by Riina Y T
I couldn’t stand it any longer. “Oh, gods, Ky. It’s all so embarrassing!” My face grew hot all over when Ky looked back up at me, a frown still wrinkling his forehead.
“Naw, I doubt it. You can tell me.” The cutest smile appeared on Ky’s plump lips as he reached across the table and placed a hand on mine. His dimpled cheeks had a faint glow to them. “Everything.” His hand squeezed mine.
“I know I should…” I slid my hand out from under his and unlocked our gaze. I took a breath and sat up straight, curling my fingers into fists before shoving them into my hoodie pockets. “And I will, because I need you to know it is all me.” I tugged the soft fabric closer to my belly, seeking comfort in my favorite piece of clothing.
My heart started racing, pounding in overtime as my palms grew sweaty the way they had that first night we stepped onto stage with two-hundred-thousand people watching our every move. I had the feeling a sold-out stadium would’ve been easier to handle than being under the scrutiny of the one person who mattered the most.
Steeling myself, I took a deep breath and went on, “Seeing you with…Gods, why is this so hard?” The truth. Tell him the truth! My focus shifted until I examined the frayed ends of the table cloth. I huffed a nervous laugh. “I’m jealous, Ky. It’s been messing with my head. I’m so damn jealous I can’t think straight!”
“What are you saying…Jealous? What are you jealous of?”
“Who, you mean, and well, basically everyone, if I’m being honest.” Biting my lip, I lifted my head and searched his face, holding his gaze as I said, “Gods, Ky. I’m jealous of that girl, Amber, you dated last spring, and I’m jealous of everyone who followed, especially that redhead, you know the guy from the coffee shop who has been flirting with you every time we stopped by.”
At first, it hadn’t bothered me so much. Ky deserved the attention and flattery. He was a friendly guy with a great personality, liked by everyone and their brother. It happened a lot; people flirted with Ky all the time. But then the new barista with the wild mop of red hair, pretty smile, and stupidly gorgeous green eyes had grown bolder and bolder until they exchanged phone numbers. It had been too much, my heart cracking open a little more.
I watched Ky cock his head to the side. “Eh, you think…” Ky ’s cheeks turned a deep shade of pink. “You think Tyson has been flirting with me? I, uh…” He turned his head away, drawing his lip between his teeth, a telltale sign he was nervous or worried about something.
No way Ky hadn’t been aware of it! Was he embarrassed I called him out on it?
“Yeah, duh. He’s been texting you for weeks, hasn’t he?” And he had, constantly. Catching glimpses of Ky staring at his phone at the most random times, his cheeks flushed and a stupid smile on his face likely triggered my resentment. I finally realized Ky would never notice the way I felt unless I outright told him; only I couldn’t. What if he laughed, thinking it was a joke? Or worse, took me serious and rejected me anyway?
The color on Ky’s cheeks rose. Aha!
“Um, yeah? Well…yeah, of course we talk,” Ky said, then added quickly, “But we’re only friends. We just…talk. Friends talk, right?”
“Hell, at this point, it doesn’t even matter if you and Tyson tell each other your deepest, darkest secrets or fuck like bunnies in the back seat of your car.” It was a lie, obviously. Avoiding confessing as much, I said, “I’m so insanely and stupidly jealous of every fan who gets to shake your hand, hugs you, or gets their picture taken with you!” I was embarrassed admitting my jealousy apparently knew no limits.
A small grin formed on Ky’s lips, but it wasn’t a mocking one. He seemed almost pleased by my ridiculous confession. Would you look at that! My heart tripped over the silly idea of Ky seeing me as anything other than a friend. What if—no, I couldn’t let myself hope. Not yet.
“No way! You’re jealous of a handshake and a hug from a stranger?” Ky teased and I couldn’t stop the grin from splitting my face.
“Jesus, yes. I’m sooo jealous.”
Ky snickered, his cheeks were bright red by now, and a stray lock of brown hair fell into his left eye. I itched to reach out and push it behind his ear. Ky’s mouth curved into a broad smile, then he laughed, and to me, it sounded like the most beautiful ballad ever written.
