Moment(s)

  “Put me down.” She tosses her head back, her hair tickling my arm, and laughs heartily. “I feel sorry for you!”

  “Sweet, sweet Emilie, of course I’ll go home with you to meet your family, but I hope you know the next step is adopting a dog together.” When I set her on her feet, she tilts backward, and I reach out to keep her from falling.

  “You’ve met my parents already, and ‘just friends’ don’t adopt anything together.” She skelps at my shoulders.

  Och! Will I ever be out of the friend zone? In the few days she’s been with me, we’ve got that closeness back that we had from the all-nighter, but not near what I want. I want to kiss her so bad sometimes that it’s hard to see anything else. Emilie’s a great girl to hang out with, cuddle to a movie, cut up with the boys…she fits right in. So much that I haven’t got a scooby what I’m going to do when the tour is over. Mid-December. I think she’d come home to London with us, but I’m afraid to ask. What if she says no? I’d rather keep considering her a permanent fixture.

  Doug pops his head in the door. He lifts his chin and says, “Julian, we need a decision about Alexandria. We have less than two weeks to prepare already.”

  Emilie leans forward to where he can see her. “Julian’s coming with me.”

  He gives us a curt nod. “We leave for the arena in five.” He smiles before moving on.

  She raises her eyebrows. “I’m guessing Uncle Doug is coming with us?”

  No relation, but she already knows this. “Aye.”

  “How did you two get so close?”

  Let’s see. He’s always spent time with me—taken the time to show me things, explaining security stuff that’s going on. Staying up with me when my brain won’t shut down many, many nights. Being friendlier than the other minders. I hate being alone, and Doug tuned in to that early on and actually cared when the rest of the security team either didn’t care or didn’t know.

  I shrug. “He’s just helped me through some rough nights.”

  “Eeek!” Emilie squeals as I grab her from behind and toss her to the bed.

  She gets to her feet, the mattress making her wobble. “Are we ready to go, or are you going to keep pretending you’re stronger than me?”

  “What’s this ‘we’ you’re going on about?” Yesterday, she went to our choreography practice and covered her eyes for almost every stunt. “If you can’t stand watching us practice in the gym, what makes you think you’re not going to flip out at rehearsals?”

  The equipment at the arenas is held up with a system of cords and chains in order to make them more stable than a portable bar system. Plus, it keeps us from running into the posts while we’re tumbling. Our brand of gymnastics isn’t exactly the tamest sort anymore. Actually, if we ever wanted to try for the Olympics again, we probably wouldn’t be welcomed with open arms.

  “I saw your rehearsal last night.” She tucks her dark hair behind her ear and hops off the bed.

  “Really?” I’d thought she was in the back, doing coursework.

  She pulls a sheepish grin. “Kinda. I didn’t look sometimes. Maybe there should be more mats on the floor.”

  I reach for her hands. “Emilie, we’ve done this a long time.”

  She nibbles her lips, and my stomach is still no better at dealing with this. “The way you four are crossing over each other in the air sometimes. It’s just—Jagged Black is so popular. Why not just make music?”

  “Because every other person has a decent voice nowadays and they’re on YouTube, Keets…we have to be different.” And what no one would ever understand except Kasen, I’m a gymnast first. Music is second. My lips curl up—I can’t say I’m put off by her concern, though. I wrap my arms around her and give her a squeeze. “I’m fine, Emilie.”

  We get to the arena (supposedly the biggest in Nebraska) thirty minutes later, but can’t get out of the van for fifteen more minutes. Typical. There are security checks to be done and we have to get around the fans. They’re lined up already even though it’s only nine in the morning.

  “At least they’ll get to see you tonight.” Emilie peers through the window while we wait. “Doug better be glad it’s a full moon or I wouldn’t listen to him.”

  A superstitious bonnie lassie, she is. With her heightened threat level, security mentioned she might want to stay back. There are always death threats, but these must be quite alarming. It happens. A few weeks ago, Luke couldn’t go to a theme park because of some sort of threat.

