Scorch (Homecoming Hearts Book 1) by HJ Welch (1)

Scorch

Homecoming Hearts #1

 

By HJ Welch

 

Scorch (Homecoming Hearts #1)

 

Copyright © 2017 by HJ Welch

 

ISBN-13: 978-1-9997067-3-9 

 

This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

 

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

 

DEDICATION

 

For Nick, Brian, Kevin, A.J. and Howie D.

No I’m not kidding.

 

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

 

The release of this book coincides with me taking the plunge and fulfilling my life-long ambition of becoming a fulltime author. Words are normally my jam, but I don’t think I can adequately thank all the people who have supported me on this journey, and will continue to do so. Mum, John, Dan, all the Welches and my dear friends. You are, put simply, the awesomest.

Thank you to my family and beta readers, Mum and John. Your dedication and enthusiasm gives me life. Thank you Dan, for the unyielding support that comes in a million different forms. Most notably, for making me a cat mom. All writers need kitties, everybody knows this.

Thank you to my awe-inspiringly talented author buddies. Alyson Pearce, Amelia Faulkner, Ed Davies, Aubrey Cullens, Lynn Van Dorn, Anna Martin. You guys deserve medals for all the freaks outs you’ve helped me with haha!

Special thanks to Aria Tan from Resplendent Media for the stunning cover and Meg Cooper for the excellent editing.

Also thank you to you, the reader, for choosing this book out of so many to take a chance on. I sincerely hope you enjoy.

 

Table of Contents

 

 

 

Elion

 

So far, Elion was having a pretty spectacular morning. He should have known it wasn’t going to last.

“Oh yeah, baby,” the guy, Todd, breathed into his ear. “You like that?”

He did, in fact, like it very much. He was pinned down on a soft mattress with clean cotton sheets while a gorgeous guy took him slowly from behind. He grabbed a fistful of bedding and moaned.

“You’re so hot,” Todd said. “You know that?”

Elion grinned. “Naturally. Now fuck me harder.”

Todd laughed and smacked his ass. “I’m gonna fuck you all morning, you minx.”

Elion had met Todd the night before at one of his favorite bars in Cincinnati. He was just Elion’s type. Muscled but not too big, great smile, smooth moves on the dance floor. And just a hint of devilment in his pretty blue eyes.

After an hour or two’s circling around each other, Elion had finally gone over and introduced himself. There had been a bit of chat, drinking, then finally back home to Todd’s place for a night of gloriously filthy sex.

Todd rubbed his stubble against Elion’s shoulder as Todd picked up the pace. Elion was still tender from the night before, but sometimes a bit of rough was just what he craved.

“Yes, yes,” Elion uttered. He pushed back so he was on all fours. That way Todd could get just the right angle to slam against his prostate.

In the daylight, he could now tell the room was well decorated and spacious. That wasn’t necessarily his primary concern just then, but it was better than a lot of bedrooms he’d found himself in in the past. It was possible this guy was the kind with his life together. Maybe this one was a keeper?

Elion snorted and rutted against Todd’s hard dick a bit more. He never picked keepers, that was sort of the point. But he hadn’t immediately wanted to run away from him that morning. Quite the opposite. As he felt his orgasm build, he allowed himself just a little bit of hope.

“Oh my God, babe,” Todd panted. He grabbed Elion’s hips and drove into him. “Gonna come. Take it, take it.”

Elion cried out incoherently and shot his load over the bedsheets, Todd shuddering against his ass. As his cock softened, he flopped on top of the mattress, trying his best to ignore the wet patch he’d landed in.

Todd eased out of him, disposed of the condom, then spooned against his side. “That was amazing.” Elion tried to school his grin, but it was difficult.

“Not bad,” he said with a shrug.

Todd tickled his side, making him yelp. “Not bad? I’ll show you not bad.”

Elion shut him up with a kiss. He ran his hands lightly over Todd’s hard abs, getting to know his larger body. “So, got much planned for the day?” he asked casually. It was a Saturday, after all.

“No. Stay,” Todd whispered. “I’ll make you eggs.”

Excitement bubbled up in Elion’s belly. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to stay with anyone for breakfast, let alone been asked. “Okay,” he whispered back.

Through the apartment, the front door slammed. “Babe?” a male voice called. “Are you home?”

Todd rocketed out of bed so fast he practically spun Elion out of his arms. “Fuck!” he hissed. “Jesus fucking Christ!”

“What?” asked Elion. He looked at the closed bedroom door, suspicion dawning on him.

“He wasn’t supposed to be back,” Todd cried quietly. He yanked on his pants. “You have to go.”

“Go?” Elion demanded. He looked out onto the fourth story balcony. “Where exactly? Who is that?”

“My husband,” Todd whispered, stricken. He leaned back on the bed, urgently cupping Elion’s face. Elion was too stunned to move away. “I really like you, I’ll call you, I promise. But it’s complicated. He can’t see you.”

Finally, Elion’s wits returned to him. “I think it’s pretty fucking uncomplicated,” he said. He jerked his head away and scrambled out of the bed. “You sleazy, lying-”

“No, no, no,” begged Todd. “Please – just, if you go on the balcony-”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Elion scoffed.

Mercifully, he found his jeans and yanked them on. His underwear was nowhere to be seen, but he could live without that. He fished his t-shirt from off of a drawer handle and located one solitary sneaker.

