Code Red by N.R. Walker

Chapter Seven

The photoshootfor Rolling Stone was in an old, abandoned stage theater. The parking lot was fenced off with mesh-covered chain link, so our convoy was hidden from the street.

The venue itself was an amazing nod to Art Deco architecture and must have been magnificent in its prime. Now it was peeling paint, warped drywall, and sprung upholstery. Time and neglect hadn’t been kind to the old-fashioned plaster molds and tin-pressed ceilings, wallpapers and drapery. It was creepy and eerie and would make an amazing horror movie set, but today it made a stunning location shoot.

There was more make-up, more hair stylists, and outfits and jewelry worth more than I made in a year. Amber, Ryan, and I kept everything in order, and Maddox handed everything off to me like he usually did. There was an interview to go with the photos, but the whole thing was really well done and a lot of fun.

“Last photo,” the director called. He asked the five band members to show the tattoos on their right wrist. They each had a triangle inked there, each one a different section of the pentagon shape that together made up the Atrous logo. They gripped the forearm of the guy next to them, making a pentagon shape, and the photographer lay on the ground and snapped a pic from underneath. You could see the tattoos, but together they made their logo. It was a powerful photo.

He called it a cover-worthy shot.

The interviewer asked, “A pentagon for the five of you, obviously. Does it signify anything else?”

“No,” Maddox answered. “A five-sided shape of equal parts. That’s what we are. If one of us was gone, we could never be whole.” He shrugged, somewhat nervously. “Like the saying goes, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. On our own, we’re just five ordinary guys. Together we conquered the world.”

“None of you would ever consider a solo career?” he asked. “When and if the time ever comes?”

Maddox’s expression was cool, if not a little offended. “God, no. Who the hell would I be without these guys? When I’m not with them, I feel like I’ve lost my phone or my keys. Five fingers, five senses, I dunno. Pick your analogy.”

“I could totally go out on my own,” Wes said, grinning.

Jeremy shoved him. “Fuck off. You can’t even decide pizza toppings on your own.”

They dissolved into laughter and more pushing and shoving, and I had to try to get the $20,000 diamond earrings off Maddox before they ended up falling down a crack in the floorboards.

I hadn’t noticed Ambrose arrive—I’d actually forgotten he was coming—until he called out from the top of the auditorium. “Still herding cats, Roscoe?” he yelled out.

That brought about more laughter, and Ambrose made his way down the steps to the stage. He held up three fingers. “What does this symbolize?”

“Wes’s IQ,” Blake replied.

“How high Blake can count,” Wes snapped back.

Ambrose’s smile became a grin. “Three. Three symbolizes . . . Triple. Platinum. Boys, the album’s just gone triple platinum!”

Holy shit.

There was a moment of stunned silence, then cheers and hell-yeahs, hugs and clapping.

“And I’ve booked a celebratory lunch at the Polo Lounge!” Ambrose said. “Let’s go!”

Steve barely had time to blink before he was organizing his security team for a full public outing without warning. We packed everything up, checked that all the outfits and jewelry were accounted for and signed off on. We thanked the Rolling Stone’s crew, and after Amber, Ryan, and I made sure we had all our things, we filed back into the vans and were off again.

I only noticed the documentary film crew when they were leaving at the same time as us. They were either now avoiding me, or I no longer noticed them.

Maddox grinned at me from his seat in the van. “Triple platinum,” he whispered. “Wow.”

“You should be proud. You’ve all worked really hard. You deserve it.” I opened the front pocket of my backpack and took out a velvet pouch. I slid Maddox’s earrings into my palm and handed them to him, one by one.

He had four in each ear, and he preferred longer, dangling earrings that magazines had dubbed as pretty-punk. They were a hoop with attachments, some were chain, some were crosses, feathers, different lengths, different widths. All his jewelry was black, of course, to go with the all-black clothes he wore daily. But it suited him, matching his dark eyes and hair and his sleeve of black tattoos.

“Ugh,” he said, fiddling with the last earring. “I can’t get this one.” He slid over, right up close to me. “Can you do it for me?”

He was too close, his face, his neck, the pale skin that disappeared under the collar of his shirt . . .

“Maybe if you did the ones at the back first,” I suggested as I leaned in even closer, trying to see the back of the earring to clasp it. God, he smelled so good.

“But then I wouldn’t need you to do it for me,” he murmured, all rough and breathy. “And I’d have to come up with another excuse to get you this close.”

I managed to clasp the earring and I pulled back, which was a mistake . . . because his face was right there.

His eyes went from mine to my mouth, and his lips parted.

Christ, he was going to kiss me.

My heart stopped.

Our faces were so close I could see his eyelashes and the galaxies in his eyes. But he smiled and leaned back and patted my thigh. “Roscoe, Roscoe, Roscoe,” he murmured. “What am I going to do with you?”

“You’re going to do nothing with me,” I whispered in a rush. I glanced over to the front where I could see the back of Steve’s head. He was busy on his phone and hadn’t seemed to have heard us.

Maddox chuckled. “I don’t know about that,” he said, like he couldn’t care who heard us. “You keep looking at me like that, and we’ll be doing something.”

Heat bloomed low in my belly, but I cleared my throat and removed his hand from my leg. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” I breathed.

His smile was pouty, his lips pink and plump. He leaned in again, those dark eyes pinning me to the spot. “Am I? Because, while this is a lot of fun, I’m not quite sure I’m playing, Roscoe.”

“ETA, thirty seconds,” Steve called out.

Christ. That was the shortest drive ever.

Maddox sighed but he didn’t move back to his seat. When the van slowed, I scooted forward, collected the backpack, and put it on. Maddox squeezed my bicep. “God, man. How much do you lift?”

I shot him a look over my shoulder.

He raised an eyebrow. “Think you could lift me? Wanna find out in my room tonight?”

Before I could answer, the van door slid open and it was game on. Getting into the Beverly Hills Hotel and the restaurant was without issue, and the meal itself was amazing. I sat with Amber and Ryan, both thankful and disappointed to put distance between Maddox and me. But all too soon it was time to go and there was quite a crowd gathered outside when we were leaving.

The usual screaming, cameras, photographers, all yelling for a split second of attention. Maddox kept his head down and I followed him into the van and pulled the door closed. “We’re going straight to the stadium,” I explained. “You can rest there.”

Maddox groaned and slumped in his seat. He pulled his cap down low and closed his eyes, and honestly, it gave me time to get through some work messages and emails without worrying about Maddox being all hot and flirty.

Which wasn’t exactly horrible. I just wasn’t sure how much longer I could say no.

It was a decent drive to the stadium at Pasadena, and given Maddox still had his eyes closed, I risked a scroll through social media. Twitter, Instagram, TikTok . . .  There was footage of me saying the herding-cats thing, which was now both memes and gifs, and there were already photos of us leaving the hotel at lunch. A lot of photos of the boys, mostly Maddox, but a lot of me too. Always by Maddox’s side, or with my hand on his back, or following him into the van.

