Page 83 of If This Gets Out

Jon sighs. “Angel.”

“I’m just saying, you and I are stuck sitting alone in ourrooms because we can’t have anyone visit, and no one’s asking Zach and Ruben to stoptheirvisits. And you like being alone. So, essentially, I’m the only one who has to change my behavior.”

Zach’s face is falling further by the second, and I officially run out of patience. “No one’s stopping you from hanging out with Jon if you’re lonely,” I say, “and no one’s stopping you from inviting us over to chillwithouta party going on. But don’t take it out on us because you got yourself banned from having visitors, Angel. We tried to stop you.”

“They wouldn’t have known about it at all if you three didn’t chase us down and make a scene,” Angel says coldly.

“You don’t know that,” Jon says, looking between us, his eyebrows rising in alarm. “It probably wouldn’t have been good either way. And it’s done.”

Zach hugs his arms to himself. “Come hang with us?” he asks, a little desperate. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t actually want to hang with Angel and Jon, or he would’ve spoken on the bus. But trying to get Zach to prioritize his needs over anyone else’s is like trying to beg a bee not to sacrifice itself for the hive.

I glare at Angel. Angel looks between Zach and me, then tosses a hand. “Nah. I’m tired.”

He and Jon head to their rooms, and Zach frowns. “Tomorrow?” he asks.

“Sure. Maybe.” He couldn’t sound less enthusiastic if he tried, though.

When we get inside my room, Zach hovers by the door, rising onto his tiptoes and lowering himself again like he’s bracing to take flight. I land heavily on my bed with a creak of springs. “What happened?”

He takes a few slow steps across the room, looking out of the windows down at the blinking lights of Prague. “Nothing. Valeria was just giving me some notes on my dancing.”

Somewhere deep within me, my sixth sense pricks up. When you’ve survived a lifetime of passive-aggression and veiled threats, your stomach starts to recognize them before your mind quite knows why. This, I can already tell, is one of those moments. “What kind of notes?”

He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. But it is a big deal, or else he wouldn’t be so quiet. “She said you were distracting me tonight and it made me really out of time. Apparently I’m actually out of time a lot, and I need to work on it with her in our filming breaks next week.”

Valeria is fucking lucky she’s not in the room with us right now, or I’d have a word or two to say to her. “You’re not out of time,” I say, trying to keep calm.

“How do you know? It’s not like you can see me when we’re dancing.”

I get to my feet and stride over to him. “Um, because I’ve been working with you for three years now? And I’ve seen you dance a million times?”

He fiddles with the curtain. “Yeah, but it’s Val’s job to tell us if we’re doing something wrong. And Iamthe worst dancer out of all of us. I’m just really frustrated at myself. I’mtrying.But I’m not the one with the perfect body, or the charisma, or whatever. I just want to write music and sing, and they’ve known that since the start, but they want me to be a pop guy. I’m just not… as good as…” He trails off, a muscle in his jaw working.

I take his hand. “Well, you are,” I say. “You’re great, actually. And that whole meeting had nothing to do with your dancing.”

He squeezes my hand, but keeps looking out the window. “What do you think it had to do with, then?”

Honestly? I think we pissed them off by daring to interact onstage even a little, and they’re freaked out about rumorsbut don’t want to say it in as many words. I think they’re laying the foundation to find an excuse to separate us as much as possible, and they think if they blame it on professionalism and distractions, we can’t accuse them of doing anything wrong. I hadn’t noticed it when Erin was yelling at me, because a part of me had figured I deserved it.

But hearing them come for Zach? No. That I can’t accept as deserved criticism.

I should say so to Zach, but instead, I hesitate. He’s onlyjustcome out. He’s still processing, for god’s sake. He hasn’t even told hismom.So, yeah, a part of me wants to protect him from the realities of what it means to be queer, and how it changes things in a million subtle ways. How it always leaves you a little uncertain if things are fair, or if there’s a tiny shred of hate underlying it all. How, much of the time, you can’t even call it out without turning people against you and calling you overly sensitive, because it can be so insidious, you’re the only one who notices it for what it is.

If I can keep him shielded from the dark side of reality, for just a little bit longer… I will.

So, despite some reservations, I drop his hand and step back. “We’re all just tired. And they were paying more attention to you and me because we were laughing, so they noticed. If it wasn’t for that, they would’ve missed it, guaranteed.”

Zach finally turns away from the window. “Can you help me? Now?”

I blink. “Zach…”

“Just let me show you. Tell me if I’m out of time, and you can’t lie.”

We stare at each other for a few moments, then I give in and pull out my phone to search up our discography. “Fine. Which song?”

“‘Unsaid.’”

A corner of my mouth rises at this while I search. I’d had a feeling he’d say that.

---