Nineteen.
Bryan Denton was pacing back and forth, and the band was a little bit nervous. He'd been, for the most part, a very kind and patient manager; he genuinely seemed to care about them and their success. But when Chris was rushed to the hospital, he seemed to lose a little of his cool; now, hours later and with Chris safely back in the hotel room (albeit with a bandage and ice on his badly sprained ankle) he was definitely not in a good mood.
"How's your ankle?" CJ asked charitably.
"Numb," Chris answered. "They said I shouldn't dance for a few days… I have crutches."
"So what are we going to do about our shows for the next few days?" Richard asked.
Denton turned sharply as he paced, now facing the band. "Well, if Chris can't dance, we can't really perform, can we?"
"I can still sing," Chris said guiltily.
"But the show is the image, and the image is dancing. Besides, you get better press for bravely recovering than for putting on a half-assed show."
"Sorry," Chris muttered. "I didn't mean to get hurt."
"And if wishes were horses, beggars would ride," Denton answered.
"What?"
"The point is, something has been wrong for awhile now," he continued. "And don't tell me it hasn't, because I know you boys. I had hoped you'd be mature enough to sort it out amongst yourselves without me having to get involved, but apparently, that's asking a little too much." He glowered.
"Hey, come on—" Richard started, but Denton cut him off.
"I don't know what happened. I have a pretty good idea, but honestly, I don't want to know. What you boys need to do is fix it. You've been fighting and you've been distracted, you haven't given one hundred percent to this tour—and that's unacceptable. It's showed all along, if anyone bothered to look; now that you're hurt, they will be looking. You can't afford to let your personal lives distract you on stage. You should know that, Chris."
"I do know!" Chris protested. "I miss-stepped. It's the same place I've always had trouble, I just can't get it right. I'm sorry."
"You can't get it right? Or you don't care enough to get it right? And now you being sloppy isn't just hurting the show, now you're actually hurt. You boys will find a way to fix this."
"It's not that easy," Alejandro said.
"I didn't say it would be, but it has to get done. Chris is hurt and I just canceled three shows. That is unacceptable. When you hired me, I said I expected you to give your all; that hasn't changed. Fix this."
There was a moment of silence, and finally Alejandro nodded. "Okay," he said. "I'll fix it."
"What?" Chris asked. "…How?"
Alejandro shrugged. "I'll do what I have to."
"What does that mean?"
"I'm not sure yet," he said, and looked at Denton. "I'll get it fixed."
"Good. Chris…" Denton trailed off and sighed. "Don't screw up again, okay? We need you."
"Yeah, thanks for that advice."
"That's what you pay me for." He glanced at the band. "I've got some phone calls to make; rebooking these shows, working out refunds, all of that. I'll be in my own room if you need me."
The band nodded and Denton let himself out, leaving them to talk among themselves.
"So…" CJ said. "You gonna be okay, Chris?"
Chris shrugged. "My ankle will be fine. At least it didn't break."
Alejandro let out a deep breath and stared up at the ceiling. "Don't worry," he said finally. "Everything will be fine."
"Alejandro…?" Chris asked, but Alejandro didn't answer him, just stared thoughtfully at nothing in particular.
When no one actually spoke, the band seemed almost to get along again. They were sitting around the hotel suite's common room, watching a movie on PayPerView. Even after two days, Chris still had his ankle elevated and was icing it, not so much because he thought it still needed it as he just didn't know what else to do. CJ and Nick were sharing a large bag of popcorn on the couch, occasionally ignoring the movie to gossip about CJ's latest date disaster—he hadn't been stood up, but she did disappear after the appetizer.
Richard was engrossed by the movie, which was fairly plotless but did feature a girl wearing a skimpy, torn dress as things blew up in the background. That was really all he required.
Chris watched the movie a little, but mostly he was glancing around the room at his friends and Alejandro, as depressing as it was that he couldn't put them in the same category anymore. Of the five, Alejandro was the only one who didn't at least make a pretense of watching; he was sitting over by himself at the side of the room, hunched over a thick textbook and writing something.
"Be right back," CJ said, and handed the popcorn bowl to Nick, who shrugged and tried to pay attention to the movie—but girls in skimpy, torn dresses did nothing for him, and he spent most of the time he watched rolling his eyes and compiling a mental list of plot holes.
