Fandom (Famous #3) - Eden Finley Page 0,4

for once. Signing a major record deal when I was nineteen years old was a lot to process, and I hadn’t slowed down in seven years.

With everyone wanting me, a very full bank account, and endless accessibility to everything one could ever dream of, being in a boy band froze time for me.

I still felt like I was that nineteen-year-old, but I was ready for more responsibility and more artistic freedom.

Denver leaned in and said in my ear, “We did it.”

I didn’t hesitate to turn and pull him into a hug. That too was photographed and posted all over the internet, but it was okay with us. The media was too obsessed with #Ryley4Ever to even contemplate something going on between Denver and me. Then again, there were too many incriminating photos of Denver and me partying with girls over the years.

Blake was on the end of the line, quietly looking like he was going to have a panic attack. Out of the five of us, his voice wasn’t the strongest. He was usually reduced to harmonizing and backup vocals.

It was nostalgic leaving the stage as a group for the last time. The same sadness that hit me must’ve been getting to Denver too because his eyes became glassy as we went backstage.

We were ushered to our dressing room where Diva Harley got first dibs on the shower. He’d been a real pain in the ass toward the end there—more so than usual. He had been through a nasty breakup and had plans to marry a woman for publicity. It was messy.

We only had to get through a few more VIP appearances, and then we were out of there in time for our label to announce Eleven was over.

“What’ll it be for our send-off?” I asked. “Party? Club?”

“I’m out,” Ryder said. “Gotta get home to Kaylee.”

If Ryder had been anti-partying before, that was nothing compared to when he became a dad.

“Won’t she be asleep? She’s a baby,” I argued.

“She’s three, dude.”

“Since when?” How had the last three years gone that quickly?

“Since you didn’t come to her birthday party two months ago?”

Oops. Kids and I were not a great mix.

When you get engaged at nineteen with plans to immediately have a big family and love and happiness, it kind of puts a sour taste in your mouth when you find out your future wife was in it for the fame.

The Eleven fandom killed her budding career when they found out she cheated on me. Especially when they found out it was with a One Directioner.

Oh, the blasphemy!

That’s what the tabloids said, anyway. It was all alleged. I might not have known for sure if she fucked a 1D guy, but I did know I walked in on her in my house with some random producer who’d promised to cut her album seeing as my label refused to sign her because she couldn’t sing. Even me asking for a favor didn’t get her a deal with them.

After that, I said fuck relationships. Fuck marriage. And fuck having kids. That ties your life to someone else forever, and after that kind of heartbreak, I wasn’t looking for more.

Temporary and casual. That had been my motto since she who shall not be named moved out.

“All right, Ryder’s a no,” I said. “What about Harley?”

“Harley’s probably going to go home and record his first solo. We all know he’s been planning this for months,” Blake said.

“Okay, so it’s us three.”

Blake shook his head. “Nah, I’d rather not be out when all the shit goes down. Plus, what am I supposed to do now? I need to make a plan.”

“A plan? You keep recording. It’s what we do. It’s what we love.”

Blake ran a hand through his blond hair. “You guys maybe. I get the feeling this is the end of music for me.”

“Damn, brother. That’s heavy,” I said.

He moved toward the bathroom. “I’m gonna kick Harley out of there. I need … I need to not be in here.”

I turned to Denver. “You and me, then. What do you say to bottle service at … wait, what city are we in?”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather go back to the hotel and chill.”

I slumped. “You all are no fun in your old age.”

Denver grinned. “I’m only twenty-two.”

“And you’ve been in this industry for seven years already. In Hollywood years, you’re at least forty.”

“Oh, so your age?” he quipped.

I jabbed him in the ribs. “You’re a funny fucker, aren’t ya?”

“You’re welcome to join

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