by D. M. Paige
Liam pushed past me on the way.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Like you care,” he said and continued into the crowd.
“What’s his problem?” I asked Naomi when I got to her.
She shrugged. “I think he broke up with Astoria again, but he wouldn’t confirm it.”
Astoria was an actress who’d starred in one of those kid shows where she played twins—one good and one bad. The show was super popular. And so was Astoria. But since it ended last year, she’d been a hot mess. She was always out too late, had a couple of car accidents, and had stolen a couple of necklaces from photo shoots. Then she started dating Liam—a match made in paparazzi heaven. They broke up and made up on a monthly basis, always in the headlines for one reason or another.
“Is she here?” I asked.
“I wish. I need some color for this story. If she crashed this thing, I would pay her. Not that she needs the money.”
Naomi spotted someone that she wanted to talk to across the room. Some lead singer of a band I’d never heard of. He was older than her—probably in his thirties—but he was cute for an older guy. He was wearing almost the exact same outfit that she was—all black, heavy on leather. I trailed along, but I had nothing to add to the conversation. It was like they were speaking another language. This guy’s band was popular before I was born, but Naomi knew every song. She sounded less like the tough-as-nails reporter and more like a fan.
The vibe between them had shifted. He was asking her if she wanted to check out his next show at the Bowery. I expected her to shut him down. But instead, Naomi whispered to me, “Go mingle, take notes.”
Was Naomi flirting, or was she working on another story? Either way, I took the hint.
She batted her long lashes in the direction of the aging rocker. I walked away as quickly as I could, not wanting to know the answer. I found myself standing next to Hu. He told me about the new T-shirt line that the band was going to design and showed me some of the designs on his phone. He even offered to share them for the article.
I thought they looked cool and really creative. They featured superprofessional drawings depicting the band as cartoon characters. Hu said that the whole band was really into charity work and serious about giving back to the community, especially to school art programs.
As Hu made his way toward the stage for their performance, the images showed up on my tablet and I saved them. But deep down, I knew that there was no way that the charity stuff was going to make Naomi’s article. I didn’t have the heart to tell him. Maybe a rave review of their music would make the article, though. I crossed my fingers for them as the band made their way up to the stage.
As they were getting set up—Hu on guitar, Cam on bass, Manny on drums, and Henry and Liam in front on the mics—I silently hoped they would blow the crowd, and Naomi, away.
The band played their old hits and the new song that Henry had been working on. The crowd was thrilled. Tam, who was fashionably late, arrived in time to dance on one of the tables with some actor that was a vampire on cable TV. I could never do something like that. But Tam was one of those girls who looked just as comfortable on a tabletop as she did in a board meeting.
And the music was that good. Even Naomi was smiling slightly and tapping her feet to the beat of the music by the end of their set. When they got done, though, she scowled and complained again to the thirtysomething musician. Maybe she was trying to impress him with her skepticism.
Just then, the room got quiet. Naomi had gotten her wish. Astoria was here. She looked exactly like she did in the tabloids. Superlong hair extensions, superlong legs, and superplump lips pouting in Liam’s direction. There was a guy on her arm—a guy who was not Liam. A bunch of flashbulbs went off, and people were digging for their camera phones. Naomi glared at me, so I took out my tablet and began to film the encounter, which she would no doubt refer to in her article.
Liam made his way over to Astoria, and they stared at each other a long beat.
What was he going to do?
Liam smiled at Astoria, leaned in, and kissed her on the cheek. Astoria smiled and did the same. She motioned to her companion and introduced the two guys to each other. It all seemed very civil. The room sighed, clearly expecting a train wreck and getting air kisses instead.
Naomi sighed so loud I could feel her breath on my shoulder.
“What does this mean? Are they on-again or off-again?” I asked.
“Do I look like I care? I should be in Iraq, eating MREs and talking to soldiers.”
“What’s an MRE?” I asked.
Ignoring me, Naomi jotted a few things in her trusty notepad and put her blazer back on again, getting ready to call it a night.
She dismissed me for the evening, pushing a twenty into one of my hands, ordering me to be safe and take a cab, but get a receipt.
She was like that sometimes—motherly. Like she cared what happened to me. But just as quickly, she seemed to remember that she was supposed to have an edge all the time.
I took out my tablet to look up MREs. Meals ready to eat. Totally made sense now.
I headed for the exit, but just as I was leaving a voice came up behind me. “You look pretty.” I turned around. It was Henry.
Henry pushed past a couple of waiters carrying trays of desserts to get to me.
“You look pretty, too. I mean, you look good.” I blurted. My face felt hot.
“Want to get out of here?” he asked.
A few minutes later we were on the roof deck of the hotel. There appeared to be no one else there. It was just us and the view of downtown New York.
“Wow, it’s so pretty.”
“I agree,” he said, but he was looking at my profile and not at the view. I turned to face him.
Henry couldn’t possibly like me. This had to be something he did with all the girls.
