Page 82 of If This Gets Out

Suddenly, the flashing lights and colors lose their luster. I wish to my bones, to mycore, for the freedom we deserve. To be able to talk to the crowd about things that haven’t been preapproved. To share this story with them, a tender little moment between our group, and the newfound significanceof the song we just sang to them. To tell them about Zach and me. To hear them scream, and cheer, and let them into our real lives, so they can loveus,and celebrate withus,not the curated images of us we’re forced to put on display.

I’m tired of being in so deep we can’t even call it false advertisement anymore, because what they seeiswhat they get.

I’m half gone.

“Unsaid” is a particularly choreo-heavy song, so I can’t dwell on this for too long before I’m throwing myself into the music, spinning and stepping and ducking and turning in time. But the steps bring me over to Zach when his part comes up, and I can’t help but stare at him as he sings.

“You’re the explosion that tore me apart,” he starts in his gritty, strong voice, staring straight into the audience without noticing me, “and I’m sorry to say that you’ve reclaimed my heart…”

Then—hah—his eyes flicker sideways to me. “Baby,” he finishes, eyes sparkling as he bursts into a toothy smile. I return it and let out a delighted, choked laugh. He purses his lips in an attempt to kill his smile, but it’s no use—sunlight is practically streaming out from him. We’re so busy looking at each other we almost,almost,miss our cue to return to the choreo. But we don’t miss it. The song goes just as it does every night, but tonight it feels different, because on top of the lights and the crowd and the moves and the smoke and songs and the steps is Zach’s smile, and the way his eyes locked onto me, and saw me above all the noise.

I have a giddy smile on my face, and a giggle threatening to burst from my lips, for the next few songs. And it feelsgood.

So, I’m caught off-guard when we pour off the stage at the end of the night to find Erin and Valeria waiting for uswith stern expressions. It’s almost like I can feel the band shrinking into ourselves as we try to figure out what we did wrong, and who they’re mad at.

Erin makes eye contact with me first, and that answers that question. Lucky me. “Walk and talk,” Erin orders, and we move, with me falling into step beside her. Zach appears at my shoulder immediately, and though he doesn’t touch me while people can still see us, his elbow bumps against mine and I’m pretty sure it’s not an accident.

“What was so funny?” Erin asks without looking at me.

For a split second, she’s Mom, and I’m several years younger, trapped in the car beside her while she gears up to scream at me about my behavior that day. But she’s not Mom, and I don’t need to panic, because this is business, and we’re all professionals, and it’s just professional feedback.

But then, why is my stomach rolling, and why have my fingertips gone cold? Why are my eyes darting around to pinpoint an escape route, just in case? “Nothing,” I say. My voice comes out uncertain.

“You know,” she says. “I get that everything feels very exciting right now. Irememberwhat it’s like to be in your first real relationship. But you two are going to have to work on remaining professional.”

Something very much like fear stabs behind my heart. “Oh. I thought we were.”

“You thought giggling like schoolkids throughout three and a half songs, onstage, during a concert people paid good money to attend, was professional?” Erin asks, finally looking at me. She’s not smiling. “I know you better than that, Ruben. That’s not you.”

I feel like dying. Finding a small, quiet hole somewhereand crawling into it and curling into a ball to wait out the day, or maybe even the week. She’s right. Mom would kill me if she found out I did that. I should’ve cleared my mind better. We’re not up there for fun. We’re up there to put on a show.

How could I let myself forget that?

Zach’s arm brushes against mine again, more firmly this time. “We were singing fine, though,” he says. “It’s not like we messed up.”

I catch his eye and shake my head. The last thing I want right now is to make this worse. I just want Erin to drop it, so we can forget about it, and I can do better next time, and prove Iamprofessional. That I don’t make stupid, silly mistakes, like a kid playing around in drama class.

Erin turns on him sharply. “You don’t become the best by putting in the bare minimum,” she says. “You’re not earning what you’re earning to tick the boxes. Those people in that audience? They worship you. For a lot of them, this is the only time in their life they ever get to see you. Some of them have been waiting years. Don’t disrespect them by getting up there and going through the motions, or slacking off because you have a new distraction. If it happens again, we’ll need to put you on different ends of the stage for the rest of the tour.”

Wait, she’s threatening to separate us like kindergarteners who can’t pay attention if their friend is too close to them? Maybe we did screw up today, but I hardly think we deserve the patronizing way she’s talking to us. My shame mixes with indignant anger, but anxiety intervenes long before I form a response.Just smile. Nod. Apologize. Don’t give her a reason to punish you.

So I bite my tongue and give a curt nod. “Sorry. It won’t happen again. Don’t worry.”

Erin brightens dramatically. “Good. That’s all I wanted to hear.”

Just behind us, Valeria speaks up. “Zach, can I grab you for a sec?”

I watch as he hangs back, eyebrows drawn together with concern, so they can talk. She slows them down so they’re trailing several feet behind the rest of us, so I can’t hear a word. But I already know from the look on his face I don’t like what’s being said.

When he finally pulls away from Valeria and rejoins us, we’ve started stripping in the dressing rooms. I raise a questioning eyebrow at him, but he gives me a forced smile and shakes his head as he takes off his jacket to hand to Viktor.Later.

Later doesn’t end up being until we’re back at the hotel.

Zach spends the rest of the night pulled into himself, quiet and distant. Even on the bus he sits next to me in silence. It’s obviously nothing like the last time he went quiet on me, though, because when I stroke his arm with my thumb, he leans his body so hard against mine he squashes me into the window. He clearly needs something from me, but doesn’t want to say what that might be in front of everyone else.

So, as soon as we get out of the elevator and the guards from Chase Protective Services take their stations around our doors, I give him a faux-enthusiastic grin. “Wanna come over for a movie or something?” I ask. He nods eagerly, with a look of relief.

“Oh. Are we not invited?” Angel asks in a funny voice.

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