CJ returned a few minutes later and paused at the side of the room, looking over Alejandro's shoulder. "Whatcha working on? Planning to take over Boogie like you did Pulitzer?"
Alejandro shrugged. "Nothing important," he said.
"Yeah?" CJ glanced down again, then frowned. "What the…" He paused. "What are you hiding in the textbook? Love letters?"
"Not quite." Alejandro laughed, but everyone could tell it was fake.
CJ reached down to pick up the piece of paper Alejandro was writing on, and Alejandro jerked it away and slammed the textbook shut.
"Okay, jeez, be that way," CJ sulked. "That's what a guy gets for taking an—" he reached down and snatched up the textbook, "—interest, ha!"
"CJ, don't—"
CJ pulled the papers out of the book and gaped, then turned to stare at Alejandro. "Were you planning on telling the rest of us about these?" he asked.
"Yes, if you'd given me a chance to," Alejandro said quietly.
"What?" Nick called. "Come on, spill."
CJ ruffled through the papers. "Application for undergraduate admission to, let's see… Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Columbia, Cornell… You do aim high, don't you, Alejandro?"
Alejandro shrugged.
"So you were planning on commuting an awfully long way to school every day, or what?"
Alejandro sighed. "I told Denton I'd fix things," he said. "This is how. And it's not like it was a secret—I had always planned to go to college, always. I was just… waiting for a good time to explain."
"Wait, you're quitting the band?" Nick asked. "You—you can't just quit."
"My contract is up at the end of the year," Alejandro said. "And this is… It's the only thing I can do. You'll be better off."
"With no bass singer? How!"
"You'll find someone new. I just can't…" He looked helplessly at Chris. "Something has to change to make things here good again. And Chris and I… We can't be around each other. You all know that's true. So I'll go."
"Don't be a moron," Richard said. "Things between you two will get better."
"No, they won't," Alejandro said. "And if you don't understand, I'm sorry. But this is what I have to do for the band—and it's what I always wanted. It's what I worked for my whole life."
"But you can't just… leave," Richard said. "I mean—you can't just walk away from everything we've all done together. You can't."
"I have to. I'm sorry."
"But—"
"Am I wrong?" Alejandro asked. "I was going to tell you; I didn't want you to find out like this. But he and I can not work together. Now he's hurt. It's going to get worse if one of us doesn't get out. You know I'm not wrong about that."
No one said anything for a minute, and CJ handed the book and the applications back to Alejandro. "It could get better," he said. "You don't know."
"I'm pretty sure."
"He's right," Chris said softly, sounding choked. "I know I can't… Keep this up."
"I'm sorry," Alejandro said again.
"But you never asked me," Chris said. "One of us needs to go… You never asked me."
"Chris, be real. You love this—you live for it. I'd never ask you to give it up. Besides, the band can recover from losing me. But you… You're Chris Ivers." He shrugged. "I wish I didn't have to go."
"So stay," CJ said.
"I can't. It's just too complicated—and it's ruining everything."
"But…" Nick frowned, which was something he didn't do very often. "Why can't you two just… I mean… You shouldn't have to leave. We need you here, we want you here. Please, you can't just leave us."
"If you think of any other option, I'd do it. But this is all there is."
"Do you have to decide now?" Richard asked. "I mean… How do you even know you'll get in to any of those schools?"
"I… Weren't you the one who said that I'd have the money to pay for it and an entrance essay no one else could match?"
"Well, yeah, but… You don't have to decide now. Maybe something will come up. And if you leave now, how will we finish the tour?"
"Of course I'll finish the tour," Alejandro said. "And you'll have enough time after to find a new bass singer."
"But no one else would be… you," Nick said. "I mean… won't you just think about it? Please?"
"Think about what?"
"Staying," CJ said. "Think about staying, seriously think about it. Things with you and Chris will get better, they might hurt now, but they'll get better."
Everyone stared at Alejandro, who sighed. "I'll think about it," he agreed. "But if things stay like this…"
"Okay, good," CJ said. "Just think about it, that's all we ask. Jeez, when Denton said to fix things I promise he didn't mean by quitting." He shook his head. "I think you're not as smart as we all thought."
Alejandro shrugged. "I'm smart enough to know when to bow out. I'm smart enough to know what's best for…" he looked at Chris, but said, "the band."
"So were they bringing us our coffee or what?" Chris muttered.
