Page 140 of Faithful

We find an empty corner and I’m finally able to see him better when he steps under a stream of soft light coming from the bulb above.

His face hasn’t changed much, except for those dark shadows beneath his eyes. And he’s wearing a beanie, hair tucked in.

I grab at the lapels of his coat and draw him to me. “Was there a car outside your place after we spoke on the phone?”

He shakes his head, studying me carefully.

“I told you I’d fix it.”

His expression changes and I recognize fear in his rain cloud eyes instantly.

“What did you do, Dylan?” he asks, his lower lip wobbling.

“I sold myself to the lesser devil.”

“Why?”

This is when I realize we aren’t exactly being careful. Our bodies are pressed together and anyone paying attention to us right now would know…

The funny thing is that I don’t give two shits. People can stare all they want. More power to them. He’s mine and I’m not giving him up. I’m not a coward anymore.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” I tell Kai, my voice blending with the frantic beat of the song coming from inside the club. “Those photos… They don’t hold any weight anymore. Gavin won’t be able to use them.”

There’s no reaction. Time suddenly stops, and it’s just him and me and nothing else.

Finally, Kai moves. He slowly extracts himself from my grasp and pats his pockets, then retrieves a pack of Parliaments and lights up a cigarette with trembling fingers.

I wait until after he takes his first drag. He’s nervous and he needs to calm down, and smoking is his method of coping with anxiety. Horrible habit, but who am I to tell him what to do? Besides, it’s not like I'm the picture of sainthood. Plus, sainthood is overrated, and its existence is questionable anyway.

God, we’re both so fucked up.

“There’s a huge charity event,” I begin once Kai’s face relaxes a bit. “It’s this Saturday.”

He gives me a whimsical look, one brow arched. “And?”

“I need a date.”

“And?”

“Will you go with me?”

There’s a pause. He sucks more smoke into his lungs, his chest rising and then slowly falling. “Are you sure about this?” he replies grimly.

“Gavin has no leverage anymore. I told you the photos don’t matter.”

“What if I show up and he releases them anyway?”

“He won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“You said you’ll trust me on this, so please do.”

“It’s not my reputation that I’m risking. People can talk shit all they want. It’s part of being in the public's eye. I agreed to the scrutiny when I signed my name on that contract. What I worry about is my mother. If I have no income, how am I supposed to support her? Do you think being lead singer of a band that magically hit its streak means I’m set with royalties for the rest of my life? I’m not. I have to work my ass off to be able to afford my own place and cover the medical bills. And what if this streak doesn’t last? What if some other artist, better and mainstream-friendlier, comes along and the label gives them priority?”

I find it strange that Kai’s chosen to talk about such ordinary things like income and bills at this moment while I’m trying to tell him that I’m not afraid of going all in.

“And the guys.” He flicks his wrist, cigarette stuck between his fingers, ash sprinkling the ground. “They all depend on the band. You think I’m just going to ruin everything we’ve been building these past five years?”

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