13. Chapter Thirteen

The week was nearly over when I received an unexpected phone call from Paul, the agent handling my music career. I'd been playing cards with Matty on the deck, some game I couldn't pronounce and didn't really understand the rules to, when my phone rang. Seeing that it was my agent, I slipped inside to talk in private.

"Hello?" I tapped the speaker button so I'd be able to hear better and began to pace Matty's small apartment.

"Jared, good. I'm glad I caught you. How have you been?"

"Good. I'm in Norway right now."

"Right, the show. How's filming going?" I'd spoken to Paul before leaving the country to explain that I was going on the show with Matty, and when I mentioned how I thought it would help my career, he'd been all for it.

"It's going really well, I think. We're done filming for now. They'll get more footage of me at the airport tomorrow, but the rest of the show will be recorded when Matty comes to the States. Assuming his visa gets approved, that is."

"And when will that be?"

"Soon, we hope. Normally the visa can take several months to be approved, but with the show's backing, it's usually much quicker."

"Good, good." He was quiet for a moment, and the sound of his pen tapping against his notebook rattled through the line.

"Paul, did you need something?" It wasn't like Paul to not be as direct and to the point as possible, and worry started gnawing at my gut.

"I wanted to let you know we've booked you a few shows. Now don't get excited. It's not a big tour or anything. You'll be the opener for the opener, and only for a partial leg, but it's something. The headliner is Young Spades."

"Didn't they tour with Boyfriend of the Loveless a while back? I wouldn't say Young Spades isn't a big one. That feels huge."

"It's a good shot to get yourself out there, that's for sure. What have you been doing to show off your skills on the show?"

I cleared my throat. It felt like such a lie no matter how I sliced it. Telling him I'd done it for the show wasn't true, not really. I'd wanted Matty to know how I was feeling. My gut felt twisted in knots over the way I was presenting the whole incident. "I had an impromptu solo performance for my fiancé. I grabbed a guitar from a street musician and played for Matty in the town square. It drew a good-sized crowd, I have to say."

"Excellent job. I knew you'd do something fantastic for us while you were out there. This exceeds expectations, honestly, Jared. Well, I won't keep you. I just wanted to let you know about the tour. We'll hammer out the details when you get home, okay?"

"Thanks, Paul."

The line disconnected and I stared at the silent phone in my hand for a second.

"The song wasn't really for me, then, was it? It was just for the show?"

My blood ran cold. I turned to find Matty standing behind me, a forced smile on his face and hurt in his blue eyes.

"I—that's not what I said."

He shook his head. "It's okay. I don't have any right to—"

I held up a hand to stop him. "You have the right to feel however you feel."

He pressed his lips together in a hard line and nodded, quiet for a few moments before speaking softly. "I guess I just misinterpreted things between us."

"How can you think that, after what we've been doing at night?"

"Then what was that call about?"

"Matty, please…" My voice broke on the last word. "We both know that being on this show is… we both had ulterior motives when we signed up. You wanted the visa for work. I wanted exposure for my music career. But that doesn't mean what I said wasn't real or what we're doing isn't real. It doesn't mean what I'm feeling isn't real." I reached a hand for him and tangled his fingers in mine.

"So how do you feel about me?"

My throat was thick. "I—I really care about you. I want to be with you, as more than friends, and see where this goes. I don't want to lose you."

He looked down at our entwined fingers. "Okay," he murmured.

"Okay?"

Matty looked up and met my eyes, smiling softly. "Ja, okei."

"What does that mean?"

"I guess it means I have a boyfriend."

I couldn't stop the smile from breaking out on my face. "I like the sound of that."

"Me too."

We stayed up half the night holding each other and talking about the future, about what it was going to be like when Matty came to America. I told him more about my friends, about how I was the last of them to get married, about how so many of us had started with fake relationships that turned real, and it seemed ours was headed the same way. Matty smiled and laughed at all the appropriate moments, and when I came to the last part about the fake relationships turning real, he kissed my bare arm and murmured how much he hoped that would be true for us, too.

The next morning, we woke early for the train trip to Oslo Airport, where I'd catch a flight back to the States. Neither of us was quite as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as we had been to wake the other days, and I found that we each were dragging things out little by little, starting with a steamy shower, until we were nearly running behind schedule. We scrambled to fill the suitcase I'd bought as a backup—mine never had been found—and made sure I didn't forget anything.

We met with Brock and Steve at the pickup and drop-off entrance, where Steve briefed us on what he wanted to get on film—a heartfelt goodbye, bonus points for passionate kissing, double bonus points for tears. We promised we'd do our best, my gut twisting sickeningly when I thought of having to say goodbye.

Once we'd been briefed, Steve practically shoved us toward the security line, in front of which we'd say goodbye to each other.

I took both of Matty's hands in mine, holding them firmly. "God, I'm going to miss you." It was the most honest thing I could think of to say. "I can't wait until you come to the States. For good."

Matty ducked his head and nodded shyly. "I know. Me too. Hopefully my visa will come through soon, right?"

"Hopefully," I echoed. I leaned in and we kissed tenderly, lips and tongues moving slowly, Matty's hand in my hair, my hand gripping his back. As we kissed, moisture fell onto my cheeks. When I pulled back, Matty's blue eyes were filled with tears.

"I really am going to miss you too," he whispered. "More than you know."

"I love you." It felt weird and foreign coming out of my mouth, even though we'd said it many times before in a platonic way, but I had no choice. I couldn't not say it for the cameras, but considering how we were in a newly developing relationship, it almost felt too soon to say in that context.

"I love you too." Matty's smile looked tense and he took a shaky breath. "You'd better hurry before you miss your flight."

I kissed him once more. "Soon, okay?"

"Soon."

"Cut," Steve called, and we both looked at him. "That was good. Jared, don't miss that flight home or production really will have my ass."

I nodded and squeezed Matty's hands. "Bye."

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, and nodded. "Bye."

And with that, I was gone. We let each other's hands go, I stepped into the security line, and I waved before Steve cornered Matty, had Brock point the camera at him, and I watched as Matty answered interview questions I couldn't hear.

On the flights home, I wallowed in my own sorrow, missing Matty more and more with every mile put between us. I had a gnawing feeling that I might never see him again, even if I knew it wasn't likely to be true. Truth be told, we were still waiting on the government to approve his visa. It could come at any time or it could be denied at any time. I didn't want to think about what we'd do if it was denied. I opened my notebook and worked on a new song.