Page 12 of The Men of Summer
Holy shit, it felt insanely liberating to stop pretending while the song lasted. I’m tempted to run backstage, pull Zayn on stage, and declare my undying love for my hot as fuck boyfriend. Only I can’t do that to him. I can’t afford such an impulse. For now, the media prefers to imagine that I’m attracted to Brea, who is, indeed, a beautiful woman. Our managers told us to carry on with the charade since it boosts sales. As cheap as it makes me feel, my boyfriend and my co-star encourage it to keep our secrets safe.
Midway through the set, Brea steps forward for a solo. Her hoarse voice soars, pure and powerful, and the audience falls silent, captivated by her presence. I watch her, in awe of her talent and the raw emotion she pours into each note. No wonder she’s won so many awards—something that I have yet to achieve. When her last verse finishes, the crowd explodes into applausethat matches the drumming of my heart. Both sounds are almost deafening.
I step forward and join her for another song from our initial collaboration. Our voices blend to perfection once again, the power of our duet unmistakable.
As the final notes of our set fade away, a roar fills the night. Brea and I stand there, breathless and exhilarated, basking in our shared euphoria. We take a bow, hand in hand, and I can feel the connection, not just between us but with every single person out there. Rupert, Gael and the vocalists step forward, wave to the crowd, and blow air kisses.
This is why we do it. Pure, unadulterated wonder. The festival lights twinkle above us, the night is alive with music, and for this ephemeral instant, we are one.
Turning to Brea as we exit the stage, I lean her way, hug her T-shirt-clad shoulder that’s dampened with sweat, and kiss her temple. “That was incredible. You were on fire tonight.”
Despite our state of disarray, she’s glowing and laughing. “You weren’t so bad yourself.” She has never been more breathtaking. As soon as the curtain closes, Gael’s strong arm snakes around her tiny waist. Bewildered, she turns her head to assess the situation as I let go of her and quizzically looks at Rupert. Gael whispers something into her ear, holding her back flush against his front. They giggle.Riiight…
I ignore them. My man’s waiting for me in my dressing room. Banging him’s gonna be the perfect outlet for my energy. Did I mention that being on stage triggers my libido?
We head backstage, talking animatedly. Rupert’s tall Barbie-lookalike girlfriend has a wild smile on her perfect face. Her somewhat guarded demeanor doesn’t quite match her looks, but what do I know? She gently suggests that we regroup, then snaps a bunch of pictures with her phone… We’re all fully aware that we created an unforgettable moment.
Together.
CHAPTER 9
I DON’T WANNA MISS A THING
Dante
My heart swells with pride. I hold Jeremy’s hand a little tighter and sigh. This is it, another milestone in Jeremy’s life. My heart tightens with sorrow. His mother should have been the one holding his hand today, but here we are. He squeezes and releases my fingers with what I can only guess is a mix of excitement and nerves. My baby is no longer one. Damn, my boy looks dashing with his brand spanking new backpack. My heart somersaults with amusement. When we went to the store, he asked for a dark blue one, explaining that he’ll eventually add accessories.
His olive-green T-shirt is equally plain. Again, his choice since he claims that it goes with everything, like his khakis. Spending time with Zayn’s surely influenced his choices; their geeky Ts have become weekend exclusives.
With the elementary school facing me, I bite my bottom lip, instinctively glancing at Zayn for support while he rounds my vintage Camaro that I can’t bring myself to sell. Granted, it’s not practical with a five-year-old. Still, my son insisted we take mycar rather than Zayn’s boring Prius. It felt damn good to hear he inherited my taste in cars at least.
Kneeling on the sidewalk opposite Jeremy, I ask, “You ready?” I’m about to thread my fingers through my hair but stop mid-air. It dawns on me that it’s so long I’ve pulled it back into a man-bun. The Seaside Music Festival drained my energy. My sole goal after it was over was to spend time with my family, which I am doing.
Staying home grants me time to write music, and it’s also refreshing to forget about my public image. Hence, my longer hair. My lover’s initial reluctance to my new look grew into a fetish when he fisted my hair while taking me from behind. The fact that we moved into a three-bedroom house and don’t share a wall with Jeremy anymore is my excuse to be more vocal about the pleasure Zayn gives me.
My boyfriend stays quiet, a few steps away from us, as if giving us privacy. I beckon him by tilting my head. He has every right to partake in this moment, maybe not 100% legally yet, but that’s in the works.
Once he reaches my side, Jeremy enthusiastically bounces on his toes, glances his way, then shoots a peaceful smile at me and pats my shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, Father.”
“See, I told you you were the nervous one today,” Zayn teases. Beside me, Zayn snatches Jeremy’s baseball cap. He picked his recent favorite: one with my latest album’s logo. He was adamant about wearing it when we left for school, but school rules prevent him from wearing it inside. “I’ll bring it back when I pick you up.”
“’K.” He shakes his head and releases my hand to adjust his wild copper waves; we love his hair color so much that we have a tendency to let his hair grow a little too long!
My boyfriend and I exchange a quick smile, both of us feeling the weight of this moment. Holding hands, the three of us takea few steps towards the entrance. From afar, I notice there’s barely any couples, and most of the people here are women. Stereotypes die hard.
Jeremy halts and looks at Zayn. “Papa…” He has a flawless French accent when he uses this word to address Zayn. I melt a little. “Do you think I'll make friends today?” His voice is small but hopeful, yet his concern bothers me.
As much as I’d like to shield him from the ugly things in the world, I can’t, and especially not when I’m traveling. That’s why I’ll always be grateful to Zayn for taking care of Jeremy as if he was his own on a day-to-day basis. He claims that he owes it to me because falling for him forever altered my life. That may be true, but I wouldn’t be where I am now if it weren’t for him. Does he comprehend how positively our relationship has changed me? The fact that being bi alienates some family, friends, and acquaintances is of no importance to me.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t you? I bet you’re going to have a great day and make lots of friends.” It’ll be quite an adjustment for Jeremy compared to spending time with Zayn or the sitter, but both have brought Jeremy to the park for years, so he is used to socializing with children his age.
Zayn is an introvert who doesn’t mesh with other parents or sitters at the park. He prefers the distance offered by social media to interact with others. He doesn’t disclose much of what his IT job entails, but I’m convinced it reinforces his loner side. Besides his sister, his only friends these days are Nicole and Sully.
I’m his polar opposite, always surrounded by people: my manager, obviously, my entourage, and fans—thankfully not ruthless paparazzi yet! My friendship with my former BFF and roommate, Luke, isn’t as tight as it once was. We’ve had several fallouts over the years, and his acrimonious breakup with Elsie clearly didn’t play in his favor. Funny enough, he recentlyreached out and offered to produce my second album with Brea. That’s why I’ve been traveling to Seattle so much, but I trust Brea more than I trust him. I bet he was more tempted by the money than by rebuilding our long-lost friendship, considering he basically talks about women 24/7, rehashes old stories about my hookups, and evades my relationship with Zayn whenever possible.
“Right, Dante?” My man’s voice brings me back to the present.
“Absolutely! Plenty of friends… You’re the best.”