"So are you bitchy or what?" Nick asked.
Chris rolled his eyes. "Well, I would go get my own coffee, but I'm only allowed off my crutches for the duration of the show."
"That and you wouldn't make it out of the coffee shop alive," Richard mused. "Or clothed."
"What does that mean!"
"Well, not that you would strip in the coffee shop, more that our insane fans who are waiting for the show would freak out and tear your clothes off."
"He'd enjoy it," Nick said.
"I would not," Chris squawked. "Anyway, they're all in line; it's their middle aged mothers."
"I could see middle aged mothers attacking you," Richard said. "It's kind of an amusing image."
"Please stop picturing me naked now."
"Chris, babe, I've seen…" He glanced at Alejandro suddenly, and Alejandro rolled his eyes and shrugged. "…I've seen you naked. It's not quite as impressive as you probably would like to think."
"Hey!"
"So do we have coffee, or what?" Alejandro asked. "I mean… I'm fine, but Chris without caffeine is never a pretty sight."
"So you're calling me ugly?"
"No, I'm calling you a caffeine addict, you egomaniac."
"Why is everyone mean to me?" he sulked. "Crutches! Feel bad for me!"
CJ rolled his eyes. "For the love of… I'll go get our coffee; the middle aged mothers don't recognize me."
Chris batted his eyelashes. "I love you, CJ."
CJ shook his head. "I swear, at this point I've dated all of Nick's friends except you." He groaned. "I am never, ever, ever going to meet someone."
"CJ, coffeeeeeeeee."
"Will someone please strangle him while I'm gone?"
"Gladly," Richard said.
CJ pulled on his coat and pulled the collar up, put on a hat and pulled it down to shadow his face. He was the least recognizable member of the band, but all the same, he was fairly famous and wanted to avoid as much shrieking and potential clothes ripping as possible.
Not that anyone really wanted to rip his clothes off. They really just wanted to get backstage to meet the real stars. It was actually a little depressing.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, made sure he had his wallet, and started for the coffee shop. It was around the corner from their venue, and he took a back exit out which left him right by the door. It was crowded and it was a lot of middle aged mothers, much to his amusement; there were a few teenage girls, but he hoped they'd be on the lookout for Chris and Rich, not him.
He let himself in and got in line, which was rather long, and a minute later someone walked up behind him, talking on his cellphone, and knocked in to him. He was shoved forward against the girl in front of him. "Watch it!" he snapped to the guy on the phone, who was too engrossed with his conversation to notice, and turned to the girl ahead of him. "Sorry," he said.
"No problem," she answered. "I hate jackasses like that."
"Yeah, me too." He smiled a little, mostly thankful that she hadn't shrieked when she caught sight of his face.
"I guess it's crowded because of that concert." She half-laughed and pushed a strand of dark hair out of her face. CJ glanced at her eyes and caught himself before he started staring; they were very, very green.
"Yeah?"
She shrugged. "I don't know, my little sister is really into boybands. I can't really tell one from another, though."
He laughed. "Are you here with your sister?"
"No, my mom is, but I needed the car tonight so I dropped them off. Why, are you here with… someone for the concert?"
"Something like that." He held out his hand. "CJ."
"Alison." She shook his hand and her skin felt quite smooth.
"Uh…" CJ said. "So, um, would you think I was a freak if I offered to buy your cup of coffee?"
"Well, I might let you if you threw in a muffin with it."
"Deal," he said. "Nice to meet you."
"Jeez, CJ, what took you so long to get back with the coffee?" Chris demanded. "And… where is the coffee?"
"What?" CJ asked, then blushed a little. "Sorry, I… got distracted. Forgot to get it." He held up his hand, and a phone number was scrawled across it. "Nick, I don't think I'm going to need you to set me up again. Hopefully."
The nice thing about playing in New York was that there was always an after party. Every club in the city clamored to have the boys drop by, and it was free drinks all night when they chose to. And, despite the presence of Chris's crutches, the New York nightlife was too appealing to pass up.
The club was loud, but at least the VIP room wasn't all that crowded. Alejandro could see the rest of the band easily from his perch at the back of the room. CJ was fidgeting a great deal, pestering Nick. When Nick finally looked fed up, CJ hopped across the room to Alejandro. "Nick says I can't call yet but I think he's wrong. I mean, I don't want to call late and wake her up, right?"
