends hanging out. But we’re in a band. This has disaster written all over it, seriously. What if one of you gets hurt? What if you get together and then break up? What does that mean for the Brightsiders? Have you even thought about any of this?”

  Ry just said all of my worst fears out loud, but Alfie just laughs. He actually laughs.

  “Dude, of course we have,” he says. “Don’t worry, this is just a little thing we’ve been doing. I’m sure we’ll both get sick of each other soon and move on—to people outside the band next time. And we are not getting together. It’s just a physical thing, right, Em?” He turns to look at me, an amused smile on his lips.

  Oh, God, this was such a mistake. My heart crumbles, sucking up all the oxygen from my lungs like a sinkhole.

  But I nod. Of course I nod. What else can I do?

  Ryan glances between us, his eyes still narrowed with suspicion. The three-second video of us making out replays again and again like a cruel reminder of how quickly everything can turn sour. Three seconds. That’s all it took to ruin everything.

  Ry deletes the snap from his phone. Alfie and I sigh with relief, but he’s not done. “If whatever this is”—he waves his hands between me and Alfie—“actually doesn’t mean anything, then it needs to stop. It’s not worth risking our futures for. Especially when there are literally thousands of people in this town who would love to make out with either of you.” He drags a hand down his face. “I swear to God, you’re so lucky it was me who busted you and not Sal, she’d kill the both of you. This kind of shit is exactly what has destroyed bands before.”

  “Okay, Ry,” I say. “We get it. We fucked up.” I fucked up. Classic Emmy.

  “Promise me this is done,” Ry says, his eyes pleading with us. I feel terrible for putting him in this position.

  Without waiting a single second, Alfie takes his hand and shakes it. “Promise.”

  Ryan nod
s, then holds his hand out to me. “Emmy?”

  I want to beg him not to make me do it. But they’re both staring at me, both waiting for me to give my answer. If I say yes, I’ll be saving the band and all three of our careers. If I say no, I’ll be laying my bloodied heart on these golden tiles for Alfie to stomp on with his damn glittery boots. Why was it so easy for him to shake Ry’s hand, so easy for him to just give me up, like I’m nothing to him?

  I’m nothing to him.

  I’m nothing.

  I reach out and shake Ryan’s hand. “Promise.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Ryan leaves us in the VIP room so we, as he put it, “can clean ourselves up.” All we do is stand there, facing each other while masterfully avoiding actually looking at each other.

  “Um,” Alfie says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess … it was fun while it lasted. But Ry’s right. Right?”

  “Totally.” My voice cracks, and I clear my throat. “He was right. Someone could really get hurt.” I feel tears threatening to spill over. I pull my phone out and pretend I’m reading a text.

  “Emmy,” he says softly. “Are you okay?”

  I nod. Fake a smile. Nod again. Alfie puts a hand on the small of my back, and it almost kills me.

  “Hey,” he says. “It’s cool. He deleted the video.”

  I scoff. “I’m not even worried about that, to be honest.”

  “You’re worried about Ry?” he asks. “You know him, he doesn’t hold grudges. Yeah, he’s pissed now, but by the time we leave tonight we’ll all be buds again.”

  “I know that.”

  His hand drops to his side. “Oh. Then what’s wrong?”

  How can someone so smart be so damn clueless? I look up at him, suddenly furious.

  “You’re what’s wrong!” I shout.

  He steps back slightly, frowning. I ignore the pain in his eyes and start saying my piece.

  “How little do I mean to you if you can just drop me with the shake of a hand? You didn’t even need to think about it. You just gave me up”—I snap my fingers—“like that.”

  “Wait,” he says, holding his palms up. “That’s what you’re pissed about?”

  “Hell yes, I’m pissed about that! I’m pissed that it was so easy for you to give me up, like I’m nothing. Like I’m not worth holding on to. Like I’m not worth fighting for even just a little bit.”

  He furrows his brow. “You wanted me to fight Ryan?”

  I clench my hands into fists and groan. “No. But I didn’t think it would be so easy for you to end this.”

  He’s getting mad now. His jaw clenches and unclenches. “What was I supposed to do? He had video of us!”

  I roll my eyes. “Alfie, be real. As if he would actually post a video like that. He even said it himself.”

  Alfie throws his arms into the air. “Fine. But he busted us. And he was right; our careers aren’t worth risking over some easy fun.”

  Those last two words fly out of his mouth like bullets, hitting me straight in the heart.

  Easy fun. Easy fun. Easy fun. The words ripple through me like shockwaves.

  “Easy fun?” I ask. I try to sound ferocious, but it sounds more like a squeak. I’m like a lion who can only meow. “So I’m just easy fun.”

  He pushes his hands through his hair. “That’s not what I said.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “It is.”

  “Well, it’s not what I meant.”

  I blink back tears. “Whatever.”

  “You’re not easy fun,” he says. “This”—he gestures to us—“was easy fun.”

  I hold my hands up to silence him. “Just stop. Repeating it isn’t making it sound any better.”

  He squeezes his bottom lip between his fingers, studying me. Then he shoves his hands in his jeans pockets. “I don’t get it. I thought you wanted easy fun?”

  “I…” I clench my jaw. This is too hard. He just doesn’t get it. He obviously doesn’t feel what I’m feeling.

  “Emmy,” he pleads. “Talk to me.”

  I lose it. “I wouldn’t gamble everything we’ve worked hard for over ‘easy fun.’” I make air quotes with my fingers. “But maybe I’d gamble it all for you.”

