Page 25 of Second to None

Levi

Anaheim, Friday, August 15th

Sunlight gilded the tops of Sleeping Beauty’s castle. Emily darted ahead while Mason and I followed our VIP guide a little more slowly. With our baseball caps pulled low, sunglasses firmly in place, I half expected someone to mistake us for a low-budget crime duo scouting the place for a heist.

“You’re a right twat, you know that?” I muttered out of the corner of my mouth, meant for Mason’s ears only.

He tilted his head, tone relaxed. “Because I didn’t stop Emmy from interrupting Cass and you?”

“‘Didn’t stop’? You told her to say good morning!” Between needing a moment to myself after Cass’s departure and Emily’s helium-bright excitement, this was the first chance to air my displeasure. All around us, children squealed and rides whirred, the faint strains ofA Whole New Worldfiltering in from somewhere. Privacy of sorts.

“You’re here for a week,” Mason said. “Did you really want to leave without telling him?”

No. Yes. I adjusted my hat and frowned at the overload of pinks and pastels that assaulted my senses. “I would have told him.”

His eyebrows rose above the edge of his sunglasses. “You had a plan, then?”

“I had, uh…” I hesitated. “The general outline of one.”

“Right, right.” His tone was syrupy with sarcasm, softened by a sweet tilt to his smirk. He let the words hang for a second, then added, “Aren’t you kind of glad it’s out there?”

Emily and our guide had stopped in front of a discreet side gate with a ‘Staff Only’ sign, barely warranting a second glance. It was a ready excuse to forego an answer. But… well. Right before we reached them, I angled closer to Mason and bumped our hands together. “Maybe just a little.”

He slid me a bright, slightly smug look. “You’re welcome.”

We joined Emily and our guide Claire, who wore sensible trainers and clothes designed to deflect attention. All swishing ponytail, she had a way of talking to Emily like she was an equal while Mason and I got the well-rehearsed professional treatment: yes, sir, this way, sir.

Claire steered us through a private gate and along a hedge-lined path, Emily squeezing my hand in excitement because Peter Pan awaited. All right, be present. This was her day, and I didn’t want to spend it with half my mind on Cass. Honestly, I’d done enough of that to last me a lifetime.

We bypassed the normal queue—thank you, obscure vestiges of my old fame and Mason’s present one—and slipped into a quiet loading bay. Sunglasses off, then; no need to look like I was casing the joint.

Within a minute, we boarded our tiny ship. The safety bar clicked down, and we soared forward, the lights dimming as we travelled through a painted night sky. Glittering stars spun above us as a miniature London unfolded below, its streets dotted with tiny lampposts and glowing windows. It was pretty—fake, of course, but nothing wrong with a temporary suspension of disbelief in favour of enjoying the moment.

The ship dipped and swayed as we were whisked into Neverland. The lagoon glimmered with greens and blues, the crimson sails of Captain Hook’s ship billowing in the distance.

“When Peter grows up…” Emily sounded deeply thoughtful, her hands gripping our vehicle’s edge as she leaned forward. “What do you think he’ll do?”

“He won’t,” I said. “That’s his whole shtick, remember?”

“But what if he has to?”

Hmm. Time for a chat about the inevitability of adulthood, or was it okay to let reality sit this one out? It had been a day, after all, and it wasn’t even noon. Door two it was. “He’d be a hot air balloon pilot, I reckon.”

“Icould be a hot air balloon pilot,” Emily said.

“Who am I to disagree?”

We flew past Peter duelling Hook and onwards, until the ship slowed. When we emerged back into the sunny morning soon after, the sudden brightness was blinding. I remembered to slide my sunglasses back on just as Mason did the same.

Too late—two young women had stopped to stare at us, hesitating as they held onto each other’s arms. One smile from Mason, and they approached, a little timid at first, all shy grins and flushed faces as they apologised for bothering us.

“Not at all,” Mason told them, sounding like he meant it—because he did. Ten years of fame, and he still enjoyed talking to fans as long as it was small groups rather than screaming crowds. I’d struggled more, at least for a while, tired of the constant attention and wondering who’d remain if I let my rainbow flag fly.

Turned out that these two would have been entirely cool with it. “Neon Circuit is how we met,” the auburn-haired one said, with a sweet sideways glance at her companion that hinted at more than friends. “So thank you.”

“You always made me feel like it’s okay to be me,” the other one said, and wasn’t that just ironic? Inclusive statements came without a price tag, so as a band, we’d risked nothing. And yeah, I was out now, but without fanfare—just rumours I hadn’t denied, at a point in my life when I didn’t make regular headlines anymore.

Cass coming out would be different. It would be… God. It would be so much braver.

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