Page 57 of If This Gets Out

“Nah, go down the hall a little bit. You can pretend to be kidnapped.”

Wait. Speaking of kidnapping. “Hold that thought. Not that it’s any of our business, but Angel’s been in the bathroomawhilenow.”

Zach tears his eyes away from Jon, who’s now mid-body-roll. “You don’t think he was being serious?”

I start off down the hall backstage, Zach at my heels. “Look, I’massumingnot. I’m more concerned a group of fans have squirrelled him away or something.”

“You talk about him like he’s a collectible item.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You can’t stand there and tell me you’ve never felt like a collectible.”

“Can I count the first time I ever saw the creepy-as-hell Zach doll?”

“I would’ve gone with the time you lost that Band-Aid in the crowd and it ended up on eBay.”

He barks a laugh. “Oh, man, I forgot about that. Touché.”

I poke my head inside the men’s bathroom. “Empty,” I announce.

Zach pops his head over my shoulder. “You wannadouble-check?” I joke, stepping inside so he can enter. But he has no interest in checking the empty stalls. Instead, he steps into me, forcing me backward until I hit the closed door.

“Not really,” he says. “I just want to kiss you.”

Oh.

That might be the best thing anyone’s ever said to me.

He kisses me quickly and fiercely, his hands flying to my neck, his fingers pressing into my hair. Then he pulls away to kiss my jaw, and he runs his lips down my neck, warm as he kisses me, followed by a shock of ice as air hits my skin in his wake. Then, just as my knees start to give out, he straightens and pulls back. “Sorry for the ambush,” he whispers. “I’ve just been wanting to do that forhours.”

I’m speechless for the next full thirty seconds. For once, it’s me followinghimout the door, adjusting my jeans as well as I can, and praying we don’t run into anyone before I can get my blood pressure back under control.

He checks the women’s bathroom—also negative—then we swing past to peek at the stage again just in case Angel returned while we were, ah,preoccupied.Still no luck. I send him a text, and even try calling him, but he doesn’t respond.

“Maybe we should ask the guards if he went out somewhere?” I suggest uncertainly as we hover in the empty hallway.

“Maybe…” Zach shrugs. “Give him a minute, though. He hasn’t even been gone for ten. I don’t want to get him in trouble over nothing if he’s just gone to take a look outside.”

“You think he’s outside?” I ask skeptically. “There’s no way he could’ve gotten past Keegan.”

Then it hits me. Of course. Zach and I aren’t the only ones who know how to work a fire exit.

We find it in less than a minute: follow a stark whitehallway with a concrete floor, then open a second door, letting the midafternoon sun stream in.

“Wait-wait-wait, hold it open!” yells a familiar voice. I pull the door back a little more to find Angel on the other side. “That thing shut behind me—I couldn’t get back in!”

He has sunglasses on and his hood pulled up, at least, but it’s still a small miracle he wasn’t mobbed. Although, now that I peek outside, there’s no one around. Just some guy I don’t recognize in sweatpants and a T-shirt, walking briskly away from us.

“What were you doing out there?” Zach chides. “Erin would’ve murdered you.”

“Nothing important,” Angel says, which makes me think it probablyissomething important. “Come on. Let’s get back before Jon starts doing Hail Marys in penance for touching his thighs in public.”

He takes off his sunglasses and shoves them into his pocket.

I can’t help but notice he leaves his hand over those sunglassesveryprotectively as we walk back to the stage.

We’re about halfway into that night’s performance when I become quite certain that Angel was outside meeting a dealer. He is, fairly obviously, high off his face.

Luckily for us, I don’t think it’s noticeable to the audience. They probably just think he’s really,reallyinto the songs. But up as close as I am, I can see the manic look in his too-open eyes, the way he’s chewing on his lower lip, and the restless trembling of his legs.

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