My heart stuttered at the stunning sight and wonderful sounds, and I knew then I’d never felt anything like it in my life. This stomach-floaty feeling of falling for someone harder with every day was new and it was all for Ky O’Sullivan.
Why was it so terrifying?
Like something too important, too big to handle?
Chapter Five
KY
Holy shit, what was happening here?
Azariah had a crush on me? How had I missed that?
And what did it mean? Did he want to go on a date with me? Kiss me? Be my boyfriend? Whoa—hold your horses, O’Sullivan!
Could it be one of those fleeting man crushes people ignored after acknowledging it in hopes it went away? But then, I was sure he wouldn’t have said anything. I had no idea Azariah was attracted to guys, at all.
Would it really have made a difference if I’d known? Maybe. Probably not though. I admit, I’d always felt drawn to Azariah but accepted a long time ago we could only be friends. With Moving Insignia’s debut, I was putting all my dreams and hopes into a band with guys I’d only known for a short time. It wouldn’t have been very smart letting myself get distracted by what could’ve easily been a fleeting romance and nothing more. Music was my life, I couldn’t go into something this important and then risk everything for the hell of a good time.
Would I go for it now, knowing Azariah liked me? It was something worth exploring. After five years together, I was confident our friendship was strong enough to withstand anything at this point. We were both mature adults and could give a relationship a try, no problem. Knowing Azariah the way I did, he wouldn’t throw everything we had away for anything less. He must’ve given this—us—a lot of thought. It would likely be all or nothing with him, and hot damn, I could see myself fall in love with Azariah so easily if I let it happen. I was getting ahead of myself, I knew, but I already loved him like family, and it was scary yet exciting to think we could be more!
“Be honest with me, Ky. Can you forgive me this easily? I’ve done and said some awful things to you.”
Azariah’s voice was low and careful, and his wary expression told me he didn’t quite trust we could get past this, which was dumb. We’d been friends for a long time, and he mattered a lot to me.
“Yes, I promise,” I insisted. I held my breath, watching Azariah closely.
“Ky, you know I didn’t mean what I said back then; you have to believe me.”
I smiled, hoping he’d believe me. “Honestly? I’m glad you didn’t mean it. Would have broken my heart if you thought so little of me. It sucked, you know? But it’s forgotten now, pinky-swear.”
“I could never mean it! You’re the most important person to me,” Azariah said, his eyes glassy. “You have to know I never want to do anything that will make you want to not be in my life, Ky. I feared I’d done exactly that with the way I behaved.” Azariah took a deep breath. He touched his neck, the way he did when he was embarrassed. A sigh. Then he added, “The last weeks have been pure torture. Christmas sucked. All I could think of was our fight. I thought I messed up big time. I was afraid you would never forgive me. Gods, it was unbearable. My uncle told me to stop moping like a loser, because I was ruining their Christmas vibes with my emo mood, and my aunt said she knew I’d fall back into depression eventually. Neither of them would have cared if I had. It still sucked being made the bad guy again.”
I thought back to two weeks ago. We’d been an hour into the meeting with our manager and a group of important people in a hotel room in West Hollywood. We’d planned to discuss the upcoming singles and the tour we’d been preparing for since September. After getting our tour cherry popped, we were all super psyched to get
to do a second headline tour again next summer and go international even. With everyone in high spirits, excited for the Christmas holidays with our families, I expected the day to be over quickly and smoothly. Needless to say, it wasn’t.
We were in the middle of going over our potential set list and I shot down two of the songs Azariah had suggested. I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings. The songs simply didn’t work with the theme we were trying to create, and I thought he’d understand since everyone else agreed with me.
Instead, Azariah hadn’t taken it so well, and out of the blue, began shouting. “Seriously, Ky? Who made you the leader? And since when are you in charge of us all? My suggestions are good; “Rockabye” and “Stardust” work fantastic with the rest. They’re a solid way to end the show.”