Roscoe herding cats again.

Moscoe pic alert!

Roscoe herds his favorite kitty!

For fuck’s sake. Who the hell wrote those headlines?

I was used to being in the background, no problem. But being the focus made me feel uneasy. Especially any kind of romantic connotation or ship as it was called.

This wasn’t about me.

But it did shine another spotlight on Maddox, and that put more pressure on everyone.

After the triple platinum announcement, the boys had forgotten about the whole herding-cats comment. They were stretching, practicing choreography, being fitted for something, having sound gear checked, eating, but very little resting. Amber, Ryan, and I were chasing one thing or another up until stage time.

Every song was perfection, every move was smooth. The whole production was state of the art, their vocals were flawless. They were charming, funny, sexy, and very talented.

The crowd roared like thunder, singing along to every word, screaming, chanting. The whole stadium pulsed with every beat.

When the show was over and they came off stage for the last time, they were drenched in sweat. Their shirts clung to their torsos, their hair was stuck to their foreheads, and they were panting, breathless.

Grinning.

I helped Maddox and Luke out of their shirts and took their earpieces for the waiting sound guys, and I pretended not to notice when Maddox came back wearing only a pair of running shorts.

I didn’t notice his lean body, muscular like a boxer and fit as hell, which wasn’t fair because he worked out the least. His sleeve of tattoos ended at his shoulder, a mix of images—a dragon, a spray of stars, cherry blossoms—a work of art down to his wrist.

He put Michelangelo to shame.

He pulled on a black T-shirt and smiled at me, as though he knew damn well I’d been watching him. “We ready to go? I’m starving.”

I gave a nod, wondering what flirty, sexual innuendos he was going to torture me with on the way back to the hotel.

“Hey, can I come with you?” Jeremy asked him. “Wes isn’t ready. Julio, the PT, is torturing his shoulder for another ten minutes apparently.”

Maddox froze for a second, then glanced at me. “Uh, yeah. That’s all right, isn’t it?”

So, no flirting with me then.

“Yeah, of course,” I said. I held my hand out to Jeremy. “Pass me your bag.” Then I called out to Ryan. “I’ve got Maddox and Jeremy. We’re leaving now.”

Steve motioned to Robbie, another security guy, to join us. “You’re with us.”

It was going to be a crowded van.

Robbie took the front seat, Maddox and Jeremy climbed through to the backseat, and Steve and I took the seats near the door. I’d gotten so used to it just being me and Maddox over the years that it felt terribly crowded.

I missed the time to decompress. The silence, the comfortable ease of it just being him and me.

I missed him sitting next to me.

And I missed him being flirty and the playful daring in his eyes.

While Maddox and Jeremy talked about their performances, I took out my phone to see the response of tonight’s concert, but there were still photos and bullshit articles on me. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I grumbled.

Steve grunted his agreement and he glanced at my phone. “Hm.”

“You agree with me, right?” I asked him quietly. “This is not a good thing.”

Steve rarely said much, but his words were usually well thought out. “I think it has the potential to become a problem.”

“That’s what I said. Ambrose and PR said it was fun, at the moment, and was good for publicity. Anything that keeps Atrous trending.”

Steve scowled but kept his gaze ahead. “We may have to look at splitting your unit.”

Splitting me and Maddox? That hit me out of nowhere. “Oh.”

“It might be more efficient if you paired with one of the others instead.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Maddox asked from behind us.

“Uh, nothing,” I replied, giving him a smile.

Maddox looked outright surprised, then indignant, and it took me a second to realize what his expression meant.

Maddox knew I was lying.

“It’s nothing.” I turned back to my phone and decided to check emails instead. Maddox grunted, but Jeremy began a recount of the second set.

“Hm,” Steve murmured after a while.

“Hm, what?” I asked.

“I won’t suggest a change unless it’s necessary. I know you two have a thing.”

“A thing? What the hell does that mean?”

Steve still looked straight ahead. I think he shrugged, but he was so stoic it was hard to tell. “I won’t suggest a change in units unless I think it’s necessary.” He looked at me then, serious. “And if I think it’s necessary, I need you to agree with me.”

Because if he thought it was necessary, it meant the security threat level had changed. That meant Maddox or the others could be in danger. “Yeah, of course.”

“Because he will fight it,” Steve murmured, staring straight ahead again.

“Who will fight it?” I whispered.

Steve gave the slightest nod, signaling toward Maddox. “He won’t go with anyone but you.”

Jeremy was still talking about one of their dance routines in the second set, so I was confident Maddox couldn’t hear me. “He trusts me.”

“Hm,” Steve grunted again.

What did that mean?

“Anyway,” I said, deciding to change the topic. “I’ll be laying low at public meets for a while. Staying in the green rooms, that kind of thing. That way I can’t be blindsided by nosey interviewers like with the herding-cats comment.”

Steve nodded and that was the end of our conversation. I liked Steve. He ran a tight team, and he took no shit from anyone. I’d also seen his martial arts training, so I knew he was more than just talk. He was a good guy, exceptional at his job, and nothing got past him.

But did he think Maddox and I were a thing?

Had he worked with Maddox and me all this time, seen us talking, seen us interact with each other, and assumed we were . . . together? He said he knew Maddox and I “have a thing.”

I didn’t want to think about that. Or about the fact that maybe more people on the payroll thought the same thing. And I would absolutely not think about the fact that Maddox and I behaved like a couple.

The more I thought about it, the more I needed to know. I nudged Steve with my elbow. “What did you mean when you said we have a thing?”

He shot me a disbelieving look. “It’s my job to follow behavioral patterns. And because I have eyes.”

“Hey, boss,” Robbie called out. “One block out.”

“Thanks,” Steve replied and undid his belt. He sat forward on his seat and told us the order of how we would get out of the van. As the van came to a stop, he met my gaze with a smile. “Watch.”

Robbie opened the door for us. Steve jumped out, Maddox, then Jeremy, then me with their bags and my backpack. Steve had ushered them both from the van to the basement foyer where the elevator was, and Robbie would stay and wait for the others.

By the time I got inside, Jeremy had the elevator doors open and had stepped in. Steve stood, holding the doors open, but Maddox waited for me. Once I was just a few steps away and he was certain I’d be joining them, he got into the elevator. I followed, ignoring Steve’s small smile as the doors closed us all in.

Did Maddox always wait for me?

The whole thing had been just a few seconds, and Maddox was really only just a few feet in front of me anyway . . .

But he had waited.

“I’m starving,” Jeremy said, his head leaning back against the mirror behind him.

“Dinner’s been delivered and should already be in the common room,” I said.

“The second van is just a few minutes behind us,” Steve added. “I think Wes and Ryan will be another ten or fifteen.”