How could this have gone downhill so fast? He was still shaky from his orgasm, for crying out loud.

“You’re a piece of work.”

There was rustling from the interior of the flat. Even though they were whispering, Todd’s poor husband must have sussed out something was up by now.

Todd looked tearful. “I swear, things are on the way out for us. I really like you.”

Elion nodded, still trying to find his wayward shoe. There were certain things he could manage, but getting on the bus in his socks was not something he was prepared to do.

“Oh, yeah, you really showed how much you like me by lying out of your ass. Where’s my shoe?”

“Todd?”

“He’s in here!” Elion yelled back cheerfully. “Ah, there it is.”

He ignored Todd’s spluttering protests as he jammed his sneaker on his foot and the door swung inwards. An older guy stopped at the threshold, his wide eyes quickly narrowing in anger. “What the hell is this?”

Elion shook his head. “Sorry buddy,” he said, genuinely.

Luckily he’d not taken any of his jewelry off and his wallet and keys were still in his jeans pocket. So he ducked around the husband and darted for the door.

Now he could see the apartment in the daylight, he realized there were several photos of the couple displayed on the walls, on bookcases, on the fridge door. Elion swallowed. He’d been utterly played.

Thank God he hadn’t given Todd his number. The fact that he had been tempted to made him feel sick.

The shouting started before he quite made his escape, but he didn’t hesitate. Todd hadn’t been wearing a wedding band; he’d checked. This wasn’t his fault.

So why did he feel so guilty? He jogged down the central stair-well, past a man and a woman in workout gear. His ass was tender and wet. His jeans chafed without his boxers on.

He always did this to himself. It was like he knew how to pick out the worst guys. Like gaydar, but for dick bags. He’d been a fool to think that Todd might be different, even for a second.

He yanked at the exterior door…and it didn’t budge. He whimpered, fighting back the self-pitying sob that lurked in his throat. There had to be a button or something he could push. He just needed to get out of there.

This was ridiculous; he needed to get a grip. He hadn’t gone out last night looking for a boyfriend, only a good time. Until two minutes ago he’d had exactly that.

There was no denying though that he was feeling extremely cheap. The sunlight beyond the locked doors seemed to be mocking him and his misfortune with its joyfulness. He tugged on the metal handle again and scanned the walls for a button of any sort. There was a panel, but when he pushed it, it did nothing.

Just as he was about to flip his lid, a middle-aged lady with permed, greying hair approached the door from the other side. A long-haired chihuahua trotted along by her side. She fished a key fob from her purse and swiped it over an identical panel to the one Elion had tried to activate.

The door clicked, and she pushed her way inside.

“Oh, wow, thank you,” said Elion with a nervous laugh. “I was kind of stuck for a minute there.”

The woman looked him up and down. She took in his light brown skin, tattoo, several rings and the pink tips of his dark hair. She said nothing.

“You have a great day now,” Elion called after her, his hand raised. She didn’t look back.

He just managed to catch the door before it slammed. Unfortunately, he had no idea where in the city he was, and he didn’t need to check his bank balance to know it was a bad idea to take a cab. He’d be lucky if he could scrape together enough for the bus fare home.

Squinting against the sunlight, he made a snap decision to turn left over right. He began heading down the sidewalk hoping he’d come across a bus stop soon enough. Then he could work out how to transfer to his usual line and head back home. His phone was dead, so he had no idea what time it was, let alone the ability to look at a map.

He rubbed his forehead. This would all be a funny story he could tell the guys at work later, no doubt. But right then, it just felt like a bad joke.

It served him right for breaking the rules. The second he allowed himself to think about more than sex, it all blew up in his face. He took a deep, long breath, and closed his eyes, smiling against the sunshine.

Everything was fine. After all, he could be that poor chump who’d just walked in on his husband cheating. He had the day off, he’d gotten laid, and he’d managed to escape with both shoes on his feet.

So what if Todd had turned out to be a douche? There were plenty more fish in the sea. Maybe next time Elion might even meet somebody halfway decent. Someone he could possibly consider dating. Other people did it, after all. Why couldn’t he?

Until then he would continue having fun. Life was too short to mope over some cheating ass hat. Even if he had offered to cook him breakfast. Elion knew how to make his own eggs; he didn’t need a boyfriend for that.

As he flagged down the bus approaching the stop he’d found, he noted that ‘need’ and ‘want’ were two very different things. Of course he didn’t need a boyfriend.

But he might want one. Just a little.

 

Blake

 

Blake didn’t know it, but everything was already set in motion before his plane even touched the ground.

He rested his head on the small glass window and watched the Cincinnati airport circle into view. One step closer to home. One step closer back to a normal life.

With a sigh he shifted his weight and tried not to disturb the sleeping woman in the seat next to him. The flight from L.A. was only four hours, but she had been unconscious the entire way. Blake was grateful. He didn’t feel like making small talk.

Several people had recognized him as he’d made his way through check-in and security earlier. He hadn’t minded signing a few autographs for the kids, but some older fans had asked if the rumors were true.

Had Below Zero really broken up?

He scoffed and arched his back, making his back pop. He needed to stretch.

It really depended on your definition of ‘broken up.’ If it was ‘dumped unceremoniously without so much as a thank you from their record label,’ then, yes. The band had broken up. ‘Creative differences,’ the press conference had said.

