18

Two months later

"Oh my stars, this is so much better than a tour bus!" Theo squeals as he breaks away from the group, sprinting towards the private jet that's our transportation for the next two months. "Dante, will you kiss me like that sailor photo? Tai, take a picture while Dante dips me!"

Dante begrudgingly stomps over, because he can't deny Theo a damn thing. Theo's face lights up as they pose, Dante dipping him with a sappy smile as I snap a few pictures. Once his fiancé is satisfied, Dante returns to the group while Theo dances like an excited puppy and circles the jet.

"Got your passports up to date?"

"You've asked that at least a dozen times," Eric complains, and Dante shoots him a glare.

"It's not my fault you two changed your names right before an international tour." In a move that surprised us at first, Dmitri took Eric's last name. But the more we thought about it, the more we realized it was a logical decision. Eric's family has been a constant source of support since the beginning, compared to Dmitri's father, who resorted to extreme measures to separate them, and his mother, who turned a blind eye.

The Woodards have become a second set of parents to all of us, and now Dmitri officially belongs to a family that loves him exactly as he is.

"Don't worry, buddy," Dmitri says, clapping Dante on the shoulder with his broad hand. "Passports are squared away."

"Mr. Woodard took care of everything," Eric purrs, wrapping his arms around Dmitri's waist with those love-struck eyes that he gets a hundred times a day, and I take that as my cue.

I nod at Dante and the two of us diverge from the lovefest. "Where do I need to put my luggage?"

He leads me to a small rolling platform where a few suitcases and duffels sit. "Throw them on there. The equipment is in the cargo bay, and they'll load your bags for you." He gestures towards a few airport employees hovering near the rear of the plane.

"This is weird," I say, letting my eyes roam over the sleek jet. "It's a long stretch from the tiny three-person bus we crammed ourselves into for that first tour."

"Surreal sometimes, isn't it?" There's a nostalgic undertone in his voice that he rarely shares, and I steal a sideways glance, unable to hide my smile. "Monica has been a lifesaver in planning this. I wouldn't have been able to manage without her."

"That's your curse, Dante." I bump him with my elbow. "You always think you have to handle everything by yourself."

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbles, and I laugh as I put my bags on the platform.

We walk up into the jet, and I can't help but feel like I'm in a dream, taking in the sight of the sleek interior, plush leather seats, and fully equipped kitchenette. Surreal is the right word.

Theo is already rummaging through every drawer he can find, reclined like a king on his throne. "Made yourself at home, did you?"

He narrows his eyes before returning to his search. "Of course I did. Dante, how many servants did you hire to attend to my needs while we're on this tour?"

"Um, none?"

Theo scrambles to sit up straight, gawking at Dante. "Who will get my drinks and snacks for me?"

Dante's brow furrows as he says, "Uh… you… will?"

There's a tense, drawn-out pause, and then Theo's eyes slide to mine. "Do you hear this? How are you going to hire a private jet with a pilot and everything, and not have servants to feed me grapes and fan me?"

The exhaustion on Dante's face is hilarious as he sighs. "Because we can't waste money on errand boys?"

" Waste money, he says. Unreal."

"So, it's just us and the pilot?" I ask, moving past Theo's whining, though it persists in the background.

Dante nods. "For now. Staff at the airports will help unload our gear to the transport vans Monica has arranged, and there are people at the venues to assist with getting equipment inside and set up."

"Monica isn't flying with us?"

"Monica would've gotten me an errand boy," Theo mutters, and Dante ignores him.

"No." Dante says, giving in to Theo's pouting and reaching to squeeze his hand. "Not for the stateside stops, at least."

Prior to flying overseas, the band is playing shows in several major U.S. cities, starting with a kickoff concert in New York City. The enormity of the stage we are about to perform on makes my brain spin. Most days, it's hard to comprehend that we're here—that the fame and recognition aren't just a figment of our imagination that will disappear when we wake.

And then the morning light hits, and it's still real. We are, in fact, loading up a private jet to take us on a world tour. Bizarre. After New York, we fly to Chicago, Dallas, San Francisco, and then Washington D.C.

"We'll pick her up in D.C. with the security team, and she'll travel with us for the shows overseas."

"Does no one else think hiring security guards is overkill?" I ask, crossing my arms. "We aren't that important."

Dante shakes his head before I'm even done speaking. "Absolutely not. If I had my way, we would've had them in place for the first leg of the tour. The venues have security, but risking your safety over someone with an unknown agenda isn't worth it."

"Aww…" I sling my arm around his shoulders and tug him close while he wiggles, trying to throw me off. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say old age is making you sentimental."

"You're older than I am," he says with a roll of his eyes.

"Oh, bullshit," Theo spouts from his seat, jumping up and bouncing on his toes. "Tai's only like, my age." The reminder of Connor's similar comment about my age slices through my chest like a knife, but I push past the wave of sadness.

"You know I'm thirty-seven, right?" I say with a slight grin, which sends Theo into a case of the zoomies, darting around the plane as Eric and Dmitri board.

Theo yells Eric's name, who turns to him with wild eyes. "How old is Tai?"

"Uh, I think thirty-five? Six?" He offers me an apologetic shrug as I smirk triumphantly at Theo.

"No way," Theo says, grabbing my cheeks and twisting my face back and forth, his eyeballs almost touching my skin as he inspects it. "There's no fucking way. You're either lying or have a magic facial cream."