Maddox was staring at me from under his cap, as if he was trying to solve a puzzle, and I pretended not to know he was staring at me. Steve’s smirk in the mirror was a little too told-you-so, and I also pretended it wasn’t aimed at me.

When we got to our floor, Steve stepped out first. Seeing it was clear, he signaled to Jeremy and Maddox. I followed them out but stopped. “See you guys in there,” I said. Maddox stopped, so I handed him his and Jeremy’s bags. “Just be a sec.”

Jeremy dragged Maddox with him because he was starrrrrving and Steve went with them. I went to my room, for no other reason than just to have two minutes peace and quiet without staring eyes or smug smiles.

I threw my backpack on the bed and splashed some cold water on my face in the bathroom. I just needed a few minutes for some deep breaths and head-clearing, that was all. I didn’t want to look in the mirror right about then. I wasn’t sure I’d like what I saw. So I sat on my bed, then lay back to stare at the ceiling for ten minutes.

I didn’t think about how Maddox had me fix his earring, how he looked at me, how he flirted, how he smelled up close . . .

“Get a fucking grip,” I mumbled as I strode back out of my room.

This was an utter mind fuck I didn’t need right now. We were on tour. Second concert done, twenty-one to go. There was no room for this mess.

The others were back when I walked in and I made a beeline for Ryan and Amber, parked my ass on the couch, and stuffed my face with takeout. They joked about me taking two of the boys in my van more often, and I joked right back saying I was happy to. I deliberately didn’t look over toward where the boys were sitting. I could hear them talk and laugh and joke around, though I didn’t hear Maddox much.

I very deliberately didn’t look.

After we’d gone through our schedules for tomorrow, the boys had gone back to their rooms and we cleaned everything up, I headed to my room.

I was grateful that Maddox had gone to his room, and I was glad we didn’t speak or make eye contact. It didn’t particularly sit well with me, but maybe some distance would do us good. Two people had said that Maddox looked for me, or searched for me, in the last few days. First Amber and then Steve. And that had to mean others noticed it as well.

This had disaster written all over it.

A knock at my door startled me.

Shit. This can’t be good.

I looked through the peephole and . . . a certain disaster stood there, all in black, cap pulled down low. He shuffled from foot to foot, keeping his head down, trying to look inconspicuous.

Christ.

My heart thumped, my stomach twisted. This wasn’t good at all. Should I ignore him? Pretend I’m not here?

He raised his hand to knock again, and without thinking, I opened the door.

His gaze shot up, and he gritted his teeth. His nostrils flared. He was angry. He didn’t wait for an invitation. He didn’t say anything at all. He brushed past me, his body against mine, and walked into my room.

I closed the door and turned to face him, my adrenaline racing. Yep, he was pissed off. He was uneasy, like he didn’t know what to do with his hands, and he was breathing hard. “What the hell’s going on?”

“What?” I asked. “About what?”

“Don’t play dumb, Roscoe. You know what. You and Steve being all chummy and whispering in the car.”

“That was about something else.”

He grimaced and gasped back a breath. “I heard my name. And I asked you what it was about, and you fucking lied to me.”

I knew he saw through me. “Maddox . . .”

He pointed his finger toward the door. “I don’t give a fuck what anyone else says or does or any of the bullshit they spin to me. I don’t care. But you.” He pointed at me and spoke through gritted teeth. “You don’t lie to me.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that, but he wasn’t done.

“You lied to me, then you ignored me the rest of the night, and I won’t fucking have it.”

“I didn’t ignore you,” I said, lying again. It was pitiful and meek, and he saw through me again.

He shook his head. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing’s going on.”

“Bullshit.”

“Maddox, it’s not about you.”

He stepped closer, really pissed off now. There was such betrayal in his eyes, but then he took a step back, and whatever he was about to say was gone. He shook his head. His breaths were short and shallow. “I thought I had you. In my corner. I thought we—” He stopped. “You know what? Fuck you. I don’t need you. You wanna lie to me, then go right ahead. It doesn’t matter.” He waved his hand like he was done with me, made a move for the door.

“Maddox,” I tried again. “Please don’t.”

He spun to face me. “Please don’t what?”

“Keep your voice down,” I whisper-hissed. “For fuck’s sake.”

“Please don’t what?” he asked again. “And I don’t give a fuck who hears me, Roscoe. Please don’t what? Leave you? Lie to you?”

“Neither. Both.” I didn’t know what I was saying. “I don’t know, Christ. What Steve and I were talking about was about me. Not you.”

Okay, so that was not a direct lie. More like a half-truth.

“You really are a terrible liar,” he said, his voice quiet now. “You told me you’d never keep anything from me. And now you can’t even look at me.”

If I look at you, I’ll cross this floor, pull you into my arms, and kiss you . . .

I had to steel myself to meet his gaze. “Maddox, I am in your corner. I am on your side.”

He stood there for a long second, searching my face, for what, I had no clue. He took a deep, shaky breath, then without another word, he turned on his heel and walked out. The door closed with a quiet snick and the sound took my breath away.

I wanted to follow him, but for what purpose? So I could lie to him some more?

I wasn’t sure I could stomach that.

After about five minutes of just standing there, I took out my phone and sent him a text. I am in your corner. We’ll talk in the morning.

He didn’t reply. I didn’t expect him to. The mood he was in, he’d be more inclined to knock on my door and throw his phone at me.

He didn’t do that either.

So I had a steaming hot shower, climbed into bed, and stared at the ceiling for hours.

I thumped my alarm,cursing 5:30 am for the hell it was. After not near enough sleep, I sat up on the edge of my bed and checked to see if Maddox had replied.

He hadn’t.

So I hit the hotel gym and tried jogging on the treadmill to see if that made me feel better. It didn’t. Sprinting didn’t either. Punching the shit out of the punching bag helped, but that hollow, heavy feeling in my chest didn’t let up.

Steve and a few of the other security guys were in the gym too, but they kept their distance, and for that I was glad. I wasn’t in the mood for any bullshit about how Maddox never took his eyes off me today.

There was no concert today, but our schedule was still full. Photoshoots, interviews, promotional shit all day long. But the boys got to sleep in . . . until eight thirty anyway. So after I’d showered, I met Amber and Ryan in the hotel restaurant for breakfast.

“Morning,” I said, taking a seat at the table.

“You look like shit,” Ryan said.

“Thank you. That’s the look I was going for.” I sipped my coffee. It was awful. “Ugh.”

Amber stared at me. “You haven’t seen it, have you.” It wasn’t a question.

“Seen what? I went to the gym, showered, came here.” My stomach sank. “What did I miss?”

“What Maddox was doing at three o’clock this morning.”

I almost choked on my coffee. “What he was doing? Where the fuck was he? He was supposed to be in his room. He was going back to his room.” I had my phone out, trying to scroll through social media, looking for anything.

