1. Arik

Why does it feel like any time something good happens the universe kicks me in the balls? I should be celebrating, but instead, I'm in the bathroom of a club, stalking my girlfriend's social media.

Ex-girlfriend.

Two years of hard work on this album, and I can't even enjoy it.

Years of pouring everything I am into this band.

Into this record.

But all I can see is her nails dug into his back.

His lips on her neck.

Her blood moon lipstick smeared across his mouth.

It's impossible to be part of the Chicago music scene without knowing Nicole. She'd been a scene girl since high school. A fucking starstruck daydream. My nightmare.

The photos were plastered all over every website and gossip page. I can't un-see them. They were blurry, but I knew they were her.Everyone knew it was her. Part of me felt like she did this today on purpose. She hated the idea of me leaving.

"Will you come out of here and enjoy the night?" Serafin stood behind me, meeting my eyes in the mirror. He was our reluctant backup vocals. The shy guy who never meant to get famous but had the voice of an angel. The only way we got him to sing with me was if I agreed to be the only frontman. Serafin couldn't and wouldn't handle being the focus of tonight's event.

Most of the time, I didn't mind, but tonight, on the verge of a mental breakdown, I didn't know how to make myself.

I lifted my gaze to meet his in the mirror. "I can't."

"This is the nicest bathroom I've ever been in." Ser did a slow circle. He wore tight leather pants and a black Nirvana shirt. He had his red hair messy styled in that razor-cut emo way. He could be the poster boy for alternative, except for the auburn color, while mine was a different color depending on my mood and kept longer, half in my face.

"It is pretty sweet,"I admitted, still not processing that we were releasing an album with a major record label. This was our life now.

"Pretty sweet. What is this, marble? And there are mints and little individually folded hand towels. Do they have an attendant to come wipe your ass, too?" Serafin pushed his fingers into his hair, making it more sex hair than messy.

"Please don't subject a poor attendant to your ass. I think that's assault, even with an ass like yours."

Ser's mouth dropped open. "I've been told by more than one person today it's peachy in these leather pants. How do you know he wouldn't relish in the task?"

"Look at that." I got a coy smile, knowing he'd take the bait.

"This feels like a fucking trap, but I'm going to bite. What?" Ser asked.

"You're finally embodying singer energy by assuming everyone wants your ass." I grinned for the first time today.

He held up his middle finger, then softened. "You can't let all our hard work go to waste and let her ruin this for you."

I pressed my hands into the counter and let my head drop forward. "I can't face all those people, knowing they all fucking know."

"None of them care what she's doing." He came closer and wrapped an arm around me, resting his chin on my shoulder. "Let yourself have a good night. Mourn her cheating ass tomorrow."

"It's not just her." But he already knew the cement shoes preventing me from chasing my dreams. "That's a good line. I should write it down."

Ser shook his head, laughing. "Every time you say that, I want to ask you what, even after five years of friendship."

I pulled my notebook out of my front pocket, flipping open the worn cover to jot down the line.

"You got all that out of—" Ser looked over my shoulder. "I'm not falling for your trap. I'm on to you. You'll have me in this goddamn bathroom all night talking about our next album when we should be enjoying this one."

"Always gotta be writing," I repeated our familiar phrase at him. More like drowning my sorrows in ink. Fuck, that was another good line. I scribbled it without hesitation.

"No, I'll accept that as an excuse for ignoring everything else. Not tonight." He grabbed my arm, pulling me away from the sink. "And you promised to be the extrovert tonight, so I don't have to. I can't do this singer shit without you."

"I don't remember promising." I groaned, vaguely remembering agreeing.

"Don't you dare! When I agreed to try singing, you promised because I told you I cannot under any circumstances become the face of this band like all lead singers are, and you said, and I quote, ‘We have two singers. You won't have to be. I'll be the face. You just sing.' I told you that can't be done, but you promised me you would make it happen, and now you're hiding in the fucking bathroom!" Introvert panic shone in his eyes.

"Ugh."

"See, you remember!"

"Maybe a little."

