Hat Trick (Fake Boyfriend 5)

My break before needing to go to L.A. just disappeared, which means Soren and I only have tonight and tomorrow night together until the next album is finished.

That could take the entire hockey season because we don’t have enough songs written for it. The plan is to lock ourselves away until it’s done. We all contribute to writing for the band, but with Benji and Freya always fighting, most of the songs that land on our albums end up being mine because they’re too busy bitching each other out to work as a team.

I write better on my own anyway.

But it’s only been three weeks without seeing Soren, minus my impromptu middle of the night visit a week ago, and it’s fucking hard.

I don’t like it.

Being on the road when you’re single is lonely enough, but at least then you can have warm bodies filling your bed. It’s empty and always leaves you feeling worse the next morning, but it eases the pain momentarily. Touring while in a couple, long distance, is even more isolating, and while it’s a different type of loneliness than what I’m used to, I ache for him. I miss him.

I don’t know how we can make it eight months.

Even if I convince the band to take weekends off, flying across the country to see Soren for a few hours only to fly back the next day will be torturous.

Pulling myself away from him a week ago was damn near unbearable.

Maybe that makes me needy and clingy, but when you’ve lived a life surrounded by people who don’t think you matter—parents, record labels, boyfriends—all you want to do is hold on tight to anyone who fills that void in your heart that’s telling you you’re not worthy of true love.

Soren not only makes me feel worthy of it, but he makes me want to give him the same thing in return.

Not by making overt romantic grand gestures or posting our relationship status online for the world to see.

He’s who I want to see with a smile on his face whenever I leave the stage. He’s the one I want to hold me at night while we sleep.

I don’t need over-the-top romance.

I just need him to be there.

I need more of those eight weeks on tour.

I need things I can’t ask of him because taking him away from his job—his NHL dream—would be hurting him and his career as much as me turning down this opportunity to be on Harley’s solo album would hurt mine.

Luce is right, I know that. I can’t turn down Harley’s offer. This could be the thing that tips Radioactive from that band that has a couple of number ones to that Grammy Award-winning band. It could be our shot into superstardom.

I throw myself onto the couch in the dressing room and run my hands through my hair. Soren’s supposed to be here any minute, along with Ollie, Lennon, Damon, and Maddox. I always get the gay brigade tickets when I’m playing in New York.

And after the concert tonight, I get to go home to Noah and Matt’s empty townhouse and sleep in my bed in the only place I’ve ever considered my real home. I only lived there about a year, but Matt and Noah made it a home.

I only wish they could be here instead of in Chicago.

The door opens, and I push all the wallowing down and put on my Jay mask.

It almost slips out of place when I lift my head and see Soren in the doorway, but I lock that shit down.

We literally have two nights together for the foreseeable future. He’ll be at practice tomorrow, and I won’t even get to see him then, so I’m going to make the most of it. Spending our time together whining will just make us both depressed.

I stand and run to him, jumping into his arms and wrapping my legs around his waist. I cling to him like I never want to let him go.

Because I don’t.

Ever.

I attack his mouth, kissing him with maybe too much excitement.

He laughs against my lips. “Missed you too, baby, but uh—”

“Oh, hell no,” comes a voice from behind Soren. A voice that shouldn’t be here. “I’m all for you two being together, but that is not something I want to see. I prefer to think of Jet as a virgin, thank you very much.”

“Noah?” I squeak.

“Surprise,” Soren says and taps my leg.

Oh. I’m still wrapped around him.

I slowly lower myself to the ground and go to hug my brother. “What are you doing here?”

A towering giant steps into the room. “And a virgin? Jethro ain’t been a virgin since I was in diapers, probably.”

“Wade?” Holy shit, when did my baby brother grow up? And when did he get so tall? He’s skinny like me, but fuck … I don’t think I’ve seen anyone taller in real life before.