“He was in his room,” Ryan answered.

I found it then. A hashtag of #whohurtMaddox was trending. He’d posted a video. I clicked on it, my heart in my throat.

The screen was very dark, he was clearly in his hotel room, on his bed. Leaning against the headboard, playing his new guitar. He wore his long sleep pants and a black T-shirt. His hair was kinda messy. He’d taken his earrings out, and his face was free of make-up.

This was going to hurt. I knew it.

I’d never heard the melody before. His voice was stripped down, soulful and raw.

Please don’t ask me to choose between

Your lies or your leaving,

How can I decide

When my heart is breaking.

You’re not on my side

my corner is bare,

So maybe I should go

No one would care.

I don’t know how to leave you

Maybe you could stay, stay,

and lie to me a little longer.

Baby, a little longer.

Just one more day.

Tell me please,

How can I be enough to make you stay?

He posted it at 3:00 am.

You’re not on my side. My corner is bare.

Was it about me? I was pretty sure it was.

Fuck.

The video he posted had almost two million likes, and the comments were . . . not surprising.

Maddox we love you. You’re more than enough Maddox. Who hurt you, baby? Who broke your heart? You deserve better. Blah blah blah.

But there were some more concerning comments as well.

#WhohurtMaddox had been trending for a while, apparently. Usually followed by the ever so charming #Tellmewhohurtyou #Ijustwanttotalk and #Iwillkillwhoeverhurtyou.

“For fuck’s sake,” I whispered, shutting my phone off and leaving it screen down on the table. “I’ll go talk to him.”

I went to stand up, but Amber grabbed my arm. “Leave him for a bit. Considering he’s had maybe two or three hours’ sleep.”

“I’m going to have to speak to Steve,” I said. “There were some pretty aggressive comments.”

“Probably a good idea.” Ryan nodded. “Shall we try and guess what it’s all about?”

“He’s been having trouble sleeping,” I admitted. “He didn’t want anyone to worry.”

Amber’s expression was neutral, which usually meant something bad was coming. “What do you mean he was going back to his room?” she asked coolly. “Before, you said he was going back to his room.”

Shit.

“He came to see me last night. After dinner. He stayed for maybe five or ten minutes, then went back to his room.”

“What did he want?”

“To talk.” Christ. I couldn’t lie to them. “He was of the impression I was keeping something from him.” I sighed. “In the van back to the hotel last night, Steve and I were talking about the possibility of changing some security measures, given that I seem to be popular right now, with that stupid interview and getting myself on camera. Having Maddox and I together seemed like a bigger target. Anyway, Steve wondered if it would be better if we split our unit and maybe one of you two took Maddox instead. Steve said Maddox won’t go with anyone but me, so we’d need to keep it quiet until it happens—if it happens—and Maddox heard part of the conversation and questioned me, but I told him it was nothing. He can tell when I’m lying, apparently. He left my room upset. Or pissed off. Both. I don’t know. I didn’t go after him.”

They both stared at me.

“Then I guess we’re lucky he went back to his room,” Ryan said. “And that he didn’t leave the hotel.”

I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Hotel security has to tell me if he does.”

“If they see him leave.” Ryan made a good point.

Amber pursed her lips together and tapped the table with her finger, thinking. “The song he sang in the video—”

“It’s new. I haven’t heard it before.”

“He says something about lying,” she continued. My eyes met hers and I knew what she was about to say. “It’s about you, isn’t it?”

I sighed, feeling a little sick to my stomach. “I think so. The line about not being on his side and in his corner . . .  That’s aimed at me. Well,” I corrected, “I can’t say for certain, but he accused me of that last night.”

“Not being on his side?” Ryan clarified.

I nodded. “Because I lied to him. He said I was supposed to be in his corner.” I pushed my still-full coffee away and stood up. “I need to go speak to him before Ambrose turns up.”

They didn’t object this time, either too stunned or they thought it was a good idea. Which I highly doubted. “Go easy on him,” Amber murmured.

“Breakfast for them in one hour,” Ryan said, checking his watch. “We leave in two.”

I nodded and made my way up to our floor, a heavy lump of dread in my belly feeling greasier with every step.

I knocked on his door, not expecting an immediate response, given he’d only had about three hours’ sleep. I knocked twice more, then sent him a text. Open the door. I waited another minute, then knocked again and yelled, “Maddox, don’t make me get a hotel manager to open this goddamn door.”

I heard him grumble before the door pulled inward.

He was still mostly asleep, his hair a mess, his sleep pants and T-shirt were crumpled, his eyes squinted and barely open. He snarled at me. “What?”

I did to him what he did to me last night. I brushed past him, our shoulders clipping, and I let myself into his room.

It was dark, the shades drawn, the bed rumpled.

“No, please come in,” he mumbled, voice croaking. “Do whatever the fuck you want.” He walked back to the bed, got in, and pulled the covers over his head.

I sighed. “Well, congratulations,” I said, knowing he’d hear. “You broke Twitter again. Your little song was a hit.”

No reaction, no reply.

“I’ll be going to see Steve after I leave here. Given that a good few thousand of the comments on your post are threatening bodily harm to whoever it was who hurt you. So thanks for that. We really needed the security upgrade.”

Still no reply.

“It’s not just you in this band,” I added, which was a low blow but not completely uncalled for. “You say you hate that the media and the fans make it all about you; then you go and do something like that. You just made it harder for everyone.”

There was a long beat of silence. “Are you done?” his voice was muffled from under the covers.

“Not even fucking close. Christ, Maddox, Ambrose is gonna pitch a fit when he sees this.”

He sat up on the bed and pulled the covers to his chest. He looked miserable. “I’m sorry.”

I sighed, the anger in me dissipating when I saw the sadness that now clung to him. Fucking hell. I went to his side of the bed and sat down heavily.

“Are the others mad at me?” he whispered.

“I haven’t seen them yet. Amber and Ryan are . . . concerned.”

“About?”

“About you, Maddox. Every single person on this team cares about you.”

He flinched and chewed on his bottom lip. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again. “I was angry. And sad, I guess.”

“I’m sorry too. About last night. I wasn’t lying to you . . . I was trying to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?”

I had to make myself answer. I wanted to say “nothing” and just leave, but I needed to be upfront. “Steve said it might be safer for everyone if you and I weren’t a unit.”

Maddox’s eyes shot to mine. “What?”

“He said it might be best, but he doubted you’d agree with it. He, uh . . .” God, here goes. “He actually said he thinks we have a thing . . . together.”

He stared. “A thing?”

“Yeah, like a thing. A romantic thing.”

Maddox’s eyes widened. “He said that?”

I nodded and swallowed hard. “He’s actually not the first person to say that to me in the last few days.”

He was quiet for a long moment. “Oh.”