"Come on, they are going to think you're doing a mountain of cocaine in here." He pulled me again.

"Who's got money for cocaine?" I laughed, letting him drag me out of the bathroom.

"Hopefully us soon!" he yelled over the music."But not if you don't become captain of this fucking ship. I'm going to run us aground."

"Kiernan told us you can't make your entire personality pirates." I reminded him of our manager's words.

"Kiernan can't control me." Ser looked around like he expected our manager to be standing over our shoulders, listening like a parent.

I tried to get my bearings while shifting into public persona mode.

Our record blared over the club speakers, and a thick haze obscured my view. Movements flashed, highlighted by strobe lights like when I used to pretend to rave in my parent's basement with my brother by flicking the light on and off. What a surreal feeling.

"Where are the guys hanging out?"I yelled, not sure what a frontman even did at a release party.

"No. We aren't going to hang out. You have to turn on your life-of-the-party persona and go network."

I cringed, remembering something Kiernan said about making good impressions on the execs. "I don't know what they want from me."

Ser lifted his hands, palms up. "Everyone likes you. Just be you."

I'm sure it looked like I could turn it off and on, but my mental health had always been a delicate balance of highs and lows, and it wasn't a switch. I didn't have any control of the flip. I'd give anything to be on top of the world right now and be the Arik everyone wanted. But Nicole's damn blood-red nails digging into skin overlaid my vision.

I shoved my hands into my hair, scrounging for any trace of that person I needed to be, buried under the avalanche of hurt and anger. But I couldn't even remember what it felt like to be that version of me, even when it had only been twelve hours since I was him.

Life doesn't slow down for my highs or lows.

Life goes on even when we don't want it to.

I found Kiernan. He'd done his best to prepare us for what to expect tonight, but my brain had put his words through the blender, so I just put a smile on my face and tried to channel Arik Vesper, the rock star.

Music execs decided how they felt about a musician in less than thirty seconds, so I couldn't fuck this up. He'd introduced me to a group of people. Their names were gone as fast as they said them, but I acted like I knew them all. We shook hands, and once we were past pleasantries, they asked me about my music, which was a much easier topic. I could talk about music all day. Kiernan gave me a small nod when we moved to another group of people. I'd passed the initial test.

It was exhilarating but draining to be on. The interactions were enthusiastic but shallow. Quick decisions.

"Why are you the coolest person in the room?" a gravelly voice caught my attention in a lull between conversations, coming from a dark corner.

"I play the part well. Fake it until you make it," I replied, trying to focus on the guy through the low light. He had his hood up, leaving his face in shadows.

"You convinced me, and I'm the most jaded motherfucker in this room." He sounded far too young to be an exec. But then who was the mysterious stranger?

I knew his voice from somewhere, but I couldn't place it. "What are you hiding from?"

He didn't answer for a long moment, and I almost thought he was giving me the cold shoulder. "Life. Everyone. I get overwhelmed at these things."

"What makes you come then? You someone important?"

He had to be someone to be here. But who?

"Some people think so, but that's not as important as you think." His tone was inviting, urging me closer.

I gave into the chemistry, immersing myself in the shadows. "I need more information."

"What kind of information?" Amusement colored his tone, bringing a smile to my lips.

"What side of the business are you on?"

"You mean talent or industry?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I should be offended you'd believe I could work on the side of the devil."

"My apologies." I laughed, and he turned toward me, leaning against the wall. "But it's hard to tell in a place like this." I hoped he wasn't really offended.

"You can't tell the difference between us and the suits? I'm wounded."

"I said I was sorry!"

"It's going to take more than an apology to make it up to me." The dark stranger lowered his voice, making me lean in to hear him.

"And how will I make it up to you?"

"Have a drink with me," he said close to my ear.

"Anything you want." I meant it. Whoever he was, I'd already decided I wanted to know him.

He made a tsk sound. "You give away far too much, far too easily, but—since it benefits me—I'm going to allow it."

"Allow it?"