"I… I don't know? This is Nick's whole area of expertise."
"Yeah, but he says not to call!"
"And you want to call?"
"Yes!"
"Then… call?"
"But what if I look desperate?"
"You'll look like you sound?"
"Man, you got mean. I'm not desperate, she's just awesome."
"You talked to her for ten minutes."
"And she didn't know who I was! Isn't that great!"
Alejandro blinked. "Sure," he said.
"She didn't hit on me because I'm in the band, she didn't ask me if I could get her backstage, she didn't ask me for Chris's number, she just talked to me like I was a normal person or something."
"Boy, will she get over that when she gets to know you."
"Oh, you're just hilarious, Alejandro, I mean that. Should I call her or what?"
"I don't know? Go ask Richard."
"You suck and are no help. Fine. I will."
CJ hopped off.
Alejandro sighed and found a table to sit at. It was nice to see CJ so excited about a girl; he'd been growing more and more bitter lately. And he was a lot more fun when he was dancing all over the place than when he was moping.
Nick had returned to getting his groove on on the dance floor, and now CJ was pestering Richard, who was being good and drinking a bottle of water instead of a beer. That was a relief; at least Richard had been honest about kicking the alcohol habit. Unlike Chris, who had been downing shots with a group of hangers on since they'd arrived, and now looked like he was having trouble staying upright, even when sitting on a couch at the edge of the room.
Some girl was hanging on him, Alejandro noted, annoyed. He knew it was none of his business how much Chris drank or who Chris hooked up with, but the girl would not stop touching him. It was a little disgusting, really; she was feeling him up, and he was too drunk to even return the favor, let alone stop her.
Alejandro looked around to see if any of the rest of the band had spotted this, but none of them were paying attention. Nick had found a cute blond to dance with; Ryan wasn't there, but Nick still liked dancing. And Richard and CJ were having a very animated discussion. CJ was practically jumping up and down.
He sighed. Taking care of Chris wasn't supposed to be his job anymore, but someone had to make sure Chris didn't do anything stupider than normal. He began to drift towards Chris as subtly as he could manage, not wanting to look like he cared too much. Since he knew he shouldn't care. He just… couldn't help it. No matter how much he tried to make himself stay away from Chris, he couldn't bring himself to stop caring, and to stop liking Chris. And if only he really felt he could trust Chris again, he'd have let his pride go, and let the anger go, and gone for it… But he didn't want to get hurt again. And Chris couldn't help but hurt him.
Like Shawna said. Chris was the center of his own little world, and maybe he really didn't understand what would hurt someone else. He just didn't understand the concept of other people.
Chris didn't notice him getting closer, and he took a position down the wall from Chris, far enough that he didn't look like he was paying attention, but close enough to overhear if he concentrated.
"So, how's your ankle?" the girl asked.
"Sore… Real bruised," Chris said. "I can't… use crutches when I… I can't stand."
Alejandro rolled his eyes. Chris was too drunk to walk; Chris was certainly too drunk to walk with crutches. Brilliant.
"I can help you walk, baby," she cooed. "You want to go somewhere? You want another drink?"
"Water," he said.
"Oh, don't be silly, water? The night is young! I'll go get you another drink."
"I think I… I had enough…" he said.
"I'll be right back." She kissed him, though he didn't respond. "Don't go anywhere."
Chris let his head loll back against the couch. Alejandro wanted to strangle whoever this girl was, particularly when she returned with another mixed drink. "Here," she said. "Drink this."
He nodded and took a sip, then shook his head and tried to hand it back, but she wouldn't take it. "I'm gonna puke," he said, and added, "Water."
"Oh, come on," she said. "I thought you liked partying."
"'M partied out."
"Nah, that can't be right." She crawled on to his lap and turned to face him. "Everyone says you like to party."
Alejandro clenched a fist as she kissed Chris again, pinning him to the couch.
Chris pulled away as far as he could, turning his head away from her. "No," he said. "I wanna go… Sleep…"
"You can go sleep, Chris," she said. "I'll take you back to my place, you can get as much sleep there as you want."
"No," he said again.
"But, Chris, don't you want to spend more time with me?" she purred. "Don't you think I'm attractive?"
