CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

S ebastian

It’s over. It’s ruined.

I fling over the exit door of the high school, and an alarm starts to blare.

Shit.

Well, they’re going to know I made it out of the building.

Incompetently, of course.

I can only imagine what Bryce is saying now. What jokes he’s making.

And Luke...

God.

He liked me. I was sure of it.

But how can he feel anything except disappointment and disgust now? What must Bryce be saying in my absence? Will Luke feel I manipulated him? Hosts aren’t supposed to go after dating contestant leads on their shows.

What was I thinking?

The world is blurry. A sea of gray that smudges together. Great. I’m crying. Hot tears prickle my eyes, and I blink, trying to keep them down. But my tears are soon falling, rolling down my carefully moisturized and well-maintained face, slashing their way down my cheeks with their salty drops that will leave everything red and swollen for hours.

I glower at the space around, at the grimy, falling apart buildings of Ashcove High that wrecked my childhood and have now managed to wreck my professional career.

People always say Hollywood is like a small town. A place where everyone knows everyone, or at least, knows someone who knows someone. How can I work in Hollywood, when people know everything about me is fake?

God, why did I even try? Why did I try to make something out of myself?

If I’d done that, I would have known my place.

I would have known to never attempt to do anything with Luke.

I stumble over the path toward the parking lot. Maybe I can get to my car, before the parking lot floods with the crew and producers.

I should have asked Luke to speak with Bryce before we met, but I believed he might not recognize me. I was operating on hope, and not intelligence.

Because a part of me wanted whatever was happening with Luke to continue on, to move forward forever and ever, even though I know that on Christmas Eve he will choose a woman, even though I know there can never be anything between us. Willow and Flora are both great people who probably were well-liked by their fellow students. Not everyone has a Bryce, because not everyone attracts a Bryce.

Maybe Bryce treated me unfairly, but he treated me that way because I am me. Of all the students in the school, I was the one who drew his attention. I was the one who didn’t fit in, who attracted his contempt. I wasn’t the only student without money. Bryce and Luke’s families were more lower-middle class than middle-middle class.

Maybe in my fantasies though Luke and I would still be together, and we would meet Bryce, and it wouldn’t matter because he didn’t recognize me. Maybe I could be Sebastian Archer at Thanksgiving and Christmas and birthdays. Maybe I could never have to be me.

My heart stutters, and my breath comes in those horrible little gasps. I am in the parking lot of my high school, an adult crying.

I fist my hands and glower some more, until the world is no longer blurry, until the high school is not a gray smudge on the dirty gray, slushy snow, until I can see the dismal gray expanse of sky before me. I head to the parking lot, the route icy and precarious. No one was supposed to use the exit I took, and it is clear no one kept it clear. They probably didn’t think anyone would be ridiculous enough to exit the school through the emergency exit, ignoring all the clearly marked signs.

God.

I can’t believe I did what I did.

It’s over. Over. Over.

LUKE

Sebastian sprints down the corridor, and Bryce’s laughter booms.

“What a fraud. I’m so sorry, guys. Ashcove High normally produces great graduates,” Bryce says, winking at me, “but obviously every few decades or so there has to be a total dud.”

The crew look stunned, sending one another glances, and I’m pretty sure they can’t wait for all of this to be over so they can gossip.

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Smith says. “I said the wrong thing. He didn’t think he could keep it a secret, did he? I know Seth. He used to have lunch in the library. He didn’t have any friends.”

Ella’s brow is furrowed. “So Sebastian went to this school?”

“Seth,” Bryce corrects here. “Sebastian is way too fancy sounding for him. Should have known he was a faker from that.”

“His name is Seth,” Clark Peters says, his lips tight. “It says so on his employment papers. He said his friends all call him Sebastian.”

“What a loser,” Bryce says. “But he sure as hell didn’t have any friends in high school, so that’s actually not a lie.”

“He didn’t have any friends in high school?” Flora asks, her voice small.

“Nope.” Bryce’s eyes sparkle.

God, I’m so angry.

“Let’s respect Sebastian’s privacy,” I say. “Please?” I look at Matteo. “Nothing needs to be posted online, right?”

“Everything is fair game,” Ella says, and I blink.

I thought Ella was Sebastian’s friend. I know he considered her his friend.

“I think we’re done here for today,” Clark says.