"You heard me." He shoved off the wall, straightening to stand a few inches taller than I was. He had to be six three or four. His height wasn't imposing but confident with a lean build. He slipped his first and middle finger into the hood and pulled it back, bringing his features into view.Between the scar from the bottom corner of his left eye to the right side of his chin and his golden shoulder-length hair, there was no mistaking him.

I stifled a gasp. No wonder he'd worn his hood up.

Varian St. James. Only a villain had a name like that. Or a rock star.Everyone in this room would recognize him immediately.He was even more beautiful and harsh in person, which said something because the guy had a helluva stage presence and a reputation as a cold dick.

Why was he even here? His band Dopamine-Fiend was everything mine aspired to be. They'd just come off a massive tour with Death Nostalgia, and the rumor was that they were working on another album and an arena tour.

"You don't have to—" he started when I didn't say anything.

I shook my head before I found my voice, not letting him finish. "No—I take making amends very seriously. A drink is the least I can do."

His lips curled, pulling at the unnaturally white skin of the scar, revealing the signature crooked smile he'd had since he was a child. His parents were famous musicians, and he grew up in the spotlight.

Rumors said it happened at a party thrown by his parents, when he was six years old. A party he had no place being at, but no one knew the details of when or where it happened because it had been covered up and he hadn't been seen in public for years after.

"What do you fancy?" he asked, leveling me in a stare.

"Anything."

He tilted his head. "Not too young to drink, are you?"

"I'm twenty-one."

"A baby."

I scoffed. "Only a couple of years younger than you, I bet."

"Three, but every year in this industry ages you ten, so you're a sweet summer child compared to my ancient ass." He winked.

"Does that make you, like, two hundred and fifty? Are you a vampire or something?"

"Why? Want me to suck your blood?" The amusement reached his eyes this time.

"I'm not saying no…"

He shook his head, full of amusement or so I hoped, and nodded for me to follow him. A few people tried to stop Varian but he begged them off with a finesse that wasn't rude and left them wanting more. He had to be expert at this networking game, so why had he been hiding in the corner?

I'd heard he hated being the center of attention, but would anyone really choose this life if they hated every part of it? I found it draining but exhilarating when I wasn't hating myself; I enjoyed all the parts that came with it.I loved people consuming my art. Fans dancing in the crowd, screaming lyrics at the top of their lungs. The attention. The traveling, though we hadn't done much of that yet.

The bartender stopped in his tracks, starstruck. I leaned on the polished wood top, observing the interaction. He gushed over Varian for a minute before asking for his order.

"Jack and coke." He looked at me.

"Same."

The bartender did a double take. "This is your album, right?" He pointed at the ceiling.

"That's right."

"Cheers. It's damn good. You two friends?" he asked as he made our drinks.

Varian glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes. "I think so. I'll get back to you after the ritual."

"Ritual?" I asked with half a laugh. "Is there a blood vow, too?"

Varian leaned in. "Only if you insist."

"Then I insist," I said before I considered the meaning or implication. My chest stirred.

"I thought I was a vampire. Am I a witch now?"

"Can't you be both? Let's keep it kinky."

His lips pulled against the unevenness from his scar as he smiled. "I think this friendship is going swimmingly, don't you?" he asked the bartender as he accepted the drink.

The bartender laughed, smiling at Varian like he put the stars in the sky. "If you want a third wheel…"

"I'll let you know," Varian said before glancing around.

"Who do you have left to talk to?"

I brought my drink to my lips, running through all the faces and names. "I lost track. It's getting late." I didn't want to go schmooze anyone else. I wanted to be here with Varian.

"Would you want to go find someplace more quiet? The lights are starting to give me a migraine." The glint in his almost black eyes looked hopeful.

"Where?"

He resumed his scan of the room and then turned on me. "I'm kidnapping you."

"Isn't it kinda against the point to tell me?"

"Right." He snapped. "Good point." He slapped his hand on the bar. "If I give you a twenty, would you slip me that bottle?"

"Hey, it's a free bar." The bartender weighed it, then set the mostly full bottle on the counter. "If you take it, I saw nothing."