"Yeah," he said, and she looked triumphant. Alejandro glowered; Chris had been doing so well at resisting her, but on the other hand, he was so drunk he probably didn't know what he was doing. He might not even know who she was—Alejandro certainly had no idea. All he knew was that Chris was going to leave with some floozy, probably puke in her apartment, and wake up with no idea where he was.
Which meant someone should step in and stop it. But Alejandro couldn't bring himself to move as the girl ran her hands down Chris's chest. He didn't know if he was really trying to protect Chris, or if he was just jealous. And Chris was an adult—kind of—who should be able to take care of himself.
Though that had always been asking a little too much. Chris could barely tie his own tie.
The girl stood up and took Chris's arms to try and pull him to his feet. He stood for a moment, floundered, and fell back on to the couch, grimacing. "My ankle," he said.
"Oh, come on." She stamped her foot, frustrated. Alejandro smirked. "Do you want to go home with me or not, Chris?"
"No," Chris said.
"What!"
"I… I can't," he said.
"I'll take care of your ankle."
"I won't," he said. "'Cause… I… Alejandro's gonna leave, an' it's my fault."
"So, don't worry about him. I'm sure he can find someone for himself."
"No!" Chris said again. "He's not like that an' I'd be happy if he found someone. 'Cause he should be happy." She tried to pull Chris up again, and he pulled away. "I don't wanna hurt Alejandro," he said. "I'm sorry. I can't… You should go."
"You are such a…" She trailed off, glaring at him. "And people say you like to have fun."
She turned and stomped off, not exactly steady herself, and Alejandro stared at Chris thoughtfully.
It wasn't as though he could suddenly trust Chris. He was drunk, it probably hadn't meant anything. He probably had just not wanted her and was using him as some sort of excuse.
Except that the last time he'd been drunk, he hadn't said no. He hadn't thought of Alejandro at all. And this was different.
"Hey, sailor."
Alejandro spun around to see one of the other guys who'd been admitted to the VIP room behind him, wearing a painfully tight shirt and jeans.
"Hi?"
"You look a little lonely."
"I'm fine," Alejandro said.
"You sure about that? Why settle for fine when you could have fun?" The guy grinned and Alejandro was a little bit taken in, he had to admit. It wasn't often that he got hit on, and even less often that he got hit on by members of a gender he actually liked.
"I dunno, I'm kind of… not really looking for anyone right now." He shrugged.
"That's too bad." The guy smiled again. "I really like your voice. I have a thing about bassists. And I don't care what anyone says—you're the hot one."
Alejandro hesitated, a little flustered. "Well, thank you. But I think you're looking for Nick… or Rich…"
"No, I'm pretty sure I'm not." The guy put an arm around him; it was casual, but it had been a long time since Alejandro had been in anyone's arms. "Can I at least talk you into a dance? I mean, I've seen you dance."
"That's all… choreographed," Alejandro said, as he allowed himself to be steered towards the dance floor.
"So what? You've got rhythm, I can tell. Besides, I want to be able to tell everyone that I danced with the hot member of the V-Tones."
"I'm really... not…" Alejandro sighed.
"One dance," the guy said. "And if that's all you're up for, I promise to stop bugging you. Of course, if you want more…"
"Okay," Alejandro said. "I guess. I could do one dance."
The guy beamed at him. "Thanks. For a minute, I was afraid you might be straight or something."
"In this business? Are you kidding me?" Alejandro laughed. But it was bittersweet; he couldn't help but remember how Chris and Richard had convinced him he could join the band despite being gay. After all, they were both bi…
As the heavy bass pounded around them, he felt the man's hand on his waist and it didn't feel bad, exactly, just foreign. And the song had good rhythm, and before he really knew what he was doing, he was enjoying himself. He hadn't ever really just danced with someone.
"See, I said it wouldn't be so bad," the guy laughed.
"Yeah, it's kind of… fun…"
But as they turned a little a gap opened up through the dance floor, and he could see Chris, still sitting on the couch. Chris was watching him, transfixed, but the look on his face…
Chris hadn't wanted to hurt him. He knew that going home with someone else would hurt Alejandro, and so he hadn't.
Alejandro stepped back from his dance partner. "I'm sorry," he said. "It was fun, I just… can't…" He glanced around. "There's Richard. He's single and loves dancing. Promise."
