It was hard to hear above the screaming and the music.
And that was saying a lot, since I sold out nearly every concert I performed.
The music cut, but we had to still pretend to be dancing on stage and getting the crowd riled up, but Lincoln and Pris had to deliver lines.
We waited for our cue then started up again.
And before I knew it, the scene was over.
“Again,” Jay called out to everyone. “One more time.”
Fallon
I watched in wide-eyed amazement as girls ran their hands over his rock hard body, I had to remind myself over and over again that this was his job.
But now that he’d had sex, would it translate to something else?
His hips pressed into the air and then against a girl’s hand.
My jaw nearly came unhinged when one girl started licking his wrist and then took a bite.
His eyes fluttered closed as he moved fluidly with the crowd, like they were his drug, his next hit, his voice, or the recording rose above the music as lights flashed across his perfectly sculpted face.
The entire set buzzed with electricity.
Zane, in his element, was completely and utterly unstoppable. The type of talent you see once in a lifetime and wonder how the heck he does it every day without having a nervous breakdown.
And suddenly everything he said, clicked into place.
The anxiety.
The way he’d grown up.
And the constant pressure from the very crowd that adored him, a crowd that in one instant could turn on him.
It wasn’t just a lot of pressure, it seemed impossible.
And yet, he danced with ease, he sang like he was the male version of Beyonce and owned the world.
He made me believe that if I could just touch him one time, my life would be changed.
He made me believe it.
Whatever it was.
The character he was playing? Saint? It would be easy to fall in love with him rather than Zane, the man behind it.
Because Zane was normal, Zane had normal fears, normal reactions, but Saint? He was completely untouchable.
And yet at the same time, to every woman in that room? Obtainable.
Dani’s eyes went wide when Alec and Demetri joined him in this crazy chorus dance sequence thing. “I’m pretty sure I’d kill Linc if I saw him on stage like that.”
I tried not to be offended. “Why?”
She stared at the guys then back at me then back at the guys. “Actors sell a different person. Singers sell an enhanced version of themselves. He may be Zane to you, but he will still always be Saint. Alec and Demetri are great guys, but they are still extremely… rough around the edges, in all the best ways. I adore them, I’m just saying. Singers always claim acting and performing are the same.” She shook her head. “But I beg to differ, because when Linc acts he doesn’t own the crowds, not like this, this is magic, and I can’t imagine the toll it must take mentally, to do something like this every single day.”
I didn’t trust myself to speak, at least not right away. When I did, I could barely squeeze the words out. “A lot.”
“What?” She asked.
“The toll. It’s a lot. It strips them, makes them inhuman, objects.”
She lowered her head then wrapped an arm around me. “Sorry, that was rude of me, I’m not trying to compare evils or anything here, both play pretend, but both come home. That’s the important part.”
“Home,” I repeated as memories of Zane’s words hit me in the head like a slap in the face.
I don’t have one of those.
But he did now, right? With me?
The breath backed up in my lungs. What, with me and my parents?
Seriously?
If my father saw us in bed together, Zane would end up on our wall. And my mom? Right, I can just imagine her leaving marshmallows under his pillow and buying him Lucky Charms because according to her it was the same thing.
Zane would scream blasphemy.
A fight would break out.
Nope, definitely no home there.
Was home with me?
And if it was, what did that mean?
The song ended, scaring the crap out of me as I jolted back to the present and watched in smug satisfaction as Zane hopped off stage, and strode toward me. The crowd of needy extras parted.
His muscled body swayed through the bodies of women.
And then he was pulling me into his arms, twirling me around and biting my neck with his fake teeth. “How’s that for your vampire fantasies?”
“Wow, it’s everything I ever thought it would be.”
A girl next to us fainted.
A paramedic was called.
“Hmm, too much?” he whispered in my ear.
“Clearly.”
He grabbed my hand and tugged me through the gathering crowd around the paramedics, through long lines of costumes, and finally to the back of the loud, dark room.
In two seconds, my hands were on his jeans ripping them down to his knees while he lifted my skirt above my hips.
This was getting ridiculous.
We were in public.
His blue and white eyes looked crazed, as his hands shook against my skin.
“Need you.” His voice was no longer commanding, but a soft whimper.
“Where are your marshmallows?” I asked in a trembling voice.
His tongue snuck out across my neck as he whispered, “I replaced them with something sweeter.”
He placed his hand against the wall above my head just as I reached for him.
Our bodies joined.
And somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered.
If he’d just traded one addiction to another.
But not really dealt with the underlying issue.
The need to feel safe.
Zane
I had a headache.
That was the first thing I thought when I jumped off stage and made my way through the crowd.
The second thing?
I didn’t want a marshmallow.
Stupid that my thoughts came in that order, but my normally twitchy sweaty fingers didn’t shove themselves into my jeans pocket in search of comfort.
My eyes searched for her.
