to be filled with so much regret.
“Denver.” I wanted to reassure him that it was fine. It was a mistake, but it didn’t change anything.
He averted his gaze. “I … I should go.”
“But—”
All I could see was Denver’s retreating form as it disappeared through the door. He vanished so quick I didn’t even have time to point out we were in his hotel room.
I didn’t know it then, but that would be the last I’d see or hear from Denver Smith.
Chapter Three
Denver
I’m known as the nice one. The one with the sweet face and kind heart.
Anyone who believes our perceived personas needs a pat on the head and a condescending “Oh, honey.” But it’s a role I’ve played for years. I need to keep up appearances.
That might go to hell if I’m forced to sit through another terrible audition. I’m this close to stabbing something with my pen. Preferably my ears. I suddenly understand why Simon Cowell is the way that he is.
Finally, after all the red tape and months of delay, Fandom is happening. And this first week has been a complete shitshow.
To save my voice, I should make up a sign that says, “Good try, but no. Sorry.”
And these were the ones who made it through prescreening auditions? Jesus H. Christ.
My fellow judges look as over it as I am. We’ve been on set for close to fourteen hours, and all the faces of the contestants are blurring together.
I take a sip of water which has the makeup artist running over to apply more ChapStick, and while she’s at it, she powders my face for the countless time today. My lips are shiny, and my skin is not.
This is saving my career.
Supposedly.
Am I regretting turning down Harley’s offer to get back together? Maybe. If it weren’t for the fact I haven’t spoken to Mason since Eleven broke up, I would probably take the leap.
But, I just … can’t. I don’t want to face him.
We promised we wouldn’t drift apart, but after I kissed him and ran away, it’s exactly what we did.
When his debut album tanked, I should have reached out, but I was too busy making sure my own career didn’t suffer the same fate.
Also being a good friend after my humiliation didn’t come easy. There’s a reason pride is one of the seven deadly sins, and that’s because it can fuck up entire friendships.
In the seven years Eleven was recording and touring, Mason and I grew close. When you spend every single day with someone for that long, it’s impossible not to bond. Then for someone as naïve as me with abandonment issues, that bond can get … confusing.
To this day, I still don’t know if what I felt for him was real or exaggerated in my mind. I’ve never had the urge to kiss another guy. Before or after Mason. But without a doubt, whenever I think about that night, longing pangs my gut. For our friendship, for more? I don’t even know anymore.
Like always when I start dwelling over my old friend, I force myself to ignore it and focus on my work. It’s the only thing I have left.
Alondra Casey, pop sensation from the nineties, is in the judging seat next to me, and she leans over. “I know I’m supposed to be the motherly one, but it’s really hard not telling these kids they’ll be eaten alive in this industry.”
I snort. “Right?”
“Do you think if I fake a diva tantrum, they’ll let us go home?”
She’s barely spoken two words to me all week, but I decide right here and now—I like her.
“Please do,” I beg.
She laughs.
Luckily, they call it before she needs to bring out the big guns. Thank God. Two whole days off.
“Might need to save that one for next week,” I say to her as we exit to our trailers. I need to get out of the clothes the wardrobe department picked out for me. We turn them in every day so they can wash them and rewear. We need to be in the same clothes for all the auditions on tape. That way they can mix the auditions up in edit and it will look like it was filmed in that order.
I climb the steps to my trailer and throw open the door. My shirt’s over my head, and my belt’s unbuckled a second later. Then a throat clears, and I practically jump out of my skin.
“Motherfucker,” I hiss.
“Now, now, Denny. What kind of good role model are you