I shrugged. “Apparently we act couple-y. Like the internet needs any fuel for that fire. Anyway, Steve said if he did ever say our unit needed to split, he’d need me to agree with him because you wouldn’t.” I let out an unsteady breath. “You wanted to know this, so I’m telling you.”

“But you think we should . . . not be together.”

Christ, the way he said that.

“If it comes down to your safety, then yes. Whatever it takes, Maddox.”

“I don’t want that.”

“I don’t want that either.”

He threw back the covers, got off the bed, and began to pace. “Roscoe . . .” He shook his head, and he was breathing like he’d just run around the block.

I stood up and grabbed his hand. “Hey.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want that.”

As much as I didn’t want that either, his reaction was a little more . . . concerning.

“I don’t think you understand,” he whispered.

“I don’t think I do either.” His breathing was a little shallow. Panicky almost. He’d probably still be pacing if I didn’t have a hold of his hand. “Maddox, hey.”

His eyes were wide, vulnerable. “Do you know what it’s like to realize you’re truly alone?”

I shook my head. He needed to speak so I let him.

“I have no one. I’m surrounded by hundreds of people and the world watches my every move, but I feel like I’m invisible. Everyone watches me but no one sees me. I have no one, Roscoe. No one who understands. No one who gets it. I thought I had you, but it was made very clear to me last night that’s simply not true.”

“You do have me.”

“You lied to me.”

“And you told me yesterday you lied to me every day, so how is this any different?”

“Because it is!” he cried. “Because it’s you. And because you’re all I’ve got.”

His words hit me like a truck.

“What?”

“You looked me right in the eye and lied. And what do we have if we don’t have the truth, Roscoe. That’s all I ever asked from you. That was all I ever needed. And you looked me right in the goddamn eye, and you lied to me.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He tried to pull his hand free but I kept a hold of him. I hated seeing him hurt like this. “You’re not alone. I’m sorry if you feel you are, but I’m here. You have me. I do see you.”

He shook his head. “I thought . . . I thought . . .”

“You thought what?” I whispered. I hadn’t realized just how close we were, that I still had his hand in mine.

He squinted his eyes shut and put his head down, his chest rose and fell with his breaths, but no words came.

I put my other hand around his neck and pulled him against me, wrapping him up in a hug. He was tense at first and I wondered if I’d done the wrong thing, but then he sighed and melted against me. And he sighed again . . . until I realized he wasn’t sighing at all.

It was as though he was breathing deep for the first time in forever. Like only now could he catch his breath.

I rubbed his back and he clung to me. “You okay?”

He nodded against my chest, but he didn’t speak and he didn’t try to move away. If anything, he held me a little tighter. But it wasn’t just his tension and stress melting away. It was mine too.

I tried to remember the last time I’d hugged someone. Or been hugged in return. It had been . . . far too long.

“Can I ask you something?” I murmured.

He nodded, still clinging to me. He felt so good against me. After all these years of wanting this, more than anything, I was about to ask him something that would no doubt make him pull away.

“The song you sang in the middle of the night . . .”

I thought he might pull back or try to, at least. But no. He stayed right there, his forehead in the crook of my neck, his arms around my back. If anything, he held me tighter. “It was about you.”

I was sure he could hear, or feel, my hammering heart. “Thought so.”

“Please don’t lie to me,” he whispered. “I can’t take it.”

“Okay.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

I squeezed him. “Okay.”

I didn’t know what this was or what was happening between us. But he needed me, and for some fucked-up reason, I liked that he did.

“Maddox,” I said, pulling back so I could see his face. “If our security team says we need to change things up, then we will need to do that.”

He tried to back up, so I cupped his face and held him right there. His eyes were wide, so dark and so beautiful. “I’m not going anywhere,” I said firmly. “If you have to work with Ryan or Amber for a little while, that’s okay. I’m still here. I’m not leaving you. Okay?”

He nodded. “’Kay.”

“You’re not alone,” I whispered, glancing down at his mouth. “I see you, Maddox. I see you.”

He leaned a little closer, sliding his tongue across his bottom lip like he was about to kiss me. And I thought, fuck it. He wanted me to kiss him. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to fix this, I wanted to fix him, even if it broke me.

I tilted his face up, just a fraction. “Tell me to stop,” I breathed.

His gaze dropped to my mouth, then drew back up to my eyes. “No.”

So I ghosted my lips over his, the barest of touches. Lingering, longing, but not quite touching. Then I did it again, feather-light and his eyes rolled back, his eyelids fluttered closed.

And I pressed my lips to his a little harder, enough for him to gasp, and I pulled his bottom lip in between mine, just about to tilt his face and open his mouth to taste his tongue—

When there was a knock on the door.

We broke apart, both of us dazed.

“Hey, dickbag, open up.”

Jeremy.

Fuck.

“Fuck.”

“Maddox.”

“Yeah, all right. Keep your pants on,” Maddox replied and went to the door.

Trying to act casual, I leaned against the table just as he opened the door and Jeremy came in. He stopped when he saw me. “Oh.”

“Yeah, I was just leaving,” I said. “I’ve said everything I needed to say. Maddox, you need to be showered and ready for breakfast in twenty minutes. We leave at ten thirty.”

I ignored the curious look Jeremy gave me and saw Maddox give a nod before I let myself out. I went as fast as I could into my room and had to lean against the back of the door. My heart was about to gallop out of my chest, my stomach was a giant knot, and my blood felt like I’d taken a 240-volt hit.

I’d kissed Maddox.

I kissed him.

And it was hot as hell.

I held his face. I held his body to mine. I felt him pressed to me. I felt his lips. Soft. So soft. His warmth.

I wasn’t sorry.

He’d opened up to me about feeling alone, about feeling hurt by me, that the song he’d sung was about me. He’d shown me a piece of his heart, so I’d shown him mine in return.

Kissing him was the right thing to do.

Gathering my resolve, I found Amber and Ryan in the common room. Breakfast was being set up for the boys, so I grabbed a coffee and joined Amber and Ryan on the sofas. “How’d it go?” Amber asked.

“Yeah, good.” I sipped my coffee. It was terrible, but I pretended it wasn’t because it gave me something to focus on. “I left him with Jeremy and told him to be here for breakfast.”

“Ambrose was in here looking for you,” Ryan said.

I sighed. It was to be expected. “Where is he?”

“Said he’d be back in five.”

“Was he pissed?”

They both stared at me like what do you think.

Great.

I took out my phone and spent ten minutes scrolling through entertainment sites, social media, and even news sites for any update on the damage. Not that there was much point. Ambrose’s PR team would have been all over it for hours. I’m sure I was about to get told how bad it was.

Wes, Blake, and Luke came in and sat at the breakfast table, right on time. The last thing Maddox needed was to be late. He better get here before Ambrose.