  Supposedly, he looked at the camera too much in one of our videos; therefore, he was trying to program people to do his bidding with the lyrics. Ha! It was a dance track.

  Emilie grabs my thigh when the van jerks and rolls forward. She sucks on her lip and pulls her hand away. My gaze stays on her pink cheeks.

  “Totes,” someone says, full of sarcasm.

  I jerk my head around to find Parker grinning at me. He laughs.

  What? Just because you move at the pace of a cheetah in your love life. And I have a lot of work to do to get through to Emilie. Either she really misses this boyfriend (something I’m doubting more and more), or she feels guilty about possibly moving on. Not that she tells me anything like that. When it comes to that subject, she shuts it down.

  Just as we pull up to the back door, Emilie groans and drops her mobile to her lap. Her dark blue eyes meet mine. “Shane won’t be at home for Thanksgiving.”

  “Shane?”

  She lets out an exasperated sigh. “My cousin. Remember, the one who cut my hair while I was sleeping.”

  Luke laughs. “And you’re disappointed he’s not coming?”

  “You have no idea what I did as revenge.” She wiggles her eyebrows then gets serious again. “But he didn’t come home for the summer because he got a job at some media place beside his college, so I thought for sure he’d go home for Thanksgiving.”

  I thread my fingers through hers. “He’s at university, yeah? Maybe we can go there after.”

  “It’s in Oregon,” she says. And waits. Oh, Oregon must be truly out of the way. “Julian, it’s way northwest.”

  “Emilie, didn’t you know?” Parker shakes his head at her and makes a makes a tsking sound.

  She blows her hair out of her face. “What?”

  “We’re your family now.” He shrugs. “Forget about silly people who won’t make time for you.”

  We jerk to a stop at the back of the arena in a fenced-in car park. Everyone unloads before more can be said about her cousin.

  After three different passageways, we’re finally at the stage. Us lads peel our shirts off and head to the equipment. Parker readjusts the mats while the rest of us chalk up. Luke pops up onto the pommel horse, leaping from it and onto the still rings. Kasen takes the parallel bars, and Parker is eventually doing spindles on the pommel horse.

  Every time Luke swings around, his legs just about skim Parker’s head.

  “Luke, tuck it in or you’re going to mess up Parker’s lovely locks.” The older brother cackles while Ben, the set assistant, takes a tentative step forward.

  He learned the hard way that we like to decide this part ourselves. Only the four of us know the limits we’re willing to push, so no one moves anything without our call, and no one interferes in our routine.

  “Hey, Ben,” I say and keep my eyes on the lads’ movements. “The pommel horse needs to be moved about four centimeters stage left.”

  He bustles over with two others and waits for Parker to hop off so they can move the thick resin equipment.

  Kasen drops back and lets me use the parallel bars to propel myself through the air. Arching to the left, I’m flying until my hands collide with the horizontal high bar. A cloud of powder puffs out when my fingers close around the fiberglass.

  I hear Kase take the parallel bars again, and I tense, hoping we don’t collide. Parker rests his fists on his hips and waits a second, then, “You’re good.”

  “Music,” Kase calls out. A few seconds later the bass mix com
es through the speakers that flank the stage.

  Luke gets into full swings on the still rings.

  Gripping my high bar, I furl myself over it and swing up, not extending my legs all the way. I’m the tallest of all of us, so if anyone is going to collide with Kase, it’ll be me. I look out for Parker’s approval. He gives me the thumbs up, and I stretch out and enjoy the ride. My muscles sting, the good kind of pain that shoots energy through my body.

  “Calling it,” Parker’s shout echoes through the empty arena. “Three, two, one—Go.”

  I swing my legs and get ready to arc them to the side of Luke’s. Whoosh, we clear each other, but the breeze coming from our passing puts chill bumps on my legs.

  And I hear a panicked gasp from in front of us. Ah, Emilie.

  “Music needs to be louder.” Kase heard her too.