  He sucks in a quick breath. “Hold up. What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying…” I trail off, staring at his surprised expression. He looks horrified. What the hell am I doing? I wouldn’t really risk my entire career over him, would I? I push out an exasperated sigh. “Fuck it. I’m done.”

  I storm out, only to do a 180 and storm right back in a moment later. Alfie is leaning on a table, his head hanging low.

  “Fuck it again,” I say. “I’m saying that I lo—”

  Someone bursts into the room, hitting me in the back with the door.

  “Ow!” I cry out. “Motherfucking asshole!” I hunch over, rubbing my back. I can already tell it’s going to leave a nasty bruise.

  “Shit!” Jessie says, bending down to look at me. “I’m so sorry, babe. You good?”

  I straighten up, blinking at her like I’ve seen a ghost. What fresh hell is this? Have I been cursed? I glance behind her, almost expecting my parents to walk into the room, because that’s the only thing that could make tonight worse than it already is. Then I notice the glass of bourbon in her hand.

  “Jesus, Jessie,” Alfie scolds her. “You almost knocked her out. What the hell are you doing here, anyway?”

  “Fuck you!” she yells. “The only reason I came in here was because I saw Ryan walk out looking like he was ready to smash something. I wanted to see what made him so ragey. I should’ve figured it was you.”

  She watches us for a minute, her lips pressing into a hard line. Alfie and I stay silent, the tension so thick it’s suffocating me.

  “I fucking knew it,” Jessie finally says. She gets right in my face. “You and him are together, aren’t you?”

  I glance over her shoulder at Alfie, then shake my head. “Nope. That has been made abundantly clear.”

  “Bullshit,” she says. “Tell me the truth.”

  Alfie tries to step between us. “She doesn’t have to tell you anything.”

  “Get out of my face,” Jessie says, waving her glass around. “I can tell she’s been crying. And I know it’s over you. Get away from her, you dick.”

  Alfie scoffs. “Oh, you’re coming in here, acting all heroic after all the shit you put her through? All the times you made her cry, I was the one who was there while you were out partying with her credit card.”

  That’s when Jessie snaps. She throws her drink in Alfie’s face, soaking him.

  “Jessie!” I yell.

  Alfie gasps, his shoulders and arms tensed. “What the actual fuck?!” He pushes his hair back, drops of bourbon flicking onto us.

  “Jessie,” I say, tugging on her elbow. “Get out.”

  She turns to me, her eyes wide. “You’re taking his side?”

  “I’m not taking anyone’s side!” I feel like I’m about to burst into tears, so I get the hell out of there.

  When I find Chloe, they’re holding their phone in front of them, pretending to be texting even though their gaze is trained on something across the bar. I follow Chloe’s line of sight to see Paris making out with a gorgeous woman with killer cleavage.

  “Jesus,” I say, rolling my eyes. “This night is turning to shit so fast.” I tug on Chloe’s hand. “Come on, let’s go home. I think we’re done here.”

  They stay put. “No. I can’t leave because of her. If I avoided places because my ex-girlfriends might be there, half of LA would be off limits.” Chloe laughs, but then they notice the tears on my cheeks and gasp.

  “Honey!” they say. “What happened?”

  I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’m fine.” My voice cracks, and all my focus is going to holding back more tears. “But hey, I promised you I’d help you escape if you were ever in a room with Paris again, so let’s make a run for it before you’re pulled in by her se
x fumes.” I force a smile, but I know they can see right through my tough-girl act.

  “More like sex rays,” they say, laughing. I smile, appreciative of their attempt to cheer me up.

  Chloe glances at Paris, then back at me, and nods. Then they take my hand and start leading me out the back exit of the bar.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  I’m awake before my alarm goes off. I spent half the night lying here, staring at the ceiling, trying to come up with a reason to skip the recording session today. I spent the other half beating myself up for letting myself start something with Alfie that was destined to burn me. I don’t know when it happened—maybe it was when he held my hand under the table in Hawaii, maybe it was when he sang about my truth-or-dare eyes, or maybe it’s been there since the first night I rode my bike to his house in the middle of the night when I was twelve years old.

  Whenever it happened, there’s no denying it anymore. I’m in love with Alfie Jones.

  But he’s not in love with me.

  By six a.m., I can’t stand it anymore. I get up and go downstairs for an early-morning swim in Chloe’s infinity pool, hoping exercise will burn off some of my nerves. I do a couple of laps and then roll onto my back, floating, but I stop when it reminds me of that day on the island when Alfie and I floated in the lake. He took my hand when I told him about sea otters holding on so they don’t lose each other. Maybe that was when I started to fall.

  I lift myself out of the pool and shake the water off, trying to shake the memories off, too. It doesn’t matter that he held my hand, because now he’s let it go. He’s been one of my closest friends for years, has stuck by me through all the shit, has known me better than anyone. He’s one of the few people in my life who has never doubted me. And now it’s all ruined.

  My heart cracks at the thought of never being with Alfie again, of never kissing his lips or touching his skin or running my hands through his hair. But I need to suck it up and endure the pain. I need to push through this even though it’s destroying me.

  I wrap my towel around me, go upstairs, and step into the shower, trying again to come up with an excuse to bail. I watch the water swirl into the drain at my feet. I feel like I’m swirling into an abyss, too. The last thing I want to do today is lock myself in a recording studio with Alfie. I wish I could run away, just get on a plane and get the hell out of LA, out of the US, out of this freaking hemisphere. But ghosting on Alfie today would also mean flaking on Ry, and I can’t do that to him. I’ve already hurt him enough.