Varian took out his wallet and stuffed a twenty into the tip jar before swiping it. "Come on."

I followed him toward the back of the joint and out the doors into the crisp February night. "We're leaving?"

"We can't talk in there. I can't even think with the lights and the music." He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, inhaling deeply.

Maybe it was the worst idea to leave my own party, but Varian drew me in. I wanted more.

"So, to gain clarity, we'll freeze to death?" I pulled my jacket tighter.

"Always a tradeoff." He walked toward the lake, and because I clearly had no sense of self preservation, I followed. "But it will be worth it."

"Is this the blood ritual or the secret friendship stuff?" I shoved my hands into my pockets.

"It can be both."

I laughed. "You're not going to sacrifice me, are you?"

"Only if you ask nicely." He shot me a glance.

"Please, Varian, please."

He groaned and shook his head, lips twisting into a smirk. "Don't tempt me! We don't know each other well enough for me to reveal my kinks to you yet."

"Yet? You say that like there will be more."

Varian stopped and assessed my figure. "So much more. But we have to get to know each other first."

The idea was intoxicating.

"Then let's get to know each other."

He stared into my eyes. "I'd like that. How do we start?"

I held out my hand for the bottle. "A drinking game. Take a drink and say something about yourself. I'll start." I tipped the bottle to my lips. "You made the night a whole lot better."

His blond brow arched. "That's not really about you, but I'll take it. Was it going badly?"

"It wasn't—this is a facts game. Follow-up questions require a drink as well." I held out the bottle.

"Oh, so that's how we're playing?"

I nodded.

He tipped the bottle to his lips. "Answer."

"I had a shit night. My girlfriend—" I cut myself off. He didn't need the details. "It doesn't matter."

"No, say what you were going to say."

I motioned for him to drink, and when he did, I spoke. "Pictures of my girlfriend cheating on me are all over the internet."

"Fuck." He cringed. "She did that to you tonight?"

"Yep." I reached for the bottle, not wanting to focus on it. "You're up."

He took a long drink before passing it to me. "My grandparents don't want me in this business at all. They think it ruined my mom."

"Shit. That got deep fast."

"I couldn't go light after what you said! Fuck. Imagine following up you sharing a part of your soul with: my favorite color is orange."He ran his hand through his hair, looking like a young Kurt Cobain in this light.

"Okay, I guess you've got me there." I grabbed the bottle and took a swig before asking what I wanted to know. "Is that who you lived with after…" I felt bad as soon as the words were out of my mouth. What kind of asshole asks about a guy's dead parent?

"Before. It was after my—accident. I went to live with them full time and they tried to have me do anything else, but I guess with two musicians as parents I don't know anything else." Varian lifted his shoulders.

"How'd you get into the business with them trying to prevent it?"

He gestured at me to drink for my question. "My brother and I were little shits and started playing on street corners in Brooklyn. Since we have the St. James last name, people took notice fast. And I'd like to think we weren't half bad."

I made a show of taking a drink. "My parents are similar. They want me to be a lawyer. I think they love and hate that I got a record deal. They still want me to apply to law school for when this doesn't work out."

"They said that?"

I put a finger under the bottle and pushed it to his lips. "Not in so many words."

He took the hint as astonishment hardened his face. "Is this not success to them?"

"Hardly. I don't know how to tell them I have to take a semester off to do Warped." We turned down a random street, and the water came into view. No wonder it was so cold. The wind off Lake Michigan cut to the bone. "They are going to lose their shit."

"They'll get over it. Or at least my grandparents did." He stared out across the dark water. "Sorry for bringing down the mood even further." He made a face while side-eyeing me.

"I don't take apologies. Only amends!" I threw his words back at him playfully.

The inquisitive brow returned. "What do you want?"

I could have asked anything, but I didn't want to come off as the nosy asshole, and I thought I saw some vulnerability flicker through his face, so I went in a different direction. "What made you go so deep?"