But the crowd was stifling, nearly impossible to get through, and I knew I needed to kiss her, if I could just kiss her, the headache would go away, the nightmare would stop, and we’d celebrate recording the last two songs of the album.
Together.
After one kiss.
Okay, maybe two.
But the minute I touched her, spoke to her, bit her neck, I needed more, wanted more, the screams were making it worse, the heat.
In an effort to get her away from everything.
I’d pinned her to the wall.
And just as I opened my mouth to confess — the headache, the possible meaning behind it — she pulled my jeans down.
I should have pushed her away, confessed before I gave her one more piece of myself, before I took another from her, instead I let it happen.
Because I told myself that maybe, being with her, would make it go away, the stress, the pounding.
But four hours later, while in the studio, it was almost impossible to stare at the piano keys without my vision going blurry.
“Everything okay in there?” Will said through the com.
“Yup,” I lied. “Just tired.”
“I know, let’s just lay this track and you can finish tomorrow.”
“Right.” I swallowed the fear in my throat and rushed through the song, putting as much of myself into it as I could before my shaking hands braced the piano bench in an effort to steady myself.
“Perfect.” Will walked in and gave a slow clap of approval. “Now, one more track, and you’re done. How’s it feel?”
I saw two of him.
It was just a migraine.
Never mind that I’d only had two in my life.
One after the concussion.
And now.
“I think,” I whispered as fear snaked around my throat. “That you need to take me to the hospital.”
Will’s smile froze. “Zane? What’s wrong?”
“My head.” I tried to stand, bracing myself against the piano for balance. “I have a headache.”
“Shit.” Will hoisted me to my feet with one arm and then immediately got on the phone.
“No.” I shook my head. “No ambulance, it’s fine it’s—”
My vision blurred again.
“Yes, I need an ambulance sent to C Street Studio one-twenty-eight. Possible migraine, yes he’s at high risk for an aneurysm… No, I’m not sure, he hasn’t seen his specialist in six months. Was supposed to be on watch… no, no, no. Zane, can you remember your birthday?”
I glared at both Will and Will. “I’m dizzy, not stupid.”
“Yeah, he’s coherent.” Will rolled his eyes.
The sound of sirens blared in the distance as we slowly walked outside the studio.
And came face to face with about one hundred reporters.
All with newspapers being shoved in my face. “Zane Saint Andrews gives up virginity to local girl.”
It took a while to read.
But once I did.
I lost my shit.
And tried to charge the crowd, only realizing that my legs wouldn’t cooperate as a cold sweat ran down my arms.
“Zane!” Will yelled as the sound of sirens closed in. “Zane! Stay with me man, stay with me.”
It was the last thing I heard before a numbing sensation took over and my entire life went black.
Fallon
I paced the floor of the penthouse suite and tried desperately not to clean up. I mean I only worked five hours that week, but it still felt habitual, to clean up the rooms rather than stay in them.
Finally, out of boredom, I started folding the towels and then sat and turned on the TV.
Zane still wasn’t back.
And I probably needed to go to my own house, the whole I’m staying over with Mags probably wasn’t going to work every night this week, though I was going to at least try to sneak in one more night — the night he finished recording.
I looked down at my phone and sighed.
Fallon: Hey, how’s the song going?
Nothing.
I texted again an hour later.
Maybe he was just in the zone. He was an artist, I could understand how he would be in a creative process that he didn’t want to jinx.
The eleven o’clock news turned on.
“Breaking story out of Seaside Oregon, it seems like vesting celebrity Saint, has been rushed to the hospital for exhaustion, this was shortly after being approached by media about reports referencing his virginity and a certain local girl, Fallon Miller. No details have been released yet by his team, but we hope everything is okay.”
Stunned. I blinked at the TV screen, tears pooling in my eyes.
Had Mags said something?
My phone rang.
“It wasn’t me! I swear I would never say anything!” Mags sobbed into the phone. “I swear, I love you guys I would never—”
“He’s in the hospital,” I whispered hoarsely. “Is he okay? Has the news said anything else?”
She paused. “You weren’t with him?”
“NO!” I yelled, getting more and more terrified by the minute. “I was at the penthouse waiting for him.”
“Then go!”
“Go.” I mimicked. “Right. I need to.” This was not the time to hyperventilate. I needed to go to him. To see if he was okay. To explain it wasn’t me, to tell him how I felt about him. I needed to go.
“Hospital.” I choked out. “I’m going to the hospital.”
“I’ll meet you there.” The phone went dead.
How would I even get past security? For all I knew, he hated me right now. His whole team probably hated me.
I jerked open the door to the penthouse and came face to face with Jaymeson.
“I warned you.” He took a menacing step inside, his normal happy demeanor completely void of any sort of positive energy. “I told you what I would do if you hurt him.”
“Jaymeson!” Wet tears streamed down my face. “I swear, I didn’t say anything! I would never go to the media, he’s more than just my friend I-l—”
“Don’t.” He yelled his British accent suddenly more terrifying than endearing. “Don’t say you love him, you don’t even know him!”