That was horseshit. But of course their contract stopped Blake and the four other guys from badmouthing Sun City Records anywhere. Even after getting let go, they still had to toe the line. Unless they wanted to get sued.

For the past few years, Blake hadn’t gone a day without being told where to go, what to wear, when to work out, and how much he could eat. All of it with Joey, Raiden, TJ and Reyse by his side. Now he was traveling alone, set adrift, with no idea what he was going to do with his life.

A voice came over the intercom announcing that they were beginning their decent and to make sure passengers had their seats and tray tables upright. Blake bit his thumbnail and continued looking out the window.

It was hard not to feel like he’d let down his parents, who’d thrown everything into his success. But when it came down to it, Below Zero’s last record had been produced too fast, not marketed well enough, and sales had suffered. There’d been nothing he could do.

It wasn’t the end of the world, he knew. But at the same time, this had been his whole life for five years. Now he was just Blake Jackson of Perryville, Ohio again. A twenty-something who used to be famous.

Not that he’d miss the celebrity. He’d never gotten used to the constant attention or strangers knowing his name. It had been bearable with the other guys by his side. However, the prospect of going back to his small home town was actually appealing when coupled with the hope that he wouldn’t be bothered nearly as much as when he was traveling.

As the plane bumped down onto the tarmac he nodded to himself. Things weren’t so bad. If he could find a way to nurture his love of dance and stay in touch with the guys, maybe everything would be okay.

It wouldn’t be a struggle to keep talking with Joey. They had shared an apartment back in L.A. and been best buddies, pretty much inseparable. Sure enough, when Blake switched his phone off of airplane mode he had a couple of messages already waiting from him.

Joey sure as hell wasn’t going home. He was sticking it out in L.A. and already had a new agent getting him auditions. Blake truly wished him the best of luck. But he would miss him.

Raiden, like Blake, had cut his losses and was already back in Kentucky with his folks considering what to do now. TJ’s entire plan seemed to be to party so hard his Instagram was in danger of overloading and his liver failing. At least he was having fun. Allegedly. 

Then there was Reyse. Blake sighed and waited for the seatbelt light to turn off. He didn’t begrudge Reyse Hickson anything. He was his friend and he wished him all the best. But there had never been any doubt as to who the most talented member of the five of them was.

It was easy to guess the real reason behind the label’s decision to drop the band. They’d already hitched their wagon to what promised to be a far more successful solo artist.

The woman beside Blake finally woke with a snort and looked around as if she had no idea where she was. “We’ve landed,” said Blake when she looked at him.

“Oh, right,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. “Thanks. Hey, aren’t you from that band? The one with the ‘Oh oh oohh’ song?”

She sang the ‘Ohs’ badly, but enough for Blake to recognize it as Hearts Bound, their most successful track. “Um, yeah. That’s us.”

He did his best to be patient with the woman as she started grilling him on the music video for that song. Apparently, their live performance at the MTV Awards was much better, and they should have made a video like that. He smiled politely and did his best to sound sympathetic.

But he was trapped until their row was allowed to slide out and disembark. He didn’t really feel like defending things the band and their management had done when he still felt like everything was too raw.

He was able to distract her by getting her carryon down from the overhead bin. Then he let a family ahead of him, so the woman was swept away in the tide of people.

A pretty air stewardess standing by the door gave him a blush and bright smile as he went past, but he didn’t mind that so much. “Thank you for traveling with us Mr. Jackson!” she blurted as he went past. He gave her a smile back and felt like he’d made her day.

That side of fame was nice. It was when people felt you owed them something despite never having even met them that grated on his nerves. Still, he was grateful for all the success he’d had, and refused to resent it.

Blake sighed as he made his way off of the plane. With his sunglasses and baseball cap to cover his golden hair it helped to avoid people recognizing him. But he still hurried through baggage claim and through the terminal to Arrivals.

It was sort of pathetic that his life fit pretty much into two huge cases and a carryon bag. Admittedly, he’d left a fair number of things with Joey. Mostly silly knick-knacks. He didn’t expect to ever see them again. Just maybe this way, Joey wouldn’t feel so alone.

He stopped before he and his bags rolled out into the waiting area. There had been a few times when fans had been waiting to great him on the other side of the barriers. Hopefully this wouldn’t be one of those occasions.

He had other messages, but he fired off a quick few words to Joey first, telling him he’d landed and asking how his audition that morning had gone. Blake worried about him keeping up with the rent even though Blake had paid his half up until next month. Joey was as stubborn as he was gentle though, so with any luck he’d be okay.

That wasn’t Blake’s concern right then though. He’d done what he could for his buddy. Now, he needed to think about himself.

Typically, his parents hadn’t come themselves. According to one of his many texts, they’d sent him a car instead. A driver in a well-cut black suit and tie was waiting for him with a placard that simply read ‘Blake Jackson’ on it. He walked towards him, keeping his head down.

He’d like to think his mother hadn’t added ‘Below Zero’ to the sign out of respect for his privacy. But deep down he knew it was because she was so mad at the label she was already set on putting it behind them. Omitting the band name was simply an act of spite Sun City would never know about.

The driver was nice enough. Pleasant, but painfully formal, insisting on taking Blake’s bags across the concourse, then not uttering another word.