And like he’d heard me, a few seconds later Maddox and Jeremy walked in. Maddox was freshly showered, his hair still wet. Black shirt, black jeans, black boots.

Sexy as hell.

He and Jeremy were smiling, which was a good sign. Maddox went straight over to the others but he didn’t sit down. He stood, and shoving his hands in his pockets, he cleared his throat. “Uh, I just want to apologize,” he said, awkward and genuine. “For posting shit online in the middle of the night. I didn’t think, sorry. And I was dutifully reminded”—he shot me a look—“that what I do affects everyone, and that we’re a team and I didn’t act like it.”

Jeremy smiled at me, and Luke too.

“Anyway,” Maddox said. “It was a dick thing to do, and I’m sorry. If there are ramifications or interview questions or whatever, I’ll take those.”

Wes stood up and hugged him, so Luke and Blake did too, and the five of them sat down to breakfast, smiling and laughing.

“Christ,” Amber whispered, stunned. “Just what did you say to him?”

I smiled and sipped my coffee. “Apparently I told him exactly what he needed to hear.”

Ambrose ran through allhis notes and the itinerary, congratulated the boys on their hard work, thanked all the teams for their tireless efforts, then after wrapping it all up, he motioned to the door. “Maddox and Roscoe, a minute, please.”

Fuck.

It wasn’t unexpected but it certainly wasn’t going to be fun.

Maddox smiled at me but he rolled his eyes as though he’d been called out by the teacher. We followed Ambrose out to a quiet room, and although I stood with Maddox, I knew Ambrose expected me on his side.

“Maddox,” he began cautiously. “Working on some new music this morning, I see.”

It was a lighter way to broach the subject.

“Ah, yeah. If you’re about to read me the riot act, Roscoe beat you to it already.”

Ambrose’s gaze went to me, then back to Maddox. “It wasn’t ideal. The fan reaction has been . . . intense. To say the least.” Then Ambrose looked at me. “Our guys are on that though, weeding out the threatening ones, that kind of thing.”

“Sorry. I’ve already apologized to the guys. It wasn’t my intention to upset people.” He shrugged. “Should I pull it down?”

Ambrose shook his head. “That would only create more hype, and it’s too late now.” He went on for a bit on public image and not giving any more information than was necessary. Privacy was incredibly important—something he didn’t need to remind Maddox of—and Atrous and Platinum Entertainment couldn’t, and wouldn’t, risk any reason for unsavory headlines. He chatted briefly about security, keeping the status quo for now, pending any new developments.

“But about the song,” he went on. “There’s been a lot of interest. In particular, Mr. Kim himself wanted to know if you’d be interested in talks, not now but perhaps after the tour, about some options for perhaps a single release.”

“No,” Maddox replied. He didn’t flinch, he didn’t blink. “No. No single anything. I’ve told you this before. I’m not doing anything without them.”

“I figured you’d say as much,” Ambrose replied.

“So stop asking me.”

Ambrose narrowed his eyes but he finished with a smile. “We’ve got a long way to go. Best behavior, please.”

Then he handed me some sheets of paper. “Questions and answers. Make sure everyone’s familiar.”

I nodded. “Sure.”

Ambrose left and his assistants appeared out of nowhere to follow him. Maddox stood there for a long moment, clearly curbing his temper. Then his gaze fell on me, and he chewed on the inside of his lip. “So . . .” He smiled. “Interesting morning.”

I barked out a quiet laugh. “Uh, yeah.”

We stared at each other. His dark eyes were daring, his lips inviting. I let out a breath. “We, uh, we should go back inside. Before someone comes looking.”

Maddox nodded slowly. “Just so I understood . . .  He said the status quo remains unchanged. So that means it’s just us in the car, right? No one else.”

I tried not to smile but ended up laughing. I ignored his smug smile and held up the papers Ambrose had given me. “Work to do.” I went back into the common room before I did something stupid like kiss him where anyone could see us.

Maddox went back to the band, and I walked directly over to Amber and Ryan to go through the brief from Ambrose about how best to field any questions or press about Maddox’s 3:00 am upload.

Beneath it all, beneath the hype, the likes, the attention, was a man whose every action was scrutinized to the point where we had to be briefed. I hated that for him. I hated that he was subject to that.

Should he have uploaded a song at 3:00 am?

No.

But he was hurting and he needed to share that the only way he knew how. And that was through his music. Now everyone had to be told, prepared, and directed, falsely displaying his heartbreak on an international scale.

It was no wonder he hated his fame.

Not that he ever admitted that out loud, but it was a weight very few knew how to bear. I saw the struggle in him. We all did. The world didn’t, though. They just kept pushing and pushing for more of him.

Part of me wondered how much he had left to give.

When it was time, we took our gear and headed down to the waiting line of vans, and like always, Maddox climbed in before me. And as per usual, he sat on the backseat.

I took the seat nearest to the door, but he cleared his throat. “Uh, Roscoe?”

I looked at him over the back of the seat, ignoring the nerves, the butterflies, the anticipation. “Yes, Maddox?”

He grinned and patted the seat next to him. “We’d have more privacy if you sat here with me, but if you don’t care, then I sure as hell don’t,” he said, getting up.

“No, wait,” I said, quickly joining him in the backseat.

He chuckled and there was an awkward moment where neither of us spoke. Our convoy began to move out and Maddox cleared his throat. “So, this morning . . .”

My mouth was suddenly dry. “Yeah, about that . . .”

“What about it?”

“Did you want me to apologize and say it’ll never happen again?”

“Hell, no. I mean, do you want it to never happen again?”

I looked at him, at his eyes, at his lips.

He smiled. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” But then he looked at my mouth and his lips parted, his eyes seemed to lose focus for a split second, and he blinked back to his senses.

Then it was my turn to laugh. “You okay?”

He shook his head and wiped his hands on his thighs, embarrassed. “What the hell kind of kiss was that anyway?” he whispered. “It was like a not-kiss but possibly one of the best I’ve ever had.”

“The best?” God, I couldn’t believe we were having this conversation. “And what do you mean a not-kiss?”

He laughed and his cheeks flushed the most delicate pink. He touched his lips ever so lightly with his fingertips. “It was . . . almost a kiss. I think we need to remedy the almost part.”

I shot a look to the front of the van. If Steve could hear us from there, I had no clue. “Uh, I think that’s something that should be kept behind closed doors. Don’t you?”

“The van door is closed.”

I rolled my eyes and tried to change the subject . . . somewhat. “And I’ll have you know, there was no almost-kiss about it. It was absolutely a real kiss, and I’m beginning to wonder if you’ve ever been kissed properly.”

His mouth fell open. “Oh, I sure have been.”

“Not by me.”

His eyes widened and he let out a breath, smiling. His gaze lingered on my mouth, and he whispered, “I want you to kiss me again.”

I glanced to the front seat again, to the back of Steve’s head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. As much as I would like to.” My chest felt far too tight.

