there they have been known to use children as pawns. Teenage suicide bombers. Distractions. Decoys. For all we knew, this kid was telling us to go a different direction and leading us to an actual ambush. We had the option to fight our way through or trust the child.”
“What did you do?”
“We hid.”
I knew that would surprise him. Harley’s eyebrows shoot up.
“For three days, we squatted in the desert while drones and aerial surveillance found us a safe passage out.”
“W-why are you telling me this? This makes me feel worse about my situation. You faced something monumentally huge. Like, life-threatening—”
“Harley, I told you this because you need to know it’s okay to do nothing. If your attacker had gotten to you, it wouldn’t have been your fault. What somebody else does is never your fault. And I bet you a hundred bucks, if you go in there and tell every single moment of your story, which, by the way, could have easily turned into a life-threatening situation, no one inside that party is gonna say, ‘Oh, wow, you’re a pussy for not fighting him.’ You managed to keep him calm, and you talked your way to safety. That is nothing to belittle.”
Harley’s mouth drops open. “I …”
I’d be lying if I said leaving Harley Valentine speechless didn’t warm my insides. I clap his shoulder. “You don’t need to thank me for the perspective. The shocked look on your face is thanks enough.”
His lips twitch. “Fine. But I’m still not comfortable talking about it.”
“And you don’t have to. Like I said, tell people you can’t legally talk about it.”
“Can we have a signal? Like, if I rub my ear, can you come shove a drink in my face and interrupt whatever conversation I’m having?”
“That isn’t on the ridiculously long list of rules you have for me,” I taunt. “In fact, isn’t one of them, Bodyguards should be barely seen and not heard at public events. Wear camo and be invisible.”
Harley’s lips flatten. “Which you aren’t wearing, by the way, so rule already broken.”
I cock a single brow at him.
He relents. “Okay, what if I scratch that one off and change it to Bodyguards must pretend to be my friend, work as conversation buffers, and hand me a drink every time I’m uncomfortable.”
I was gonna do it for him anyway, but I won’t tell him that. “I accept those terms.”
Harley goes to get out of the car. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Nuh-uh. Not so fast. You have to actually try to enjoy this. You need to get out of your head for a while.”
“Oh, then a party is so not where you should’ve brought me.”
“Where should I have taken you?”
“The beach.”
“At night?”
“No, but for future reference, I love going to the beach … until I’m recognized.”
“Noted. Let’s go.”
Chapter Seven
Harley
This is exactly the type of party I hated going to when Eleven was together. The guys loved being surrounded by fans and the attention they got, but I’ve never liked being put under a microscope.
And in those early days, we were constantly being watched by people paid to not let us do anything stupid. We were all underage when we started out, so even drinking was frowned upon, although we tended to get away with it because at least we weren’t doing blow in the bathroom.
Having that constant eye on me made me self-conscious.
Brix follows me past countless people who all follow me with their gaze but don’t bother to approach. I probably know half of them to some degree, but everyone knows you don’t go crazy fan on people at these parties. You’re supposed to be cool and used to being around celebrities.
We make a move to greet Denver—real name Denny—who’s in the middle of his living room talking to some actress I recognize from the latest teen franchise.
Age is weird in Hollywood, and these two are the reason.
Denver is taller than me and toned but not buff. He’s not skinny either. But his face? He is the youngest of us Eleven guys at twenty-four now, but he still looks fifteen—how old he was when we signed to the label. He has a baby face that is both adorable and disturbingly young-looking.
The actress, Heather someone, is almost thirty, but she’s playing a sixteen-year-old heroine on the big screen.
“Hey, you came.” Denver clasps my hand and brings me in for a man-hug back-slap.
“You thought I wouldn’t?”
“I suspected you might change your mind.”
“Fair call. I probably would’ve bailed if not for this guy.” I