Blake couldn’t help but look at other families being reunited. Little kids waiting on tiptoes with bunches of flowers. Couples embracing tearfully. When they reached the curb outside one guy in military gear dropped unashamedly to the ground to scoop up his frenzied German Shepherd.

That wasn’t the kind of greeting Blake had ever expected here today. So he swallowed down the ridiculous lump in his throat and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. No one particularly gave him a second glance, and for that he was grateful.

He dozed throughout the drive, despite it only being mid-afternoon. Cincinnati International was also the Northern Kentucky Airport. So technically, they started out of state then drove around the city to reach Perryville.

“Home sweet home,” Blake murmured heavily as they got off the interstate.

He pressed his temple against the cool window glass and watched all the neatly trimmed lawns go past. Everything was so low here. Cincinnati had its fair share of tall buildings to make the skyline vaguely interesting. And Perryville, like most of Ohio, had plenty of hills. But it was like the buildings barely dared climb above a second story.

The grass and trees were a lush green, thriving in the spring weather. Sadly, the buildings were an overwhelming wash of grays and whites, all blending into one.

Blake knew these streets, and yet he didn’t. He wouldn’t get lost if he had to find his way home. But what did this town really hold for him? Who lived behind these doors now?

When fame had come calling, he had been more than happy to leave it all behind without a second thought. Now, this was all he had, and he had no clue what ‘this’ was.

It was still early days, he told himself sternly. And he was definitely still young enough. He could do anything. He just had to put his heart into it.

His family home was on a quieter road. It was set further back from the sidewalk after a long stretch of lawn. Oak trees bordered the property. They were taller than both the dark slate roof and telephone poles running down the street.

Unlike most of the other homes in the town, the Jackson residence was a rich brown with large stones set into the walls. The darker tones gave it grandeur and Blake tried not to gulp as the car swung into the driveway.

He’d last visited a few months ago at Christmas. His parents were generally more interested in flying out to see him in L.A. or on tour. Jodi got dragged along whether she liked it or not.

He smiled. At least he was genuinely stoked to see his kid sister.

The driver helped him with his bags again, but nipped back into the car before Blake could offer a tip. His parents probably took care of that on their account. It still made him feel kind of cheap.

Great. Just what he needed as he walked up to their four-story mansion.

It didn’t feel right to use his key. It felt even dumber to ring the bell, but that was what he did before he got caught loitering.

Footsteps and voices filtered through the mahogany door. They were then punctuated by scrabbling claws and the tell-tale piercing howl of a certain naughty girl.

“Watson!”

As soon as the door opened Blake dropped to his knees. He knew he should probably greet his family first, but none of them would be half as pleased to see him as the three-year-old beagle that launched into his arms.

“Who’s a good girl? Did you miss me? Did you?”

Eventually, he couldn’t delay looking up any longer. In one motion he lifted his gaze to meet his parents’ eyes and stood. His shoulders ached a little where he pulled them back. His dad’s face was a mask, but his mom’s crumbled as he soon as he gave her a weak smile.

“Oh sweetheart,” she cried. She was several inches shorter than him, yet somehow still managed to throw her arms around his neck. “Don’t worry. We’ve got it all figured out.” She sniffed and hugged him tighter.

Blake gingerly patted her on the back. He didn’t trust himself to say anything, but dread welled up in his gut. What was ‘all sorted out’ supposed to mean?

Without his mom, he probably would have been content to dance in local shows and compete for state titles and the like. She’d always been the one with the big dreams, so the band’s demise was probably taking a greater toll on her than it was him.

When she let him go his father clasped his shoulder with a large hand, squeezing tightly. There was no mistaking where Blake had inherited his stature from. Richard Jackson had the height and shoulders of a linebacker and the jaw and steely eyes of a huntsman. It was part of what made him so intimidating in court.

Blake was no stranger to have his photo taken. He was glad he always saw a warmth in himself that he’d never once seen in his father. Not even in times like these, where, presumably, he was offering comfort.

“Welcome home, son.”

Blake dragged his bags over the threshold into the foyer, Watson skipping around underfoot. Then, finally, he felt a familiar solid punch to his arm.

“Took you long enough, jerk.”

“Jodi!” their mother admonished, appalled. But Blake just grinned.

“Hey sis,” he said, pulling her slim but wiry frame into his arms. As usual, she was dressed in athletic gear with her long hair up in a ponytail. “You got big.”

“Can you believe our baby’s going to college in the fall?” their mom cooed.

Jodi rolled her eyes as their mom placed her hands on her shoulders from behind and shook her.

“Don’t jinx it,” Jodi said tiredly.

“We’re waiting to hear back from the NKU scouts,” their dad said gravely.

Blake’s eyebrows shot up. “Northern Kentucky? They want you to play softball?” Jodi shrugged, like it didn’t mean the world to her. “Dude, that’s incredible!” It was his turn to thump her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because we don’t know anything yet,” Jodi told him.

She called Watson to heel from where she was still winding between their legs, her tail whacking into everyone’s shins. For a small dog, she certainly managed to make her presence well known. Jodi then turned and the two of them marched purposefully across the entrance hall, past the stairs and down the corridor towards the kitchen.

Blake swallowed the lump in his throat. This one felt an awful lot like guilt. He’d missed a lot by being away.