He pouted. “But that’s not a no, right? It’s just a not in the van, or not where anyone could see us, or in front of other people thing, right?”

“Right. I think some ground rules should apply. If we want to . . . do what we did this morning, again.”

“We want to, yes? I mean, I do.” He put his hand to his chest. “A lot more . . . of what we did this morning. And honestly, I should thank you for kissing me first,” he murmured. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while and just thought it’d never be a possibility.”

I barked out a laugh. “You have, have you?”

“Yes, I have. Though I didn’t think it was funny . . .”

I slid my hand over his and laced our fingers. “I’m not laughing at you, I promise. Thank you for being honest with me. About the song. About being hurt by me lying to you.”

“Ah, yes, the lying thing. Glad you brought that up.”

“Ugh, god.”

He chuckled and brought our joined hands onto his lap, but his smile soon died and he studied the back of my hand, my fingers. “So, then,” he said eventually. He was serious now, and I knew whatever he was about to say was important. “Tonight . . . will you come to my room?”

Christ.

“I, uh, I can, yes.”

“I got about two hours sleep last night,” he murmured. “I’ll sleep better if you’re there, that’s all.” He put his other hand over our already joined hands. “I’ll even give you permission to kiss me again. If you want to, that is.”

My stomach swooped, and I could barely speak. “I very much would like to.”

“But?”

I chuckled. “But there need to be rules.”

He sighed. “Can one part of my life not have rules?”

I squeezed his hand. “Some rules can be fun.”

“Such as?”

“Well, rule number one could be keeping this”—I held up our joined hands—“a secret so I don’t get fired.”

He looked to the front of the van, his grip on my hand tightened. “No one’s firing you. I’ve told you that before. A few times, I think. Maybe rule number two could be that you have to listen when I say shit like that.”

I barked out a laugh. “Okay, sure. And like I’ve told you before, that’s not your call to make. So maybe you should listen to me.”

“Mmm, rule number three,” he said. “Roscoe cannot argue with Maddox.”

I snorted. “Rule number four. Roscoe will absolutely argue with Maddox.”

He smiled. “And Maddox will absolutely argue with Roscoe.”

“So we’ve established that some things won’t change. That’s good to know.”

“I don’t want things to change, between us, that is,” he whispered. He looked at our hands on his thigh and smiled. “I just want this as well. I want us to be us, how we always have been, only better. Or more, I don’t know. It’s been so long since someone held my hand or kissed me because they liked me. Like the real me. Not just the name.” He froze. “I mean, I’m not presuming you do, I just—”

I leaned over, cupped his cheek, and kissed him. I didn’t care that Steve could probably see. I should have cared, but in that moment, I cared more about Maddox.

I pressed my lips to his, soft and sweet, and kissed him once, twice. Not pushing for more, not trying to deepen the kiss, but to let him know I heard him. I put my forehead to his. “I see the real you,” I whispered.

He closed his eyes and his smile was so sad it damn near broke my heart.

“ETA, five minutes,” Steve called out.

I sat up straight in my seat in time to see Steve turn his head back to the front. If he’d seen us, I couldn’t tell. He thought Maddox and I were a thing before, so why should it matter? God, this was so confusing.

When I glanced back to Maddox, he was fixing his earring with an unreadable expression on his face. “Duty calls, huh?”

Ouch.

But I looked him right in the eye. “You know what? Yes, it does. If this”—I signaled between us—“is gonna be a thing, we need to deal with work us and private us. I mean it, Maddox.”

He pouted. “Private you is so much more fun.”

I glared at him until he rolled his eyes. I pulled my backpack onto my lap and took out the papers Ambrose had given me. “You need to read these. Everyone else has the same copies.”

He took them and read the first few lines, then shot me a look. “Are you kidding me?”

“Ambrose,” I said, by way of explanation.

“This is bullshit,” he said, reading. He quoted the heading out loud. “‘Proposed responses to possible questions regarding Maddox’s video upload onto a social media outlet.’” His gaze went to mine. “He can’t be serious.”

I shrugged. “You know how he is. These interviews today are one after the other. Six in total. They’re all going to ask, and you’re going to be sick of hearing about it after the second interview. It’s just to be prepared.”

He read through the list, rolled his eyes a lot, and grumbled under his breath even more. He sighed when he was done. “Can you believe he wanted me to release the song as a single? After he berated me like a school kid for not being a team player and thinking of the band, then in the very next breath he wanted me to go solo.”

“I think the reprimand was from him, the question about the solo song came from Arlo Kim.” I shrugged. “Just my guess.”

“Well, that shit pisses me off.” He held up the papers. “And so does this.”

“It’s just PR bullshit,” I offered.

The van slowed and I slung the backpack over my shoulder. “You ready?”

“Nope.” He shoved the notes at my chest, and while my hands were disposed, he took a hold of my face and kissed me. He half stood, bearing down on me, and shoved his tongue into my mouth. He kissed me for all he was worth. Demanding, hard, wanting.

He tasted sweet and warm, his tongue teased and claimed me, and I forgot where we were. I wanted so much to pull him onto my lap . . .

The van stopped and Maddox broke the kiss, his wet lips in a smug smile. “Now I’m ready.”

The door slid open and he climbed out, and I had to tell myself to get my ass into gear. My mind was swimming, my legs were like Jell-O, and I all but fell out of the van behind him. The smug son of a bitch laughed.

The interviews were being held at the Grammy Museum, which was great for photos and an iconic backdrop for all the interviews.

The first was with Billboard, so after a quick stint with make-up and hair, they were soon taking their seats. Between arriving and now, the boys had been busy, we’d been busy, so there was no close interaction between us except for him handing me stuff to look after or me handing him whatever he needed. I found myself staring at Maddox laughing with Jeremy, thinking how those lips, that mouth, his tongue, had been on mine just a short while ago . . .  It felt like a dream.

But then the interview started, and as there was no green room, per se, I stood at the back of the studio as far as I could. Where they couldn’t involve me in any answers.

“How did Maddox take the prepared questions and answers?” Amber asked quietly.

“Yeah, fine. He rolled his eyes a lot.”

After the interviewer had done the basic introductions and general hellos, he began with the most obvious question. “So, before we talk about the album or the tour,” he began. “Maddox, I wanted to ask about the song you uploaded on social media this morning. Millions of hits across all forms of social media. That must feel good, right?”

Okay, so it wasn’t so bad. There were a few prepared responses he could take from, and he did. The interview moved on, they did a photoshoot, and it all wrapped up nicely.

But the Access Hollywood interview that followed asked the same question. And he answered that from the scripted responses as well, just perhaps not as politely. There were more photos and more outfit changes, make-up and hair touch-ups.

Then the interviewer for All Access LA asked the same damn question. And then in the next interview, the Hollywood Entertainer asked about the song, and after that, then the interview with LA Daily did as well, and it was the final interview with Music Central that Maddox’s patience had run out.