An alarm blares in the distance.

“What’s that?” Aisha asks.

“That is the sound of an idiot who went out the wrong exit,” Bryce explains. “Fucking annoying.”

“Don’t swear,” Mrs. Smith says.

Bryce glowers at her. “I’m the assistant principal now. I’ll swear if I want to.” He glances at me. “Or are your ears too tender for that, little bro?”

“I’ll go inside,” Mrs. Smith says, disappearing into the library again.

Bryce starts to laugh, and I hate it.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I tell him.

“Do what?” Bryce’s eyes are wide and innocent.

“You know exactly what you did,” I say.

“Ah. My little bro is angry. Defending the gay guy? Why is that? Something you want to tell me?”

Fire blazes through me. The world is hazy, like that time I drive in Arizona in the summer, and the air became squiggly as heat rose from the asphalt.

“It’s okay,” Flora says, and I’m not sure why she’s saying those words.

I don’t know if she’s saying them because she wants to say of course we all know you’re straight, completely and utterly. Maybe she’s saying okay because she thinks Bryce is correct, and I’m making too big of a deal about it. Maybe she’s simply trying to calm me, because videos are recording, and that’s probably the correct answer.

I inhale. And exhale. Inhale. And exhale.

I am a calm lake, like the team psychologist tells us we should remember when we need to keep our cool.

“The guy had it coming to him,” Bryce says. “Ridiculous Twink.”

Fuck it.

I swing around and punch Bryce in the jaw. His mouth rounds. His eyes goggle. He slithers to the floor like the low-life he is.

I should be apologizing. This is my brother.

But I heard his slurs and cruelty for too long.

“You will speak about Sebastian with respect,” I say.

I start to walk away, then I turn around. “Not that there’s anything wrong with being a gay or being a twink or anything.”

I stumble over the language, hoping I’m not being more offensive. God, I know nothing about LGBTQ things. I never thought it applied to me. I’ve always relegated everything not to do with hockey as not for me. But queer men don’t need to be athletic and muscular like Evan and Vinnie and Noah and Finn. They can be light and sparkly and beautiful like Sebastian.

God, where is he now? The siren still blares. I want to wrap him in my arms and assure him this doesn’t matter, that there’s no reason to run. I’m here.

I want to hold him in my arms and give him as many hugs and kisses as he needs. I want to apologize about my brother and tell him I wish I stood up for him years ago, and that I know it’s too late, but that I have now.

“I assume this segment is over?” I ask Ella.

“Yes.”

“I don’t want anything after the librarian came into the corridors to be released,” I say. “Understand?”

“We can’t—”

“I’m calling my agent,” I say, then I hurry out, my heart pounding. I take out my phone.

“Luke?” Nate says, answering at once, and I’m so glad he’s efficient.

“I’m in Ashcove and I punched my brother during the tour. On film.”

There’s a pause, and I hurry faster, moving toward the sound of the open alarmed door.

“Are you kidding?” Nate asks finally.

“No, I’m not kidding,” I practically explode. “I don’t call you to tell you random jokes!”

“You’re right,” Nate says quickly. “That doesn’t sound like. Punching your brother though?”

“I should have done it a decade ago.”

“Well, now you have a memory of it,” he says. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“My brother said some...bad things about Sebastian. I don’t want any of that getting out either.”

Nate sighs. “I’m not sure you know how reality TV works.”

I fly from the building, into the great icy cold. The cold wind blusters around me. Nate is right, I know. Still, I square my shoulders and muster up my scariest voice. “Do it.”

I hang up and look around. Where is Sebastian?

I see a gray Mercedes drive over the slushy parking lot. It’s him. I know it. I see his blond hair.

“Wait! Sebastian! Stop!” I wave my arms around because he needs to see me. He needs to stop.

He turns toward me, and relief moves through me. He sees me.

But instead he turns back and speeds away.

“Wait!” I run after him, sliding on the slippery path.

But the car doesn’t stop.

I am alone in the parking lot.

I have not protected Sebastian.

I have failed.

The brisk wind stings me, and snow flickers down, but there are no snowflakes I can give Sebastian to make this right. I have only hurt him. Destroyed him.

I close my eyes, my heart still pounding.

Voices sound behind me, and I inhale, then turn around and prepare to fake calmness even though my soul has been scraped raw.