“Well, they’re not bad, but I don’t think they capture the right mood for the ending.”
“What about “Send Me To The Moon,” then? You want spacey robot shit? Then this should be on the list.”
“Dude, you do remember the song, right? It’s about the Wild West. It doesn’t go with what we’ve got so far. At all. Take a look at—”
“Blah, blah, blah.”
“Okay, I think we should move on. We’ve settled on the set list, haven’t we? Now, if nobody else has a problem with it, what are we going to do about the lights—”
“Seriously? Why do you get to have the last word on everything? The same spiel all the fucking time!” Azariah gave me an almost cruel expression I’d never seen on him before. “I’m so sick of this bullshit,” he added and shoved the paperwork in front of him off the table with unexpected aggression. Pens and paper clips and an empty plastic cup went flying along with the stack of printouts.
Everyone went silent, all eyes on us.
“Azariah,” I said quietly, startled by his outburst. I knew he could be harsh when something truly bothered him, but I never thought I’d be on the receiving end of his anger, not this way. We’d gotten along perfectly for years. The arguments had started a few weeks prior, but they’d always been about what kind of food we should order, what movie we should watch, and other trivial matters, with Azariah constantly shooting down my suggestions. Nothing ever to this extent.
Parker lifted his eyebrows and said, “Dude, chill out.”
And Luke, sitting to Azariah’s left, shoved him. “Yeah, you need to chill, bro. Ky’s got this.”
Azariah flipped them the finger and glared daggers at me. “No, I won’t chill the fuck out. I’ve had enough, Ky. You’re not so special! Why should you get to decide everything? Everyone always looks at you like you’re some kind of god, but you know what? You’re not. I won’t be doing this anymore,” Azariah said. “Either we all get to pick a song, or you can do your stupid tour without me.”
Stunned speechless, I watched Azariah walk out of the room and slam the door behind him. The rest of the night had been a total mess. Nobody managed to reach Azariah, and we had to abort the meeting around nine p.m. He barged into the condo the four of us shared around three in the morning, drunk off his ass. Then, he threw together a bag while waking everyone and their mother with his noise.
I confronted him in the kitchen, my heart in my throat. Not a minute had passed that night I hadn’t thought, or worried about Azariah, hoping he’d come back so we could talk about what was going on. Instead, shit hit the fan. Looking worse for wear, Azariah tried to pick another fight with me, hurling slurred insults at my head while I tried to talk him into taking a shower, hoping it would calm him. He normally didn’t get drunk or this angry, not with us—we were his friends, his family. I was out of my element, unsure how to deal with this version of my best friend. It hurt seeing him red-faced, distraught, and with tears in his eyes—tears I seemed to cause.
When I couldn’t take it any longer, I yelled back, “You know what? You can piss off with that attitude, Riah. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, and frankly, I don’t have the energy to care anymore. If you don’t get your shit together ASAP, then you don’t need to come back. You know what? You’re not so special either; we’ll manage without you.”
Wordlessly, he’d slammed the door in my face, and I’d broken down in the quiet of my room for the second time in twenty-four hours.
Thinking about it now, I realized Azariah had been giving me death glares for weeks. Every time my phone beeped with Twitter notifications and buzzed with incoming text messages, Azariah let out a groan and muttered curses to himself. There were more and more pissy comments and snarky remarks I let slide since that Halloween party in Santa Monica, after we’d all left a club together, and I’d excused myself from our group to spend a few more hours in the company of the sweet guy in a sexy SWAT costume who’d bought me drinks all night. It wasn’t often I found someone interesting enough to want to go home with them, so I didn’t think it’d be a big deal, especially not with my friends. I wasn’t the only one in the band to occasionally spend the night—or some hours in my case—with someone I’d just met.