His mom wrapped her hands around his thick bicep and tugged. “Come on sweetie, we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

 

Blake

 

The guilt morphed back to nerves as Blake let his parents steer him to the kitchen after his sister and their dog. As much as he wasn’t sure what he was going to do now, he had nurtured the vague hope he’d be allowed two seconds to catch his breath before the subject of his uncertain future cropped up.

The kitchen was about the size of his and Joey’s entire flat back in L.A. The center was dominated by a large marble island with tall, white stools planted around at regular intervals. Jodi was already sitting with a carton of juice. Watson was dutifully by her feet, waiting for the drama to begin.

Blake nervously ran his thumb up and down the glass of iced tea he was handed. “Thanks,” he said automatically.

“Oh honey, don’t look so blue.”

His mom hopped up onto one of the stools. Like Jodi, she was kitted out in work out gear, although Blake suspected this was the kind of outfit she wore traveling to yoga or pilates or step class. It was too expensive actually be sweated in.

“Winners don’t wear frowns, they wear…”

Blake was sorely tempted to snap that he wasn’t thirteen any more. But his dad was there, standing by the fridge with his arms crossed.

“Crowns,” Blake supplied wearily.

His mom gave a little clap. “Now, look at both my babies here, together. Jodi is on the up and up and so! Are! You!” She punctuated the last three words with a wag of her manicured finger towards Blake’s face across the island table. “I told you your Momma had your back.”

Blake swallowed. “Mom…” he began.

I just need a break. I haven’t even been up to my room. I want to sleep.

She waved her hand then grinned like a cat with a canary. “How would you like to dance?”

“Right now?”

She tutted patiently. “All the time. For a career.”

Hope fluttered tentatively through Blake’s chest. All he’d ever wanted to do was dance. Singing had come a distant, awkward second to that feeling of his body moving perfectly in time to the music.

“I’d love to,” he managed to stammer.

His mom clapped again. However Jodi bit her lip and focused on stroking Watson’s big, floppy ears. There was something he was missing.

“Well,” said his mom. She laid her hands flat on the counter top and fixed him with her bright, blue eyes, the lashes spiky with black mascara. “You remember that old community center over near the international market? The strip with the discount tire store and pizzeria?”

Blake blinked at the non-sequitur. “Uh, yeah?”

She waved her hand at his confusion. “They did it up. Or, they are doing it up. And thanks to a generous donation from your dad’s firm, it’ll be completed in no time.”

Blake still wasn’t getting it. But he raised an eyebrow at his dad, who simply nodded once back him. “That’s good.”

His mom was getting agitated that he wasn’t connecting the dots she was giving him quicker. “We got first dibs on the space. It’s yours, every week day three thirty until six, and every Saturday nine until seven!”

Heat prickled cross Blake’s skin. He was supposed to have guessed by now, but he couldn’t see what she was saying. He didn’t need all the time and space to dance. Sure, the mirrors, if they had them, would be nice. But he could totally just use one of the rooms here for a studio.

He felt a hand slip over his fingers. He didn’t realize he’d clenched into fists and he tried to relax.

Jodi gave him a small smile and squeezed her long fingers against his knuckles. “To open a dance school,” she said softly. “To teach.”

For a moment Blake couldn’t breathe. Then it was like all the air rushed into his lungs at once and he gasped embarrassingly loudly. “Are you serious?” he cried. He tried to stop the tears welling in his eyes. Men didn’t cry, after all. But of all the ways he thought this God-awful week could end, he never thought this would be it.

“That depends,” his mom replied, clutching her hands to her chest. “Are you happy?”

Blake stumbled off his chair and threw his arms around her small frame, making her squeal in delight. “This is the best… I can’t… How did you?”

She laughed and he felt his dad pat his back. “You’ve worked hard, son,” he said. Blake pulled away to look at him. “You deserve this.”

“We already have some potential other teachers for you to meet,” his mom gushed excitedly. “And thanks to some quick old-fashioned flyering by my girlfriends we’ve already got so much interest for auditions. That is, if this is what you want?”

Blake shook his head, the grin on his lips threatening to split his head in two. “Want? Mom. Dad.” He looked at each of them in turn and squeezed Jodi’s hand. “This is a dream come true.”

His mom slapped her own hand in a sort of self-high-five and jumped down from her stool.

“Great, this is just great. Baby, I knew you’d love it. See! Momma knows best! Okay.” She started fiddling with the collar of her pink velour sweatshirt. “Did you get that?” she asked cheerfully. Blake wasn’t sure who she was speaking to.

Without warning, a stranger walked into the kitchen from the hall. Blake jerked in surprise, quickly looking to his folks for an explanation.

“Yeah, that was great Jenna,” said the petite, dark-haired guy. He was looking at a small video camera in one hand and adjusting the head-set he was wearing with the other. He paid no attention to Blake, despite his spluttering. “Let’s set up the shot again for some medium close ups, and get the boom mic in to grab better audio off of Blake.”

“What – Mom?” Blake’s heart was hammering against his chest as he floundered. Jodi still wore the same scowl she’d had at the front door. His mom was all a-twitter and his dad simply continued to loom.