Eric turns to Dmitri with a snort. "I'll give you a magic facial cream."

"For fuck's sake, Eric!" Dmitri's face flushes as he shoves his husband towards a seat.

I turn my attention back to Theo. "Did you really think I was in my teens when we met?"

He wrinkles up his nose as he considers it, then nods. "Yes. Yes, I did."

My lips break into a bigger smile while I shake my head, incredulous, when an unfamiliar woman enters the cabin. Dante introduces her as Jenn, our pilot, before she reviews the safety rules and mandatory technical bullshit before our departure. We half listen, our minds too preoccupied to truly engage.

"Will you bring me a snack if I need one?" Theo asks when she's done speaking, and she laughs, a tinkling little sound that instantly makes me like her.

"Only if you'll steer the plane while I do." Jenn's eyes widen when, as one, we protest.

"Do not tell him that," Dmitri says as Theo's excited posture deflates. "He will absolutely try to fly if you let him anywhere near the cockpit…"

"Heh, cockpit," Theo snorts.

"…and I think I speak for us all when I say I'd rather not die on this trip."

"Rude." Theo crosses his arms, huffing his way to his seat as Dante throws Jenn an apologetic smile before following him. She gives a few last-minute instructions, and then we settle into our chairs for takeoff.

Unlike a commercial plane, the jet has three clusters of four seats positioned to face one another, each with a small table at the center. Dante and Theo curl up in the first, and Eric and Dmitri have their heads together in the next.

It hits me as I glance over their smiling faces and relaxed intimacy, square in the chest.

That sensation of not belonging.

Silently, I move past the happy couples and settle into the final cluster of chairs, leaning against the side of the plane and staring out the window. As we take off, my fingers clench tightly onto the armrest, the smooth texture of the leather giving beneath my touch. Flying is my nemesis on the best of days, and well…

Today isn't the best of days.

Tomorrow's not looking so hot, either.

Finally, I'm able to relax when we're soaring through the sky, with the world below becoming minuscule and unimportant. Tiny buildings and vehicles on a miniature landscape that lose all significance.

A blurred version of reality, one without value.

Appropriate.

I curl into myself and close my eyes, begging my body for sleep.

I hate the quiet.

My ears still ring from the concert in New York. It was the biggest show we've ever played, with acoustics that made it feel like the chords could be heard all the way up into the cosmos. We were flawless, and the crowd was wild. Media coverage is blowing up our phones, reporters and bloggers proclaiming this the kickoff concert of the year.

The ride to our hotel for the night was also filled with noise. Excitement and laughter rang through the chartered van as everyone discussed the show, recounting every minute of the performance as we drove.

New York City is the only place I've ever been that has traffic jams at 1a.m., and I stared, fascinated, out the window. The streets and sidewalks were packed with a vibrant assortment of people, even in the middle of the night.

It took us an hour to get ten miles to our stop, and we were ushered inside once we arrived. Trying to maintain our privacy and keep our location out of the public eye, Dante and Monica arranged for our arrival to be discreet. We were led in through the back entrance, as if we were someone's dirty little secret.

Like I was some dirty little secret.

Everyone broke away to their rooms, sweaty and exhausted, and now I sit.

And it's quiet.

I fucking hate the quiet.

Phone in my hand, I stare at the text messages I've sent to Connor's number over the past few months, all of them unread and unanswered.

TAI

Is there a way to turn back time? To go back to before I met you? Because this hurts, Connor. You swore you wouldn't lie to me, and our entire existence was a fucking lie. I hate you, and I hate what you've done to me.

TAI

Was any of it real?

TAI

I hope you nvver get off during sex again!!! Youfucking desevverre it!! Fucking asshole!!

Not my greatest moment, but I was drunk for that one. Now I find myself in this hotel room, where the only sound that penetrates the silence is the occasional street noise, but even that dissipates before reaching my ears on the sixteenth floor. My fingers move over my phone as I type another message that will never reach its intended destination.

TAI

We played the biggest show of our career tonight, and it went amazing. But you don't even know that I'm a musician, do you? Maybe you figured it out that night I played karaoke for you, but you didn't know. Not really. I should be happy right now, and instead I'm lost.

I'm stuck in a moment of time that meant nothing to you, and everything to me. Do you ever think of me? Does it fucking eat at you until there's nothing left? Take your breath away even after this time has passed?

Or did you not feel anything at all?

Angry tears mix with the sweat on my face, and I'm furious as I wipe them away. My throat closes as the familiar panic rises in my chest, and my breath comes in gasping inhales as I fight to find my oxygen. I undress and step into the shower, deliberately setting the water temperature to scorching, yearning for the burn.

Hands against the tile, water searing over my skin, I stand there until my throat opens and I can breathe easier. I go through the motions, just like I've trained myself—I wash my body and hair, dry myself, put on clean clothes, and drink a glass of water.

Even though I don't want to, I take care of myself… take care of this shell of a body, this husk of a person I've become.

Maybe someday it'll be worth the effort.

Maybe someday I'll find myself again.

City lights pollute the night sky, erasing the stars outside my window as I curl up in bed and stare. Sleep evades me, as it usually does, so I just lie here, surrounded by the quiet.

And I really fucking hate the quiet.