Spruce, the eye of the hurricane.
And the hurricane’s starting to move again.
And do I really need another fucking storm metaphor?
“You alright?” asks Cole when I’m back on my feet. I literally don’t remember lowering myself to the floor. “You look freaked out a little. Hey, no shame. First time I talked my boyfriend into scaling this wall, he was trying to play it cool when he came back down, but I could feel him shaking all over the place—poor guy. I felt so bad.” He chuckles to himself. “Well, a little bad. Teeny bit. I was trying not to laugh. It’s just ‘cause he was trying so hard to look brave even when I got him back down …”
“Austin.”
I turn at the sound of TJ’s voice. He’s back from the restroom.
And he looks tense. “TJ? You okay?”
“We need to go.”
I can’t read anything on his face. A thousand things could’ve happened in that bathroom, from reuniting with some high school dickhead to getting a call from his mom that Banano was eaten by a coyote. “Burger not sittin’ well? Fries? Theywerekinda greasy.”
He answers neither question, only poking his head around me to say, “Thanks for helping out, Cole, but um, something came up, so we have to head out.”
“No worries.” Cole starts helping me out of the harness, eyes darting between us, likely trying to figure out what’s going on.
You and me both.
The second we leave the gym, TJ says, “They know.”
I frown. “Who knows?”
“Everyone.”
I can barely keep up with him as we reach his car. “Wait, what do you mean?” I ask over the hood, needing to be sure he’s saying what I think he’s saying. Then we’re inside the car, engine on, and TJ is already peeling out of the parking lot. “TJ, talk to me, please.”
“AJ said it looked fun and innocent at first,” he tells me as he whips way too fast around a corner, barely heeding a stop sign. “A set of pics are out there. Us at that restaurant we went to after the Houston show.”
Fuck me, I knew it. “TJ …”
“In one online group, the reaction is cute. People wondering who’s the lucky guy Chase Holt is seeing.”
“You’re gonna hit somethin’, slow down.”
He doesn’t. “Other groups … weren’t so sweet about it. I need to look up what a ‘groupie cum goblin’ is, though I can take a guess.”
“Your mom just warned us about deer, TJ, you’ve gotta slow down before—”
He more than slows down. He pulls to the side of the country road, slams the brakes, and stares ahead without blinking, fingers curled tightly around the steering wheel.
Then he asks, “Why do I get the feeling you knew about this?”
I shut my eyes. “I’m so sorry, TJ. I should’ve told you. I swear, I thought it was handled already, and … and I understand if you’re mad at me, but I swear—”
“Mad at you?” He turns to me. “I’m not mad at you, Austin.”
I look at him. “You’re not?”
It’s like the thought didn’t even cross his mind. “Why would I be mad at you? This isn’t your fault. It’stheirs. Why can’t they just be happy for you? They’re your fans! They love you!”
“Think you just answered your own question. They love me … just a tad too much at times.” I drop my head. “It’s how it always goes. They talk, speculate everything to death, make up their own story … Listen to me.” I meet his eyes and come closer, forcing my voice to stay steady. “This is how it always goes. I’ve been through this a couple times. It blows up fast, then burns out just as quickly. My team’s already on it.”
“Your team.”