“Honey,” said his mom. She placed her hand on the small of his back and steered him towards the guy who was still only paying attention to his technical gear. “This is Seth, our show runner. I’m sorry to spring that on you, but we all know acting isn’t your strong suit. We had to get the real surprise on camera.”

“Hey man,” said Seth. He still didn’t look up from the playback screen, instead walking over to a laptop a P.A. had appeared with from out of nowhere.

Blake’s brain was whirring at an alarming rate. There was no room to consider anything beyond the fact there was a dude with a fucking camera in his home. And not just him. Now a chubby, dark-skinned guy had materialized from behind where Blake had been sitting. He was carrying a boom mic while three people with cameras positioned themselves around the island counter.

“Why is there a film crew?” Blake demanded. He didn’t want to get too angry with his dad beside him. The last thing he wanted was a fight. But he was pretty fucking pissed. What the hell were these people doing? Was the dance school thing even real?

“Honey!” cried his mom as a tall woman with ear gauges moved Blake into place in front of one of the cameras. “What point is there opening a dance school if no one knows about it?” Well at least she hadn’t been faking about that.

“By releasing the content directly ourselves online,” his dad’s low voice rumbled, “we control the output and take the lion’s share of the advertising profits.”

“It’s perfect!” his mom cooed.

“Can I give you this mic pack, Mr. Jackson?” Ear Gauge Girl held up a small, black box with an antenna and a cylindrical microphone the size of his thumbnail. Experience told Blake the box was the battery pack and sure enough, the girl slipped it into his jeans’ pocket leaving him to thread the mic wire up under his t-shirt.

But he just held the bullet shaped device between his finger and thumb. Counting to ten wasn’t working. He kept getting to three or four then his temper flared again. The breaths he was taking weren’t quite reaching his lungs. “You want me to make a TV show?”

His dad moved from by the fridge. Now Blake was looking for them, he could see that he, his mom and Jodi were all discreetly wearing the microphones too.

“After everything we’ve invested into you son, we couldn’t let you down.” He landed his heavy hand on Blake’s shoulder. “This is your future.”

“We have to strike while you’re still hot,” his mom told him, shaking her fist.

Somehow, Blake’s feet were moving, and he found himself sat back on the same stool as before. It was his usual spot at the table. He’d eaten Lucky Charms here and done his Spanish homework. Now there was a camera lens in his face and a boom mic above his head.

Jodi hadn’t moved. Neither had Watson by her feet. As the crew rearranged to set up the shot, a smile lit up Jodi’s face again. Leaning over, she gave Blake’s wrist a tight squeeze, digging her fingernails in. The sharp pain focused Blake, bringing his attention back into the room, clearing his head.

Still smiling, Jodi winked at him.

“Just go with it,” she said between her teeth, barely moving her lips.

“Okay,” said Seth loudly. “Reset for take. Jacksons as you were. This is a special. Blake.” He looked up at the sound of his name and met Seth’s gaze for the first time. “We won’t ordinarily ask you to repeat a scene, but like your mom explained, the first shot was for authenticity.” He looked back down at his camera screen. “We’ll grab some pick-ups of you looking confused, happy, then re-do the hug. All set?”

There were several nods of consent, then Blake realized they seemed to be waiting on him. “Uh, yeah,” he stammered. He’d done more than enough work in front of a camera. In the past though, he’d always known he was going to be filmed before it had begun.

What had happened? He’d walked through the door thinking he’d take a week or two off to re-evaluate his life. Of course, teaching dance had crossed his mind as an option many times. He wasn’t sure how to set up something like that. But for thirty seconds he’d believed his parents had covered it and he was actually going to be able to do something that he truly loved, away from the spotlight.

Now there was a makeup girl powdering his face and two lights set up behind the camera with a reflector angled to give him the best coverage. His heart was still racing and cold sweat was running down his back. But he dug his thumbnail discreetly into his palm and took in a slow, steading breath.

“Alright,” Seth cried. He settled himself into one of the seats, pointing his camera at Blake’s mom. “And…rolling!”

There was nothing Blake could do but smile.

 

Elion

 

There weren’t many places Elion would consider to be even fractionally sophisticated in Perryville. But the Cool Beans coffee house certainly tried its best. The attempt to pull off Seattle-style chicness was adorable. At least the owners were trying for original.

Which was probably why it was the only place he’d stuck around long enough to hold down a job. Good vibes, little responsibility, easy routine. There were worse ways to earn a buck.

However, there were days like this where he felt like he’d rather be broke and living on the street than have to deal with a single customer again in his whole life.

“Yeah, I know!” chattered the young woman on her cell at the front of the queue. She wore a frilly blouse that, were Elion interested in such a sight, offered a great view of her firm breasts. “No!”

Being a Friday afternoon the place was pretty packed. She didn’t seem to notice the tuts and eye rolls she was already getting.

“Can I help you, Ma’am?” Elion prompted her.

 She held a finger up to him and flipped her wavy hair over her shoulder. “Uh huh,” she said, nodding. “Uh huh. Yeah, that’s what I said.”

Elion sighed and looked around at the rest of the patrons. His colleague Devon was already serving the next guy in line, so all Elion could do was wait until this chick deigned to give him her order.

The lighting was dim on purpose to make the place seem cozy, even during the day. Naked brickwork walls and lightbulbs hanging above the counter gave it an industrial sort of feel. The bunting and mounted vintage bicycle on the wall meant the atmosphere leaned more towards hipster. All their menus were written by hand on chalkboards.