Before the man had a chance to respond, Alejandro fled, casting another glance at Chris, who was still staring at him. He felt awful; he hadn't meant to have Chris notice him, he didn't want to hurt Chris. He really hadn't meant to…
He stopped at the bar and picked up a bottle of water, and hurried over to the couch. He sat on the end opposite Chris, not looking over at him. "Here," he said, holding out the water. "I thought maybe you could use this."
"Thanks," Chris said, accepting it from him. "That guy was hot."
"Yeah," Alejandro said.
"Why didn't you… He was into you."
"I know," Alejandro said. "But I just… I'm not that kind of guy."
"All kinds of guys dance, Alejandro."
"You didn't care?" he asked.
"'Course I cared. But I want you to… be happy," Chris mumbled.
"He wouldn't have made me happy," Alejandro said. "Drink your water before I change my mind."
"Change it about what?"
Alejandro didn't answer aloud, but he glanced over at Chris, and groped for his hand in the dim light. Chris stared at him, then smiled, and drank his water.
"If you ever hurt me again, I'll kill you," Alejandro added.
"I won't," Chris said. "Ever. Promise."
Alison was pretty sure that if she heard another word about the V-Tones, she was going to strangle her sister. And her mother. She hadn't expected it from her mother, who had only gone as a chaperone and thought the whole thing was ridiculous, but apparently the band members were just so darling that her mother now loved them as much as her sister. At least, so Alison assumed by the armloads of merchandise they dropped in the car, which she was pretty sure wasn't all for her sister.
"So what did you do while we were at the concert?" her mom asked.
"I went to the library, like I said. And did my homework." She rolled her eyes. "And I kind of met a guy at the coffee shop, but I doubt he'll actually call me."
"Well, we had just about the best night ever. I'm so relieved they didn't cancel the show!" her mother said. "And that Richard is just adorable."
"Mom, Chris is the hot one," her sister said.
"Well, I don't think his hair is really that blond. Does he dye it?"
"No! Mom!"
"No one is that blond," her mother said, as they clamored out of the car and into their apartment. Alison sighed a little and helped them gather up the posters and CDs and t-shirts, amazed her mother had actually spent so much money on some boyband.
She deposited the stuff on the dining room table once they were inside, and her sister began pouring through it. "I wish I had his autograph," she said, and unrolled a poster. "See, Alison? Isn't he hot?"
She looked at the poster, a picture of the band dancing with smaller shots of each member individually at the bottom. They were all labeled with their names—as though their fangirls didn't already know their names, birthdays, and favorite colors.
"Which one?" Alison asked.
"Chris, duh!" her sister said, pointing at the platinum blond in the forefront.
"I guess," Alison said, glancing down at the single shots. She recognized Chris from the TV and magazine covers, and one of the others, too—Richard, apparently. The other three seemed to be less popular and she couldn't have picked them out of a lineup.
"Do…" she squinted at the names, "Nick, Alejandro and CJ have any fans?"
"Only weird ones." Her sister rolled her eyes.
"Okay," Alison said, and started to walk towards her room, then stopped abruptly. The phone was ringing, but she ignored it and stared back at the poster.
CJ. His name was CJ and he was right next to the concert, and he was half-Asian and had spiky, dyed hair.
She looked down at the number written across her hand in black pen. It couldn't be… That was ridiculous. And if it was… Oh, god. She realized she must have sounded like a moron, not knowing who he was, saying that she didn't even know who the band was…
Her mother picked up the phone. "Alison?" she called. "It's for you, dear."
"Who is it?"
There was a pause, then, "He says he met you in the coffee shop."
She stared at the poster. "Oh, god," she said. "I'll be… right… there." She took a deep breath, walked over to the phone and took it into her room. "Hello?"
"Alison? It's CJ…"
"Hi," she said. "So, it was nice of you to tell me you're, you know, in the band, so I don't feel at all stupid now."
"You don't understand!" he said. "It was so… I mean, do you know when the last time I got to flirt with a cute girl was?"
"Well, all the time, I would think."
"Ha! If only! No, seriously, I have the worst luck with meeting people, and it always goes horribly and actually meeting someone nice who actually seemed to want to talk to me and didn't even bring up Chris was, like… wow."
"Well, maybe if I'd known who he was…"
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to… like, embarrass you or anything. I just… Kind of was hoping to get to know you a little before you found out."
"Oh," she said. "Well… Okay… I guess that's reasonable. My sister would freak, you know. And my mom is about to start a Richard whatever his name is fanclub. That's embarrassing, she's forty!"