I didn’t put one and one together then, but I did now. Azariah was obviously annoyed and upset I paid more attention to strangers than him. I wish he’d told me what went on in his head sooner. Tyson and I were only friends, like I told Azariah. Tyson had been flirting with me, and I likely gave back as good as I got. When Azariah called me out on it, I felt like he caught me doing something I shouldn’t have and couldn’t admit he was right. Which was dumb, of course, since our flirting never went anywhere. Harmless compliments from a cute guy never failed to boost your ego, right? If someone was well-meaning and honest, I totally dug the flattery.
After yet another short-lived relationship last spring, I stopped trying so hard to make a connection work. I’d have more success throwing a plastic ring at one of those rigged carnival games, knowing it’s impossible to win, while continuing to try, sure this time I’d be luckier. I’d had three serious relationships since graduating high school but have been on a lot of casual dates with both girls and guys that never developed into anything serious. I never thought of myself as a player, and despite what the blogs and teen magazines assumed, it wasn’t a word I identified with.
So, I was stunned speechless when, one night, Azariah told me, “You know what? It’s disgusting to watch you string along all those girls!” Criticism wasn’t something I expected to hear from one of my closest friends—the coolest person on this planet. “And guys!” he added with a sneer before trailing off and stomping out of the room in a fashion he’d mastered in a short time.
I probably should have realized sooner it hadn’t been something I did or said, mixed with a dash of homophobia, which fueled Azariah’s anger, but I missed all the signs of his attraction, apparently. Since he’d never had a problem with my interest in guys, I couldn’t quite believe his anger had been born from homophobia. When I’d first come out as bisexual back in high school it, thankfully, hadn’t been an issue with either my family or friends. And I was open about it from the beginning, so our fans were well-aware of it. They seemed to be cool with it. Hell, many of our songs even had bisexual written all over them.
Azariah’s voice brought me back to the present.
“Gods, I wish I could take everything back. I feel so ashamed…”
He sounded like he truly regretted his blowup. I didn’t have it in me to deny him a chance at making things right. I never could stay mad for long, especially not if the person had his heart in the right place. And there was no denying it, Azariah meant a lot to me. No matter what, he always would.
“Well, like I said, of course, I forgive you, Riah,” I told him. I held my hand up, two fingers crossed in an “I swear” sign. “I mean it. No way will you get rid of me so easily.”
“Thank you.” Azariah smiled shyly and my heart started racing. Long dark lashes and long black hair, a sinfully curved mouth, and lips like rose petals—he had it all. There’d always been a spark of attraction, but I’d quashed those feelings in favor of the band. It was the right dec
ision at the time, but perhaps now, knowing Azariah could see me as more than a friend, too, we could have a chance at something incredible.
“I didn’t realize at the time, but I pulled back from you guys, didn’t I? I ruined our vibe.”
“Yeah, something has felt off for a while. You were hiding away in your bedroom all the time too.”
“I really did mess up.”
“We all do sometimes.”
Azariah said, “I wish we could’ve spent the past two months writing songs, instead, and recording covers like when we first met.”
“Yeah, me too,” I admitted with a dip of my head. I thought back to those first few months five years ago. “Man, those were fun times. Remember the first time we covered N’Sync?”
“So bad. That was sooooo bad,” Azariah groaned. His hand found his hair, and with a flick of his fingers the hair band holding his dark waves together came off, and the curly mess fell into his face. I swallowed, licking my lips because I felt suddenly parched.
I chuckled, recalling the video we’d done for the song as well. “Yeah, glad we moved on quickly.”
We’d done countless covers back then, mostly for fun. It was all so exciting, singing to our favorite songs, uploading videos we recorded in our living room, and watching as the views went up every single day. It lacked the professionalism we have these days, but the four of us had loved every second of it. Regretfully, I realized somewhere along the line, over the last year or so, our music had become more business than pleasure. I thought I was doing my best to keep my heart beating for our band, and for the most part, my heart was still in it.
But not having written anything I was particularly fond of since sometime around spring put a strain on our album planning. We were supposed to pop out another single after the New Year, followed by enough material to fill at least two full-length albums. For a while now, I had my doubts we’d be able to achieve those goals.
I decided right then it was time to change something, to go back to making kick-ass music everyone loved.