One of the owners, Lily, picked wildflowers herself every day. It was one of her favorite chores of a morning to arrange them in glass milk bottles to display on the counter and the dozen round, wooden tables.

Almost all the squishy armchairs around those tables were occupied, and the queue was getting longer. A tickling bell signaled to Elion than more patrons had just arrived.

“Ma’am?”

“Yeah, hang on babe,” said the woman into the phone. She placed her hand over the receiver.  “Sorry sweetie, I’ll just take a Unicorn Frap.” She took her hand away again and began twirling her hair. “So, like I said, he totally didn’t care-”

Elion sighed and looked over at Devon. She gave him a sympathetic shrug and started serving a guy in cycling gear. Elion purposefully didn’t make eye contact with anyone else in the line, especially as the next couple seemed to be having an in depth conversation. Although they weren’t happy about something, they looked to be the only ones not pissed at him.

“Ma’am,” Elion said again. He plastered his best shit-for-brains grin on. “They only serve those at Starbucks.”

She raised her perfectly painted on eyebrow at him. “Huh?”

“It’s trademarked,” he said cheerfully. He folded his hands onto the counter in front of him, still grinning. “If I made you one, they’d sue the fuck out of us faster than you could drink it. How about you try ordering something else?”

The girl frowned into the phone, then looked back over at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. If there’s no unicorns, I’ll take a popcorn instead.”

Elion hopped to the side and pointed helpfully up at the drinks menu. “No Frappuccinos. They are aaaalll very trademarked. By Starbucks. Which is two blocks over.”

She blinked and looked around her, as if only noticing where she was in that moment. “Oh,” she said sulkily. “Okay, well, there’s no need to get rude about it.”

Using all his will power, Elion clung on to his smile, despite his gritted teeth. “You have a great day now!” he called after her, giving a single wave over his head.

“Lily will kill you if she catches you cussing at patrons,” said Devon. She raised a pierced eyebrow at him. “Again.”

Elion blew a raspberry at her. “Like Ms OMG heard me through that fog of cheap hairspray. Anyway, who’s next!”

The couple were still talking intently. The girl – and she was a girl – probably first year of college or still at high school – was tall and athletic looking. Her Perryville High Panthers t-shirt confirmed as much. The guy was older and oh boy was Elion pleased to get an extra second while they talked to drink him in.

Young Captain America brightened up the room with his golden hair, swept neatly to the side and falling just above his ears. His broad shoulders looked to hold a great weight, his woes emphasized by the frown on his pretty face. He had his big hands shoved in his designer jeans. He was nodding at something the girl was saying.

Their body language as they moved around the other guy’s bike to Elion’s side of the counter didn’t say romantic couple. The angles of their torsos were all wrong. His heart picked up. Could this Abercrombie model potentially be single?

Whether he was interested in guys was purely optional and not something Elion needed to concern himself with to have a flight of fancy. He was the most gorgeous specimen to saunter into this joint in a long time. Elion was suddenly grateful to Unicorn Lady for holding up the line meaning he could be the one to serve him.

“It’s just so un-fucking-believable,” hissed Blondie. “She’s lost her mind!”

Panthers Girl sighed with real sympathy. “But this way you at least get to dance.”

“It’s – it’s a farce! I don’t want to be some fake reality housewife…whatever!”

He looked so troubled it tugged on Elion’s heart. Someone that gorgeous didn’t deserve to be that unhappy. He decided these guys could maybe get free cookies, if he was stealthy enough. He dug out his most sincere smile.

“Good afternoon, how can I-oh holy fuck!” He slapped his hand over his mouth, clunking a ring against his teeth. “Sorry, but – Blake, is that you?”

The guy turned from the girl to fully face him. “Um?”

Shit, he looked uncomfortable. “Sorry, sorry,” said Elion, waving his hands apologetically. “But you’re Blake Jackson, right?” He pointed at himself. “Elion Rodriguez. You probably don’t remember, but we took Miss Dixon’s English Lit together for like three years running. And Biology with that dude with the yellow fingernails.”

Realization dawned on Blake’s face. Elion exhaled in relief. “Mr. Pritchard,” he said.

“That’s the one,” said Elion excitedly. He clicked his fingers. “Wow, how you been? Seriously, it must be what? Five years?”

Blake nodded. “About that,” he said. He reached over and offered Elion his hand, so he leaned over the counter and shook it. “It’s good to see you.”

His eyes quickly raked over the pink tips of Elion’s black hair and the tattoo on his wrist. Sure, he was on the skinny side compared to Blake, but he knew he looked okay. If you didn’t mind a more alternative style. Which a lot of folks around here did.

Blake smiled though. “You too. You working here?”

“Yeah,” said Elion, spreading his hands out as if to say ‘this is me!’

“Allegedly,” Devon coughed into her hand.

Elion gave her the finger. “Right, Blake. What can I get you? And…” He looked expectantly at the girl.

“Jodi,” she said. She jabbed her hand towards him for a shake of her own. “Blake’s sister. So, you guys went to high school together?”

“The boy needs a drinks order,” an older lady griped from behind them. “Then you can flirt.”

“I can do both, Ma’am,” Elion assured her with a salute.