I’d done my research, though, and Henry hadn’t dated anyone famous. But if Naomi was right, then I shouldn’t believe what I read about them. The band had an image they were trying to sell, and that included making every girl think that she had a chance with them.
Was I just practice? Or did he hope to get some good press out of all this?
I moved away from him and sat down on one of the fancy white lawn chairs.
“So, do you do this with all the girl reporters?” I blurted.
“Do what?” he asked, sounding innocent.
He sat down beside me, not leaving a lot of space between us.
“Talk to them, take them out on balconies …” Even I could tell I sounded ridiculous.
“No, you’re the first girl I’ve ever talked to.” He laughed.
I didn’t. His eyes softened, like he realized he’d hurt my feelings.
“I never do this with reporters,” he said firmly, looking at me in the eye. I believed him.
“Or this,” he said, wrapping his hand around mine.
“Or this,” he said, and he began to lean in.
Was Henry going to try to kiss me? I told myself to stop thinking and closed my eyes. Nothing happened. I blinked them open. The band’s manager was standing in the doorway. Her name was Marnie. She was petite and always looked really pissed off. Or maybe it was just because the first time I met her, Naomi had blackmailed her into continuing the interview sessions. “The car is here, Henry. Do we need to call you one as well, Ms. Harris?” she asked.
Henry and I began to laugh.
TWELVE
In the elevator on the way down to the cars, Henry and I kept laughing. Marnie kept shooting us looks in return, like we were being very bad children.
Henry walked me to my car and opened the door for me, but there was no leaning in. I could see Marnie standing at the door of the other car, supervising as Hu and Cam piled in.
“She’s way overprotective. We’ve gotten burned by the press before. I’ll explain to her that you’re not really the press.”
“But I am really the press. Or at least I want to be. Eventually.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “I just meant that you’re not here to tear us apart. I mean, the biggest secret we have is that we stayed out last night past curfew playing laser tag in Times Square.”
I laughed, feeling really relieved for the first time since Naomi suggested I dig for dirt on the band. There was no dirt to be found. I believed Henry. I could continue my “research” guilt-free.
Before he could close the door for me, I asked, “Can I quote you on that, Mr. Blue?”
He nodded, smiling, and shut the door.
Right away, I realized I’d left my tablet again. I told the driver to wait and went back to retrieve it.
Still on a high from almost kissing Henry, I walked back through the crowd. I could see Marnie in the crowd, too. She was looking for Liam. Maybe he and Astoria had made up after all. Maybe then he would finally be in a better mood. Maybe he was just suffering from a broken heart.
I made my way up to the roof deck. Still remembering Henry leaning in, I paused and took in the view again. But this time I realized that I wasn’t alone.
There was a couple kissing—like seriously making out. I immediately recognized Liam’s blond shock of hair.
Before I could process what I was seeing, I picked up my tablet and snapped a picture.
When Liam looked up, I hugged the tablet to my chest. He didn’t know I’d taken a photo, but he did know I’d seen him. The other guy was Connor. “Connor, go. I’ll handle this.” Liam said.
Connor opened his mouth in protest. “I met her at the bar. She’s cool.”
“She’s not cool. She’s press.”
Connor’s face fell, like I had completely betrayed him.
He turned and walked away.
I ran off in the other direction, and Liam followed.
Was this my story? My big break. My opportunity. How important was it to keep his secret? What was he going to do?
THIRTEEN
Liam did the one thing I didn’t expect. He begged.
“Please don’t tell,” he said.
“What about Astoria? Does she know?”
“Astoria and I have been friends forever. She needed to stay in the media. It was a win-win for both of us.”
“And Connor?”
“Connor and I have known each other since we were kids. We didn’t become more until right before I left for our first tour. He meets me whenever he can. He’s not a big fan of hiding out, but he understands.”
I suddenly felt very sad. Liam had absolutely everything a kid could want. Looks, money, fame. But he couldn’t go public with the person he loved.
Suddenly, it all made sense. Why he was so cagey about being around the press. Why he seemed to hate me from the very beginning. It wasn’t about me. It was about keeping his secret. And now, thanks to my stupid tablet, I knew.
“I know I haven’t exactly been nice to you. But this is why I haven’t wanted press around following me 24-7. It isn’t just me on the line. It’s the whole band. The Side Effects’ fan base is fifteen-year-old girls. What happens if one of us is no longer on the market? If I bring the band down—it’s not just my career that’s over.”
“That’s not going to happen,” I said, and I believed it. Being gay shouldn’t matter.
“Can you promise that? Can you guarantee it? It’s too big of a risk for me.” He was panicking.
He looked at me for a beat. I didn’t answer.
“But then, I guess it’s not up to me anymore. It’s up to you.”
He walked away.
I gripped the railing of the rooftop and looked down at the glittering cityscape. What was I going to do?
FOURTEEN
I didn’t sleep, and I didn’t text Naomi the picture. When I got downstairs in my dorm, Henry was waiting for me. He was wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap, but I’d know him anywhere.
Liam must have told him all about it.