CJ laughed. "That's so not the most embarrassing thing we've seen. There was this woman—like, probably at least fifty—who threw her shirt at Richard."
"Wow, that's…"
"Yeah."
"So with all those shirtless mothers around all the time," she mused, "why on earth would a famous guy like you want to flirt with a normal girl like me?"
"Well," he said. "You were cute… And nice… And didn't shriek in my ear. That's a big part of it."
"Should I pass on this advice to my friends? If you want famous people to like you, don't shriek in their ears?"
"It works like a charm," he agreed. "So, um… I was kind of thinking…"
"Yeah?"
"We don't leave town until two tomorrow afternoon… Maybe you'd like to get brunch or something?"
She smiled. "Yeah, okay. But if we see my mother anywhere near, I won't be held responsible for any articles of clothing she may shed."
"Well, is she as cute as you?"
"CJ!" She paused. "You think I'm cute?"
"Hmm… Let me think. I called you less than twelve hours after we met. Despite the fact that everyone said it would make me look pathetic and desperate."
"Are you?"
"Only a little bit. I'm glad you don't mind about me being in the band and all…"
"Yeah, I guess I can handle going out with a celebrity, if you don't mind that I don't tell my friends. I mean, do you know how much they'd rag on me for going out with a boyband member?"
"Do you know how much my sister rags on me for being in a boyband?" he countered. "I won't tell if you won't."
"It's a deal."
"So… eleven tomorrow?"
"Sure. I can't wait."
"Me, neither," he agreed. "Remind me to hate jackasses on cellphones a little less."
Chris's head was pounding when he woke up. He screwed his eyes shut immediately, as the light sent him in to sensory overload, and he wondered just how much he'd actually had to drink the previous night, and how he'd gotten home. He had no idea about that; everything was a bit of a blur.
He groped for his glasses and pulled them on, squinted, and saw he was in a hotel room. That was a pretty good sign, but since they stayed in so many different hotels all over the country, it wasn't necessarily the right hotel room. But at least there was no strange girl—or boy—lurking around that he could see, and it was clean.
And, he realized abruptly, there was a full glass of water and two Advil on the bedside table. He downed them gratefully, lay back on his bed, and waited a few minutes for the worst of the headache to subside.
He tried to remember what had happened, but it was all fuzzy. There had definitely been a girl. And a boy. He frowned, not sure what had happened with either one of them. And he had a feeling that Alejandro had been there… But that was probably just a tequila hallucination brought on by too much wishful thinking.
He glanced at his clock; it was almost noon. Which meant he had to get up. He groaned and pushed himself out of bed, and realized abruptly that he was wearing a pair of pajama pants. He glanced around for his clothes from the previous night and saw them folded neatly and sitting on a chair… Which was more than odd, since he didn't really bother to fold his clothes.
He shrugged it off and wandered into his bathroom to take a nice, hot shower. It helped clear some of the cotton from his brain, but didn't bring back any memories, unfortunately. But at least now he was pretty sure he was in the right hotel.
After the shower he dressed quickly, and, despite his churning stomach, was hungry. He sighed and prepared to hear about every embarrassing thing he'd done the night before in glorious detail—as his bandmates enjoyed sharing, and rarely waited for his hangovers to subside.
The common room of their suite was spacious and empty. He started for the phone to order in something from room service, then stopped. A plate of French toast and a glass of orange juice were sitting on the table.
"Is this some kind of practical joke?" he called out. "You guys being nice to me when I'm hung over? What gives?"
He sat at the table and regarded the food. Nothing looked wrong about it. There was no obvious tampering, and it smelled okay, so he shrugged and started in on it.
Richard wandered into the room and raised an eyebrow.
"Was this yours?" Chris asked with his mouth full.
"Nope," Richard said.
"Oh." Chris shrugged. "So… where is everyone?"
"Well, CJ's on a date. He wouldn't shut up about this girl, I swear, it was sickening."
"CJ met someone he actually likes?"
"Seems that way. Don't you remember, he was freaking out about it all night."
"I… don't really remember much of last night."
Richard smirked. "Boy, are you in for a surprise."
"I am?"
Richard grinned. "Well, I could be mean and tell you it's likely to show up in the form of a rash on your inner thigh…"
"Oh, god."
"Or I could be nice and not tell you anything at all. I wouldn't want to spoil this."
