Fandom (Famous #3) - Eden Finley Page 0,5
me,” Denver said. “But I’m out. I don’t feel like being on. Don’t you want to be the real Mason?”
“That’s the whole point of ending this, remember? But it’s our last night.”
Denver reached for a bottle of whiskey. “I think we’ve all been checked out a while, though.”
“Fine. We’ll chill in your hotel room.”
It was always better with just me and Denver anyway. I loved the other guys, but Denver and I had something real. It wasn’t a manufactured by proximity friendship.
I thought we’d all at least be together when the announcement of our end would come out, but after smiling for fans and being vague about our next nonexistent album, it was me and Denver, more whiskey, and Netflix on his hotel suite couch.
The notifications started pouring in a short time later.
“Here we go.” I looked at my phone.
“I turned mine off.” Denver was on the couch next to me, glass in hand, his shirt unbuttoned with a mess of loose curls falling into his eyes.
Then I noticed how utterly exhausted he looked.
Denver had a baby face, so it was like he couldn’t seem to ever age, but in that moment, he looked almost thirty. It was the first time I’d really seen him haggard, and after countless nine-month-long sold-out tours, I’d seen him at his worst.
“Hey, are you okay?”
He sipped his drink and looked contemplative. Over the years, I’d seen Denver in many different stages of drunk. From happy to sloppy and everything in between. He’d done it all.
This moment was his philosophical what is life? phase.
“I’ll be fine,” he said dismissively. “It’s just surreal at the moment.”
“But exciting. We get to do our own thing. Aren’t you ready for it?”
“I am, but …” He bit his lip. “I’m … scared.”
I loved that he wasn’t afraid to admit the emotional stuff to me. If I could help him, I would, and when he confided in me often, it made me feel needed. “What are you scared of?”
He shook his head. “Never mind. I’m being stupid.”
“Tell me. It’s me.”
“What if none of us sell? What if this isn’t only the end of Eleven but the end of our careers?”
“Denny …” I used his real name so he’d know how serious I was. “You have so much talent. Don’t let any labels or industry assholes tell you any differently. We’re all going to succeed. I trust in that.”
“What if you and I get too busy for each other?”
“Will never happen.”
“I’m used to seeing you every day. You’re my rock. You’re … everything to me. What if—”
I gripped his arm. “Stop with the what-ifs and look at the facts. We have millions of fans. Even if we don’t sell half of what we do now, we’re still going to be hitting charts and making names for ourselves. And you are gonna shine. I promise. I also promise I’ll be at the sidelines cheering you on every step of the way.”
“How can you be so positive about this?”
“I can’t help it. I’m naturally Zen.” I smirked.
“You so are not.”
“Namaste and all that other bullshit.” I threw my arm around him and brought him closer. “You and I are solid. Always will be.”
He turned his head to look up at me. “Promise?”
“Only if you promise back.”
“No matter what happens?”
“You could kill a man, and I’d still love you. You’re like my ki—”
Before I could get the words kid brother out of my mouth, Denver pressed his lips to mine.
Shock doesn’t begin to describe what I was going through. It took more than a second to get my bearings and a half second more to push him off me. “Wait, wait, wait, what the fuck is happening?”
Denver pulled out of my arms and stood. “You said you loved me.”
“Like a brother.”
He blinked at me.
“You … you know I’m not into guys, right? I’m not some closet case like Ryder and Harley. It’s cool if you are, but I didn’t think—”
He threw up his hands. “I’m not.”
“Then what—”
He ran his fingers through his shaggy hair. “I’m freaking out about Eleven breaking up, about the future, about being alone … I thought … I don’t know what I thought, but whatever it was, it was wrong. I’m sorry.”
I slowly stood. “Hey, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. It’s really not.”
I tried to touch him, to pull him into my arms so he knew I was there for him no matter what, but he flinched away.
“Don’t.” He sounded pained, and I didn’t know it was possible for one word