“I can explain,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure I could.
I didn’t want to know about Liam. I didn’t care that he was gay, but it was still a story. How could I not tell Naomi?
“Explain what? I’m the one who should explain. I’m the stalker who found out where you live from my driver,” he said.
‘”So why are you here?” I asked.
“I thought we could eat breakfast.”
“I’m supposed to go to the office.”
“Tell Naomi you’re with me. I bet she’ll be thrilled.”
He was right. I picked up my cell and made the call. Sure enough, Naomi told me to go for it. “Get the story,” she whispered before we hung up. Little did she know—I already had one.
We walked outside. I expected to see the SUV, but it wasn’t there.
He pulled down his baseball cap a little further and grabbed my hand.
An hour-long subway ride later, we stepped onto the boardwalk at Coney Island.
“This is where you wanted to take me for breakfast?”
Anyone could recognize him here. He could be mobbed. There could be paparazzi or reporters. Technically, I was a reporter. Not that I was acting like one.
“They have the best funnel cakes in the world.”
He paid for our tickets and our funnel cakes. We people-watched and talked while eating the sugary powdered cakes that he had dragged me all the way out here to eat.
After we ate, we rode the Cyclone. He held my hand the whole time while my other hand gripped the safety bar.
After we’d ridden all the rides, we took a stroll down the boardwalk. We ate cotton candy and pretzels.
Eventually, we found ourselves back on the boardwalk, looking at the water. The summer crowd was there, but thankfully no one seemed to notice the star among them. After a while, he lost the sunglasses and I could see his big brown eyes.
“My mom used to take me for breakfast here once a year. She’d write school a note saying I was sick, and we’d spend the whole day here.”
I’d almost forgotten that New York was his hometown. When he was on stage, he seemed like he belonged to the world. But right now he seemed like a regular boy.
“Why here?”
“I was a pretty weird kid. Super serious about wanting to sing. I would ride the train into the city for auditions every week. Mom brought me here so she could remind me what it was like to be a kid and have fun.”
“When you were a kid … you’re so old now,” I teased.
“Sometimes I feel really old. But not here.”
“And now you brought me. How would Mom feel about that?”
“She’d love it. She hates the rollercoasters.”
I bit my lip, realizing something.
“Is that why you brought me here? Because I’m no fun?”
“No, of course not, Lisa …”
He drifted off, and I panicked. Was I a project? A fixer-upper or something?
“What you said the other day about working so hard to get what you want—I get that,” he said gently. “You can get where you’re going and still be a kid. Have fun. Have a life. Go to Coney Island for breakfast.”
I didn’t say anything, but I was listening. He was different than I’d thought. I guess when you see someone on a poster and on TV, you forget that they are real. I hadn’t talked this much or this way with anyone in my whole life. It didn’t get any more real than that.
I still couldn’t look at him, even though I could feel his eyes on me.
“I’m better at asking questions than at answering them,” I said simply.
“That’s okay, we don’t have to talk,” Henry said, looking out at the water.
And just like that, him saying that I didn’t have to, made me want to tell him everything. I told him about school—about not having many friends there. He told me about how he lucked out with the band, how they had become his friends and family. I felt a twinge of jealousy for that. I’d never had that. But I did have my dad, I told him. Dad, who was strong, loyal, funny, and worked night shifts so
that he could be home every day after school for dinner.
“He sounds great,” Henry said.
“My dad would never do this. I have perfect attendance.”
“No one has perfect attendance unless they’re like five.”
“Well, I do.”
“That explains a lot,” he said lightly. “I work hard, I play hard,” he added.
“That’s kind of what I was afraid of.” I let go of his hand. The spell was broken. I remembered that he was Henry Blue, famous boy-band star, not a normal boy. And while I didn’t think I was getting played, I didn’t think that this could last either. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but sometime soon, he would remember that we weren’t part of the same world. It was better to hurt a little now than a lot later.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You must have a different girl in every city,” I mumbled.
“I don’t. I could—Hu does. And Cam. But I don’t.” He sighed, disappointed.
“Why not?”
“I’ve dated a lot, but no one serious. I had a girlfriend before all this. She broke up with me because I was spending too much time with my music. So now, when I date someone, I don’t know if they’re dating me for me or for the fame. And with the schedule and everything, it’s always hard. But now …”
“Now what?”
He didn’t answer with words. He kissed me. For split second all I could think was that I was kissing Henry Blue. The Henry Blue. But seconds later I was kissing just Henry—the normal, good guy who wanted to eat funnel cakes with me at Coney Island and learn about my life.
There was more kissing on the way back to my dorm. He got a call from the manager telling him that he was late for rehearsal. When the car stopped, he kissed me again.
“I’ll text you when I’m done.”
I got out of the back of the SUV, almost dizzy from the kissing.
After I closed the door, I remembered the tablet. I opened it again.
“I think I need to get a leash for that thing.”
But Henry wasn’t smiling. He was holding the tablet in his hands, staring me down like something was very, very wrong.