"What?" Chris demanded. "What happened? What are you talking about?"
"Yeah, not giving this one away."
"Did I do something dumb?"
"Don't you always?"
"What did I do?"
Richard patted his back. "There, there," he said. "I have to go find Nick, he won't
want to miss this."
"Miss what?"
Richard cackled as he walked away.
Chris poked at his French toast. He wasn't really hungry, now that he'd chowed half of it, and he was too confused to really care about eating. Someone had gotten him home, left him painkillers, folded his clothes and ordered him breakfast.
Which meant that either he'd done something right and no one was angry at him—someone was apparently even pleased with him—or he'd done something so horrible that he was being set up. And he honestly had no idea which.
"Um… Hey," someone said from one of the other doorways. He turned to look, but knew from the voice that it was Alejandro. And he was right; Alejandro was standing there, wearing an old t-shirt and a pair of jeans, and Chris's heartbeat sped up.
"Hi," Chris said, amazed by how Alejandro could make a faded cotton shirt look
so good.
"So…" Alejandro trailed off. "How's your head?"
"Hurts."
"And your ankle?"
"My head is hurting too much to tell, so I assume it's fine."
Alejandro smiled a tiny bit. "Well, you did seem to be trying to drink the bar dry last night."
Chris groaned. "What did I do?" he asked. "I don't remember anything. Just some girl. Oh, god…" He looked guiltily over at Alejandro. "I'm so sorry."
"For what?"
"You tell me, 'cause I'm sure I screwed up something pretty badly, but I don't remember."
"You really don't remember anything?"
"No… I'm sorry."
Alejandro shrugged. "I think I'm a little offended," he said.
"What?" Chris looked down at his breakfast. "You got this for me?"
Alejandro nodded.
"And… the Advil and water? All of that?"
Another nod.
"So… I guess you're talking to me again?"
"Good call."
"Um… why?" Chris asked. "I'm sorry, that sounds awful, don't worry about it, I just… I'm glad you're… not angry at me or anything."
Alejandro took a seat at the table. "You really don't remember coming home from the club?"
"Not… really… At all. Should I?"
"Well…" Alejandro shrugged. "You spent most of the trip incoherent. But it was kind of sweet."
"What did I say?"
"That you love me… and you care about me… and if I give you a second chance, you won't screw it up. Ring any bells?"
"No? Um… What did you answer?"
"Let's see if I can remember…" Alejandro looked bemused. "That I love you too, and I care about you too much to let you go, and if you ever hurt me again I'll kill you. I'm pretty sure I said that more than once."
Chris's jaw dropped and his eyes opened. "Wait, like… Are you telling me we… um… got back together last night?"
"Well, I had hoped you would remember that, but yes. We did."
Chris stared, and then it slowly turned into a wide grin. "How did I manage that? I mean, I can't believe… Alejandro, I love you. Even when I'm sober."
"Yeah, I know," Alejandro said. "I was serious about the killing you part, though."
"I'm sure I was very serious about the never hurting you again part, now that I think about it," Chris said. "Very serious."
"Glad to hear that." Alejandro gazed at him, smiling. "I missed you."
"I—"
"Kiss already!"
They both turned to see Nick staring at them, hands on his hips, and Richard behind him, laughing.
"Do you mind?" Chris said. "We're trying to have a moment, here."
Nick squeaked and covered his mouth, and Richard bit his lip to try and stop laughing. Chris hesitated and looked at Alejandro. "Can I?" he asked.
"Well, I'm not stopping you."
Nick squeaked again and they both glared at him. "Come on, buddy," Richard said. "Go call CJ and tell him the good news. And, bonus, you can interrupt his date."
"Ooh!" Nick agreed. "I do kind of owe him…"
"What?"
"Never mind. Come on." He started off and Richard followed, glancing back only once.
"Well, that was odd," Alejandro said.
"Less talking, more kissing!" Nick yelled. "If I can hear voices, you're not making out!"
"I don't think he's going to leave us alone until you kiss me," Alejandro said.
"Happy to," Chris answered, and finally pushed his plate away, turned to Alejandro and kissed him—just once, lightly, but Alejandro sighed a little, happily.
"I really missed you," he murmured and kissed Chris, pulling their chairs together in the process. Chris didn't answer, but he didn't have to. It was more than clear that he felt the same way.