  It does look scary. We play back our videos all the time to see where we can improve. The more it looks like we’re going to hit each other, the more visually appealing. Parker finds the most wicked stunts, which makes him our biggest choreographer for each tour. There are usually a few fractured toes and every once in a while a messed-up ankle until we get it just right. Sure it’s risky, but risky looks cool.

  Aye, Emilie thinks that looked scary. Luke meets my eyes after one rotation, his hands vibrating in the still rings under his weight, mine gripping the horizontal high bar. We stay upside down, our legs stretched out above us for two beats. He nods and I rotate backward, letting go of the bar after half a rotation. Luke passes me in the air, and I wince as I imagine Emilie flipping out down below. Luke has left the still rings swinging a little, and I have less than a second to consider how I’m going to put my hands in them. Right, one to the side and the other straight through.

  Done.

  After six full swings on the still rings and a one-armed turn, the racing beat of the music signals it’s about time to take Luke’s place again. We aren’t switching, though. I’m the only one who’s dumb enough to leap for the still rings. Luke will go to the parallel bars, and Kasen will start tumbling, stopping when he reaches his drum kit.

  One, two, three—Go. I thrust away from the rings; this time I’m a rotating spindle, holding my arms to my chest while I twist through time, space, air. I’m weightless. My back is to the arena, facing the arena, and back again. Now, looking at the black ceiling, my arms tense. I should be passing under the horizontal high bar Luke just left at any minute. This is always tricky since I never know if Luke made it off the bar yet or not. Soaring through the air like I’m lying on my back in a bed, I’m blinded to what and who I’m flying to. I just have to trust. And this is also when I’ll know if I released the still rings at the right time. If not, the top of my head will bang into the bar instead of going under it.

  The fiberglass lifeline passes in front of my eyes. Another puff of powder floats in the air when I grab the bar. My legs are still going with the momentum. I grip the bar harder for when they’re jolted into a reverse direction. My joints tense, getting ready for what’s equal to whiplash on my knees and hips.

  Instead of pain, white and sparkling elation surges through me. My scalp tingles. Every muscle stings as I swing my legs ahead of me.

  Kasen hits the drums and rattles off a riff. Yeah, we’re definitely different. Our drummer is our best singer. But he’s the only one who knows drums, so his biggest singing moments come when we’re still on the equipment.

  Chapter 8

  The next week of planning our trip is great fun. Even if it is only a two-day, it still feels couple-ish. The countdown to our holiday is short, and before I know it the two of us are boarding the plane to Washington D.C. I can’t fight my massive grin while Doug and the two other guards give us a wide breadth, making it feel even more like it’s just me and Emilie on a normal holiday. We barely notice the camera flashes when we debark hours later at our destination.

  Once we’re at the main airport terminal, Emilie takes off, an excited squeal trailing behind. “Shane!”

  Either his plans changed, or it was a lie all along so he could surprise her. And her parents had to be in on it for him to know when we’d land.

  A thousand clicks resound through the passageway.

  And the cameras are flashing on Emilie excitedly hugging her cousin. I wince at what I know the paps are about to make a big deal of. They turn their cameras on me before I’m able to put the blank expression back on. It’s not good. None of it. They don’t understand Shane is her cousin. All they see is a boy hugging my Emilie—and me supposedly unhappy about it. I don’t have to wonder how the media will spin this story.

  She might’ve been left alone had I stayed away.

  Someone prods me from behind. “We’re going left at the next passageway,” Doug says.

  In the car, Emilie and Shane catch up. Emilie rubs her hands over his almost-skint head… again. Evidently, he used to have a massive amount of hair.

  “What made you decide to do that?” she asks.

  He grins, his eyes almost disappearing behind his freckled cheeks. I try to smile along with them, but can’t manage it. My insides feel like rubber bands, jumping and vibrating at every new thought.

  “A preemptive strike,” he says with a laugh. “It won’t do you any good to zoom a razor over my head now.”

  “You’re not serious.” She leans back and eyes him.

  “No.” He scratches his head. “I just wanted a change.”

  Doug twists around in the seat ahead of us. “Shane, the plan is to go straight to Hotel Charis. Do you need a ride from there?”

