Page 39 of Once Upon a Boyband
Beside me, Freddie stands, his hands slipping into his front pockets as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. He almost seems nervous, making me wonder when he last saw Adam.
Or…Deke? I have no idea how to think of him now.
Adam cuts the engine in his SUV, but he doesn’t get out. Once he turns off the headlights, reducing the glare, the glow of the porch lights makes it easy to see him through the passenger side window. He’s staring forward, his hands gripping the steering wheel, while his sister talks, her hands moving as she does.
“Is he going to get out?” Freddie mutters more to himself than to me. Heisnervous. I can see it in the tight line of his shoulders, the way his fists are clenched next to his sides.
I stand up beside him, swallowing past the lump in my throat, but there’s no hiding the tremble in my voice. “I’m sure he will eventually.”
But he doesn’t.
Not for another minute, at least. And a minute when you’re standing beside Freddie Ridgefield is a very long time.
Finally, Adam climbs out of his car.
He stops at the foot of the stairs and looks up at Freddie. It takes about ten seconds for his usually stoic expression to break, then he’s moving forward, and Freddie is rushing down the steps and pulling Adam into a tight embrace.
Adam hugs right back, confirming that he is, actually, Deke Driscoll, and also telling me he hasn’t seen his former bandmate in a very long time.
Sarah appears beside me, her eyes wide and her expression full of concern. She has Adam’s blue eyes and wavy blond hair that just reaches her shoulders, and I’m momentarily distracted by how beautiful she is. “So this must be pretty overwhelming for you,” she says, her voice gentle. “I’m Sarah, by the way.”
I nod even as my eyes shift back to her brother. “Right. And he’s…”
I don’t even have the words to finish the sentence. At least not out loud.
“He’s still the same guy you thought he was an hour ago,” Sarah says. “I know it’s a lot. But…just remember that.”
I want to believe Sarah, but nothing about any of this makes sense. How can sweet, affable, introverted Adam also be an international popstar?Formerinternational popstar?
An image of Adam running his hands through his hair flashes through my brain, and the weird sense of déjà vu I’ve had a few times since we’ve started hanging out suddenly makes sense.
Adam seems familiar because heisfamiliar. I’ve watched Deke run his hand through his hair a million times. It’s the move he was famous for, and Adam does it exactly the same way.
“I met your fiancée,” Freddie says as he finally pulls back from the world’s longest hug. He claps Adam on the back. “I can’t believe I had to hear you were getting married fromKevin.”
“Wait. What?” Sarah says from beside me. “Fiancée?”
Adam’s eyes go wide, and they fill with panic as he looks in my direction.
I should object. Clarify. Saysomething.But my utter and complete brain jumble seems to have filled my mouth with concrete.
I wait for Adam to protest or explain, but he seems just as tongue-tied as I am.
It’s Sarah who finally breaks me out of my stupor. “Um, Laney? Are you okay? You look a little pale.”
Adam hurries up the stairs and grabs my elbow, his touch sending heat coursing through my veins. “Youdolook pale,” he says softly. He tugs me toward the bench where I sat with Freddie just minutes ago. “Here. Sit down.”
I do as he asks, even as a completely ridiculous thought makes a giggle rise up inside of me. In the past twenty minutes, two different members of Midnight Rush have sat me down on this same bench. The giggle sounds more like a painful snort when it comes out, and Adam lifts a hand tomy back, rubbing his palm up and down in a soothing gesture.
Itissoothing, and I finally look over to meet his eyes. They are full of concern, a deep furrow creasing his brow, and it’s almost enough to anchor me, to make me forget that a hundred miles away in my childhood bedroom, there’s still a poster of him hanging beside my bed.
A surge of irrational panic shoots through me.
Or maybe it’s embarrassment?
Thinking of Adam asthatguy—the guy he was when I was in high school—somehow throws my brain back to that same time. When I was awkward and insecure and so uncomfortable with myself. It doesn’t make any sense. I’mnotthat girl anymore. But I’m in fight or flight mode, and all I want to do is flee. Hide. Go somewhere else, where I can process without so many eyes watching.
I shrug out from under Adam’s touch and stand up again. “I think I need to go.”