He didn't answer right away. "You don't get to know anyone with surface-level crap. I'd rather know real stuff. Skip the small talk. I don't trust a lot of people, but I'm tired of the shallow relationships this industry is full of."

"I'm so new to it. I guess I haven't seen that part of it yet." I took a seat on the seawall.

"You do; you just haven't put it together yet. Your girlfriend is Nicole?" He took a seat next to me and set the bottle between his knees.

I was glad he didn't pass it back because I was on my way to not being able to walk back to the club. "How'd you—you've seen the pictures?"

"Everyone is talking about it." His mouth pulled into a line like he felt bad.

"I guess you're right." I tried not to let it sink in just how far her betrayal reached. "Is your favorite color really orange?"

"It is. Got a problem with that?"

"No, but I do want to know why." I reached between his knees to take the bottle. Maybe not being able to walk wouldn't be the worst way for this night to end.

"That's a question, not a fact." He snagged the bottle back.

"Let's switch to asking questions."

"Bet." He poured Jack into his mouth. "The road changes you. Everyone talks about sunsets, but no one is awake for the sunrise unless you're on tour. Because sunset happens when you're in the venue already, we don't see them, but we do see sunrises. I love the first morning light. It reminds me I'm alive. Of the beauty in the world. It reminds me to stop and take a breath. That after all the shit I've been through, it's still worth being here…" He trailed off.

"Fuck," I whispered.

"Sorry." He put on a forced smile.

"No, don't apologize. I didn't think we could go even deeper, but you proved me wrong. That was beautiful." I searched his face, hoping he didn't take it the wrong way.

"Artists see the world differently." He shrugged. "Is Nicole the reason you were in the bathroom half the night?"

"You saw that?"

He nodded carefully. "I didn't mean to. I walked in on you talking to Serafin. I left quickly so you didn't catch me."

"She's big on the tit for tat, and I think she's mad at me for accepting Warped, so she wanted it to hurt." The more I talked about Nicole, the more of an idiot I felt like.

"Cruel." He rubbed his fingers over his scar. "I've had a few of those in my life."

I wondered if he remembered the accident every time he touched the marred skin. "How did it happen?" The words were out before I could cut them off.

He went quiet, and I panicked. I didn't want to scare him off or make him stop talking.

"I'm sorry?—"

He cut me off with a wave of his hand. "Don't be. Maybe you're brave or stupid, but you're the only one who's asked."

"No one asks? Not even your friends?"

"I don't have a lot of friends." He turned toward the lake almost in a dismissal."I spend a lot of time with my brother and the band."

"Not any from school?"

"My grandparents got us tutors after it happened because they live in Brooklyn, and it's worse than a small town there. Those neighborhoods are tight-knit and gossip like old housewives. Plus, by the time high school hit, we were already all sorts of behind after being on tour with my parents. Maybe we should have gone back, but we were too into making music and getting a following." He paused for a second. "And it's not like my dad is any less famous. It would have been hell."

"I get it. My parents are second-generation immigrants. Their community is the same. It's why they care so much about law school. I'm, like, letting them down if I don't make something of myself."

"Isn't this making something of yourself?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same?" I returned.

He lifted his shoulders. "It is, but to them, it's too tainted by my mother's death and my father's—" He waved a hand in the air. "General existence. So I don't think they'll ever see this as a good choice for Vallen and me. But if I stay away from drugs and create art that lasts, maybe they'll see it's not such a bad thing."

I nodded, understanding how my extended family would have acted under the same circumstances. "I get it. We have that in common. Maybe I should give up now and go be a lawyer."

"Could you?"

I shook my head. "No. I wouldn't survive it." I stepped up alongside him, watching the waves move across the lake. "Could you?"

"No, I have to do this." His tone held a determination and pride that told me he would make it. "I want to know something."

"What?" I asked, turning to look at him.

"Let me answer yours first." He didn't meet my eyes, continuing to look over the water.

"Which?" I couldn't remember him not answering one of mine.

"About what happened to my face."

"You don't have to," I said quickly. "It wasn't cool of me to ask."

"No, I do."