“He told me!” I swallowed back thick tears. “Everything! I know him, okay? I KNOW HIM!”
“No.” Jaymeson’s voice softened. “You know what he allows you to know.”
My heart twisted in my chest as Alec and Demetri wandered into the room, both of their expressions sad.
“Whatever.” I tried shoving past Jaymeson. “I’m going to the hospital.”
“The hell you are!” Jaymeson was back to yelling, this time reaching for my arm just before Demetri stepped between us.
His cool blue eyes met mine. “I’ll take her.”
“She did this to him!” Jaymeson lunged for me again.
“Did what!” I sobbed. “I don’t even know what’s going on, just that he’s being treated for exhaustion.”
“He could be dead.” The fight left Jaymeson, the anger. I wanted it back, all of it, because at least then I knew everything would be okay, but hearing those words, from him, in such a defeated way, chilled me, only to break me into tiny little unrecognizable pieces as my stomach dropped with fear.
“You’re lying.”
“He’s not.” Demetri wrapped an arm around me. “Come on, I’ll take you, none of us know anything yet, but Will wanted you out of the penthouse since people have been camped out at your house all day.”
And suddenly I was just like Zane.
Homeless.
Lost.
Afraid.
I needed to talk to him, to explain to him that I cared for him, that I would never betray him — but it seemed it was more about my own guilt at what happened because apparently the only boy I ever wanted to sleep with ever again — was fighting for his life.
And had failed to tell me why.
Zane
I was numb.
I felt numb.
Maybe it was emotional numbness, like when news hits you so hard you have no choice but to deny the fact that you have feelings — I wish.
“Here,” Will tossed me a bag of marshmallows.
“No thanks.” I grumbled shoving them off the bed and onto the floor, they reminded me of her, of the pain I felt at finding out that she wasn’t who I thought she was.
I’d given her everything.
Except for one thing — the one thing that could potentially hurt her, hurt us.
I refused to feel guilty for keeping one secret.
The pounding in my head had died down the minute they gave me an IV of fluids, but it was still there.
As was the fear that this was something bigger.
Something I couldn’t control.
“We’ll get news soon,” Will said in a hollow voice. “It’s going to be fine, Zane. You can afford the best doctors in the world, it’s not like this is the end, it’s probably just exhaustion.”
“Great. I’m one of those. My relationship is getting splashed all over the world, #virginwatch is a trending topic along with #saintorsinner and we’re sitting in a freaking hospital room talking about a possible aneurysm that could literally tear and kill me at any given second, and exhaustion is what we tell people.”
“Would you rather tell them the truth?”
“The truth,” I whispered, “Sucks.”
“This is the part where I tell you, you should have come clean.”
I burst out laughing. It was ugly, not my usual laugh. It felt wrong. I didn’t laugh like that, not me. “So, open up my soul to the one girl capable of stealing it? Hand over my heart to the only one who can both keep an
d break it?”
Will’s eyes widened.
I frowned when he stood, grabbed my guitar, handed it to me, and walked out of the room.
My hands shook as I slowly started strumming a few different chords and paired them with the words I’d just said to my agent.
It wasn’t a ballad.
It wasn’t a love song.
It was ugly.
It was truth.
Some of the prettiest songs are lies — the real ones, never get Grammys, never hit the Billboard number one spot, because they cause too much self-reflection.
And nobody wants to admit to the ugly.
Nobody.
But I did.
I’d admit it.
I’d confess how dark my past was, I’d confess how she brought me into a light I didn’t see possible, how the pleasure with her went beyond anything I’d ever experienced — surpassing my wildest imaginations.
The first verse would be the pain.
The second verse would be the cure.
The third would be the repercussions of trusting in imperfection to make you feel whole.
Because that’s what life was about.
Trusting the wrong things — in order to lead you down the path to the right things.
My head still throbbed, but as my hands plucked the strings, as I wrote down different lyrics.
I felt a bit freer.
A bit happier.
Even if my heart was still breaking.
Because I’d given her everything — right?
“Hey,” Jay’s voice interrupted the last chorus as he knocked on the already open door then let himself in. “Any reason the nurses outside are all sobbing like you just had a puppy sacrifice in this room? Because I can come back if this is a bad time.”
“Puppy sacrifice.” I grinned. “There’s a thought. Think we can roast mallows?”
“Too far.” Jay grimaced.
“Says the one with a wild enough imagination to come up with heathen sacrifices of small dogs.”
He grinned and took a seat. “So, not dead yet?”
“Not yet.”
“I yelled at her,” he confessed. “I told her she couldn’t visit you.”
My heart didn’t know how to take that. I think in that moment it was so confused and upset that it simply just went to sleep for a bit, its slow rhythm reminding me that blood was still pumping, but that a part of it, wasn’t so sure it wanted to keep up the charade.
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