Page 10 of Ticket to the Stars: Part Two

I glanced at Deacon. He was on the other side of Bishop, as far as he could be from me, and when I looked at him, I saw his head was angled off to the side, as if he was staring out of the windows on the far side of the room.

“I think,” Deacon took his time in answering, though he never drew his gaze away from the wall of windows, “Angel is an amazing addition to Black Sacrament.” A line rehearsed with Ramona. He didn’t say anything else, which the host noticed.

“You didn’t answer my other question, Deacon, so I’ll ask it again: how do you feel about the complicated situation between Angel and Priest?”

Deacon sighed, and I thought he’d repeat something else Ramona told him to say, but instead he said, “Let’s just say it’s more complicated than you know, Hank.” More complicated than he could know… what did that mean? What did Deacon mean by that?

I tried to imagine Hank’s face as his answer sunk in, but I’d never met Hank before, so I didn’t know what he looked like. I knew, on the other hand, that both Priest and Bishop had glanced at Deacon to wordlessly ask him what he was doing. What he’d said wasn’t part of the script.

“More complicated?” Hank echoed, sounding confused. “What does that mean? Are you saying—are you saying there’s more to this than just Priest and Angel?”

“I’m saying maybe Priest isn’t the only one who likes Angel,” Deacon rattled off, frowning to no one in particular.

Hank was quiet for a while. “I… wow. Okay, wasn’t expecting that. Look, we’re almost out of time, but I love having you guys on the show. I’d love to get you here again.” He did a end-of-interview spiel, and then we were off the hook.

As Priest set the phone down on the coffee table, everyone turned to look at Deacon. His hair was drawn back in a low, loose pony, a few tendrils short enough to escape and frame the squareness of his jaw. His green eyes were still fixed on the windows, and even though he was scowling, he appeared unbothered by what he’d said.

“You know Ramona will hear that,” Bishop spoke carefully.

“Yeah, so what?” Deacon shot back. “I don’t care about our script or whatever the fuck she wants us to say.” Quieter, he added, “And I only said the truth.”

Priest shrugged, and then he got up and stretched, as if talking to Hank on the phone had been a physical workout or something. “Whatever. Let the world think whatever they’re going to think. Now that that’s done, I’m going to work out.” He flexed his muscles and winked at me before walking away, leaving me with Bishop and Deacon.

To Bishop, Deacon huffed, “Don’t worry. If Ramona’s pissed, I’ll tell her it was all me. You’re off the hook.” He got up and left the room.

It was just the two of us now, just Bishop and me. My gaze fell to my lap, where I fiddled with my fingers. I could feel Bishop’s eyes on me, and I knew he was probably waiting for me to say something.

What was there to say? I still didn’t know… I just didn’t know. I didn’t want to agree to try and then have it blow up in our faces. How awkward would that be? Alexa said I should get all the dicks, but it wasn’t about the dicks. It was about them and me and the way they made me feel.

But what if that turned sour? Ugh. I just couldn’t shake the nagging doubts.

“Hey, you want to get out of the suite today? Go do something fun?”

I looked at Bishop, finding he was smiling at me, those adorable dimples on his cheeks. As much as the worry consumed me, the moment I spotted those dimples, they all faded away, completely forgotten. It was like some weird superpower.

So I said the only thing I could: “Sure.”

Doing something fun turned into a whole day affair, not that I could complain. He drove us to the large park in thecenter of the city, where we walked and got hotdogs for lunch. Ice cream for dessert, naturally. He told me about his life after he’d moved away, and I told him how my life changed after he’d left.

It was like we were just two friends catching up, no expectations of something more. It was actually kind of relaxing.

After the park, he took me to the movies. He let me pick, and we loaded up on every candy imaginable. I went for the current comedy that was showing, figuring I’d avoid the chick flick and the superhero movie—the former had been lame lately, and the superhero movies had gotten kind of same-y. Too many of them, all the time, everywhere you looked.

Since it was an off-time and the movie had been out a while, we were the only ones in the theater. We chose middle seats on the highest row.

After we got situated—and opened all of our candy—Bishop leaned over the armrest and asked, “Having fun?”

I met his hazel stare. Though the theater room wasn’t exactly dark yet, it was still darker than your average room, and it made his eyes look more brown than anything else. I swore his eyes changed color depending on the light.

“I am, thank you,” I said, giving him a tiny smile. On the giant screen before us, advertisements played, but neither of us paid any attention.

“Good,” he spoke with a nod. “I know things have been… a little weird lately, and I know you’re in your head about it all, so I wanted to remind you that things don’t have to be super stressful all the time.” His arm inched over the armrest between us, his hand finding mine. His fingers curled around my hand tentatively at first, but when I didn’t pull away, their grip tightened.

I tried to joke, “Who said I was stressed?” But even now, feeling his hand wrapped around mine, it was like flashing lights were going off. Big and red and obnoxious, reminding me that, yes, I was in fact stressed.

Stressed about my new life. Stressed about the guys and what I wanted. Stressed about making the wrong decision and destroying everything they’d all worked so hard for. No pressure, right?

“I can see it on your face,” Bishop said, his smile gentle as his hand squeezed mine. “If you don’t want to, if you don’t feel anything, then… then there’s no pressure, you know that, right? You can say no. You can always say no.”

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