  Shane’s face turns from jolly to serious, like he’s intimidated by my main minder. “Yes, sir.”

  The tires hum, Emilie and Shane chatter, and my mind cringes. A simple hug is going to create a big, stupid, misleading buzz. I’m jealous of her ignorance.

  “Really?” Shane turns to me. “What do you use?”

  I look him and Emilie over for a sign of what he’s talking about. No, I’ve no clue. “Use on what?”

  Shane tosses his head and smiles. “Em says that you draw.”

  “Charcoal,” I say, and so commences a discussion on art and our subjects—Shane is studying graphic arts.

  “That’s real solid of you,” he says about me giving concert-goers the pictures I draw of them. “I can’t let anything of mine go until I have at least a week to stare and it. But how come this isn’t a big thing? You’d think these people would brag about their drawings.”

  “Because I ask them not to mention it?” My mobile buzzes. “When they do, and sometimes it does happen, then it just makes the whole experience…odd.”

  “Right, I know exactly what you mean.” Shane nods and looks at me intensely. “It’s an intimate thing to draw someone’s face. Like, now you have a friend for life.”

  “I never forget a face.”

  By the time we get to the hotel, my fingers are itching to check my mobile for what stories the media are bandying about.

  “Turkey day tomorrow,” Shane says when Emilie and I pile out.

  “Yes, don’t be late.” Emilie lightly punches his arm when he gets out of the car and leans against it.

  I reach out my hand to shake his. His mouth curls and he pulls me in for a manly one-armed hug. “I wasn’t too sure about you at first,” he says, “but I have a feeling you’re actually an okay dude.”

  My heart twists at his obvious trust. How can he know that Emilie’s going to be called a slut again, and it’s going to be my fault?

  Her eyes are gleaming when she gives him one last hug.

  “Your room or mine?” Emilie asks when we step into the lift.

  It’s become the norm—we always hang out in either her room or mine until we’re both tired enough to sleep. Only tonight, there’s no risk of interruption from the other lads. I wonder if she’s thought about the difference yet.

  “I’m too keyed up,” I say. It’s the first night since she has been with us that I might need a sleeping
pill. As much as I wanted to know earlier about what was being written, I really don’t want to know now.

  “How about a swim?” she asks as the lift stops and doors open. “The pool is heated.”

  Hopefully, I have swim trunks. “Sounds good.”

  Doug stops us after we’ve walked only a couple of meters. “This is you, Jules.”

  “I made sure Joe packed your swimsuit.” Her dark blue eyes focus over the door of my room and mouths the number: six fifty-two. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  But Doug makes her wait while he checks out my room then follows her to hers.

  Fifteen minutes later, I’m coming out of the lavatory in my swim trunks when I hear the room door click.

  I look over in time to catch Emilie trying to sneak in. Her sly smile drops when she sees me. “I was going to scare you.”

  I cannae help but laugh.

  “Fair enough.” I hold my hands out at my sides. “Go ahead and try.”

  “How’s this?” She takes my hands and threads her fingers through mine. “My room is six sixty-five. I’m right across from room number six sixty-six.”

  My eyes widen and I don the sufficient horror face. “Egad!”

  She laughs. “But don’t worry. They’re switching my room to the one beside yours while we’re swimming.”

  With a sigh, I pull her to me for a cuddle. “You saved the day.”

  There’s something hot on my chest. Then pain. I jerk back. “What—You bit me!”

  “That’s for making fun of me.” She giggles and takes off out of the room, and I’m right behind her.

  I hear a groan behind us and footfalls soon after. Ha, Doug.

  “Dammit, Jules. Wait!”

  “Emilie, hold up,” I call out as she reaches the lift. When I twist around, I spot Doug, towels draped around his neck. Och, I forgot towels. Ah, fash. Doug is always thinking of me, and I haven’t spent near the time with him that I used to. Before Emilie, I could’ve said he was a great mate, second only to Kasen. Luke and Parker following after. Doug used to be the last one standing at night when everyone else had given in and gone to bed.