“I have to ask about the song you uploaded, Maddox.”

“I bought a new guitar and was just playing around,” he said, still being diplomatic and polite.

“But those lyrics were aimed at someone, right?” the interviewer pushed. “‘Don’t make me choose between your lying and your leaving,’” he quoted. “‘How can I decide when it feels like my heart is breaking?’”

This time Maddox smiled. It wasn’t his handsome, playful smile. It was his ‘oh shit, what’s he going to say’ smile. “The lyrics speak for themselves,” he said calmly. “They mean whatever the listener interprets them as. The beauty of art is that it can be interpreted however a person needs.”

“That’s very true. But I think I speak for the millions of folks on Twitter when I ask, ‘Who hurt you?’”

Maddox’s smile was gone. “You think there’s a name behind those lyrics? Do you think I would tell you even if there was? Songwriters and artists just sometimes need to express something for no other reason than because they can. There doesn’t need to be a story behind it, and it doesn’t need to be public. We give enough of ourselves away without our personal lives being pulled apart for public consumption.”

Aaaaaaaand there it was.

Maddox Kershaw and his damn mouth.

That damn beautiful mouth that kissed me earlier . . .

“Oh fuck,” Ryan breathed beside me.

Maddox wasn’t done. “I can appreciate the interest, the hype on social media, but the song was just a song. I uploaded it as a gift to the fans because I thought they’d get a kick out of it. But no one is entitled to make a headline out of someone else’s trauma. Be it mine or anyone else’s. No one’s entitled to more than we freely give.”

The interviewer stared for a second but he recovered eventually and the conversation moved on. He didn’t ask Maddox anything else directly, and the other four guys carried on like nothing was out of the ordinary, answering questions and having a good time.

The interview wrapped up, and when it was over, ignoring all the interview staff, Maddox made a beeline for me and the other guys followed. They were over it and I didn’t blame them. We were mostly packed up, so in no time at all we were making our way through the museum to the exit where our vans would be waiting. “Sorry, guys,” Maddox said, talking to his bandmates. “But the ‘who hurt me’ comment was a red flag and that fucker knew it. There’s already been crazy talk and death-threats online, and that shit ain’t funny.”

Jeremy gave Maddox’s shoulder a squeeze. “We know.”

“Look on the bright side,” Wes said. “We’ve been doing this for what, six years? And in the last few years, you’ve said so much controversial shit in interviews that they stopped asking you about being gay.”

Maddox paused for a second before he laughed. “That’s really fucking true.”

“Remember when that was the question everyone asked?” Blake said. “Every damn interview.”

Luke snorted. “I really miss seeing the fear in an interviewer’s eyes as they got themselves ripped a new asshole on a live broadcast.”

Maddox’s smile faded and he let out a sigh. “Next time I decide to drop an impromptu song, someone can rip me a new asshole.”

“I would,” Jeremy said, grinning. “But you’d like it too much.”

Maddox shoved Jeremy into the wall, everyone laughed, and it was hard not to smile along with them when they joked around like that. Crude humor aside, when one of them was feeling bad, like Maddox was, they would comfort and joke until they felt better.

It was just how they were.

“Want me to ride with you again?” Jeremy asked Maddox as we were nearing the van.

“Nah, I’m good,” he replied. “I’m gonna call Ambrose so none of you guys have to sit through that. It’s the least I could do.”

“Okay. See ya at the studio.”

We climbed into the van and Maddox climbed through to the back again. I followed him, and the door slid closed behind us.

“Did you really want to speak to Ambrose?” I asked, sitting next to him.

“Hell no.” Maddox let his head fall back and he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. “He’s gonna kill me.”

“No he won’t,” I said. “He might want to kill you, but he won’t actually do it.”

Maddox chuckled and dropped his head to my shoulder. “Thanks.”

“I think they’ve come to expect a certain honesty from you. And part of me thinks Ambrose and Mr. Kim like it.”

“It just pisses me off that interviewers think they can say whatever the hell they want, like I’m not a person. The band persona is one thing, but we’re people too. I’m gonna call them out on that shit. Because if I don’t, who will?”

I took his hand and he sighed, rubbing the side of his face on my shoulder. “Thank you.”

“What for?” I asked.

“For just . . . being there, I guess.”

I squeezed his hand. “Anytime.”

He was quiet for a long moment. “I’m tired.”

“How about you try sleeping tonight instead of singing songs to me on the internet?”

His laugh was quiet, breathy. “How about you stay in my room and I’ll sing them to you in private.”

I hummed, though it sounded more like a groan. “Sounds like things might get complicated.”

“That wasn’t a no.”

I rested my cheek on his head. “No, it wasn’t.”

The restof the day passed in a bit of a blur. They had a session at a recording studio for an advertisement with Coca-Cola and then another interview, which was, thankfully, done back at the hotel.

Dinner was late and casual as we sat around the common room. The boys sat at the table; Amber, Ryan, and I sat at the opposite end of the room on the couches. I managed a few bites of food between fielding phone calls and emails and trying to keep an eye on the internet.

Sales were through the roof, charts were topped with no hint of slowing down, and the hype for Atrous was at an all-time high.

“Music Central’s interview just posted,” Ryan said.

Great.

And within half an hour, Maddox’s name was all over the internet, again, and his quotes, of course.

“We give enough of ourselves away without our personal lives being pulled apart for public consumption.”

“No one is entitled to make a headline out of someone else’s trauma.”

“No one’s entitled to more than we freely give.”

The interview had been edited to make the interviewer appear sympathetic, and how that was spun was anyone’s guess. It really was no wonder Maddox didn’t trust them.

Maddox’s face was plastered over every social media platform and every entertainment outlet around the freaking planet, it would seem.

“Well, on the bright side,” Amber deadpanned, “at least your herding-cats comment is long forgotten.”

I rubbed my temples. “God, wasn’t that a year ago?”

She laughed. “Feels like it.”

Maddox came over toward the door. “Roscoe, can we talk?”

“Um, sure,” I said, getting to my feet. I gave Amber and Ryan a shrug, pretending that I didn’t know what this was about. It was late and Maddox was tired. That was all I needed to know.

Maddox was waiting by the door, scrolling through his phone, and he looked up when I held the door for him. He didn’t speak while we walked down the corridor, and without explanation, he stopped at his door, and held it open for me.

His room had been cleaned, his bed made. His guitar lay on the table, his new black coat hung over the back of a chair.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No.” He threw his phone on the table and stepped in real close. “I keep thinking about how you were going to kiss me properly.”

Oh god.

“Is that right?” I asked. I could barely speak.

He smiled victoriously, sultry, and his eyes shone like black fire. “Kiss me, Roscoe. No almost-kiss, no teasing. Kiss me like you fucking mean it.”