For all his bravado though, he glanced nervously at Blake and his sister. He hadn’t forgotten how loaded the Jacksons were, and here he was, slumming it at a lowly coffee shop.

“We’ll take two cappuccinos,” said Blake, fishing out a leather wallet.

Elion spun and got the milk foaming. “So, like, how’s that popstar thing going?” he asked casually over his shoulder. Like everyone knew someone who’d gone on release several top forty hits. “Guess that ‘Most Likely to be Famous’ award worked out pretty accurately, huh?”

He turned back around to get the espresso machine going. But Blake’s face had fallen and his jaw was tight. Jodi sighed and placed a hand on her brother’s firm bicep under the tight t-shirt he wore.

Shame washed over Elion like a cold bucket of water. He’d one hundred percent fucked up.

“Sorry,” he blurted. He grabbed two cups and saucers so he could occupy his attention elsewhere. “You probably get people bugging you about that all the time. I’m just happy to see you.”

Like that wasn’t sycophantic. Blake didn’t know who he was. He had no idea of all the hours Elion had spent staring dreamily at the back of his head in Trig. He was a million years out of his league, and straight as an arrow to boot. He needed to get a hold of himself.

Blake, though, handed over the cash for the coffees with a small but seemingly genuine smile. “It’s not that,” he said. “The band sort of broke up.”

“Below Zero broke up?” a young woman from down the line blurted out.

Elion, Blake and Jodi turned to see most of the coffee house were looking at them. Had they all been listening in?

Blake shifted his shoulders and cracked a smile. The tension from before all but vanished. “Yeah. We’re sad to let our fans down, but there were creative differences and we felt it best to part ways while we’re all still friends.”

That was the most rehearsed PR bullshit Elion had ever heard spoken in real life.

Jodi scowled and stepped protectively closer to her brother as people crowded around him, answering more questions and signing autographs.

“Are you still recording?”

“Does that mean you’ve moved back?”

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry!”

Jodi nudged the cups back towards Elion. “Can we get these to go?” she asked under her breath.

Elion didn’t need telling twice.

“I didn’t mean to throw him to the wolves like that.” He hastily poured the hot liquid into two cardboard cups. 

Jodi shook her head at him though, swishing her long ponytail from side to side. “He’s just having a bad day.”

“Still,” said Elion, handing their drinks back to her. “Tell him I’m sorry.” Then, because it was hard to make his mouth listen to his brain at the best of times… “If he comes back in, his next cappuccino’s on me. And yours.” 

The serious expression she had worn until now lifted. “Thank you,” she said and touched the back of his hand. It wasn’t flirtatious at all, but warm. “I’m sure we will.”

The Jacksons made their polite, but swift, exit not long after that. Elion was impressed that even though Jodi was younger, she was the one to steer them towards the door without offending a single patron.

Elion hadn’t noticed Devon sidling up to his side. Everyone was too busy ogling the local celeb to focus on ordering coffees or muffins in that moment. She bumped her shoulder against his and smirked.

“So that was fun.”

“That wasn’t fun,” said Elion. His voice didn’t squeak, definitely not. “That was…like one of those dreams where you show up naked to an exam.”

Devon licked her lips and smacked her hand firmly against his ass. “No one was naked here hun. Let’s hope you get luckier next time.”

He spluttered, but she’d already moved back to the counter to serve the first person that had grown bored of the drama.

Elion tended to the next few patrons in a daze. Of all the people that could have walked through the door that day, he would never have expected Blake Jackson to be one of them.

He was pretty sure he’d done okay. He replayed the conversation over and over again in his mind. As far as he could tell, he’d not humiliated himself, even though he felt bad for drawing the attention of the crowd.

The chances of Blake coming back in were probably slim. Even if the band were no more, an Adonis like that was meant for bigger things than Perryville, Ohio. He still amused himself daydreaming about flirting the next time, giving Blake that free coffee.

Which reminded him, he’d already earmarked two cookies to give away. Seeing as they were wrapped now, it didn’t seem right to put them back on the counter. So he gave them to an exhausted young mom with one kid wailing in a stroller and the other straining against his leash. The tearful thanks the mom gave him lifted his spirits further.

Even if Blake was only in town for a week, this was the best coffee place in town that wasn’t a bland mega-chain. He was bound to come back.

Elion spent the rest of his shift singing along, poorly, with the radio, dodging the coffee beans Devon regularly threw his way, and smiling at every single customer he served.

 

Blake

 

Ultimately, it had been better to do what Jodi said and go with the flow. Once Blake accepted that the TV show was happening, he could try and simply ignore the film crew and focus on what mattered.

His mom had named the school the ever-so-subtle Blake Jackson Academy, and the show the very-questionable Feet of Flames. Blake really wasn’t convinced about either. It wasn’t worth arguing though, so he’d thrown himself into preparing for the open auditions. Those had taken place that morning.

He’d been delighted at the turnout. It probably hadn’t hurt that his face had been on the flyers his mom’s friends had put into the entire town’s mailboxes. So they’d had all sorts swarm through the doors of the new dance studio, the smell of fresh paint still lingering in the air.

Tiny toddlers who were more excited by their sparkly tutus than learning how to plie. Tweens anxiously checking to see what everyone else was doing before joining in. Fans from out of state with two left feet more interested in taking photos of him than any choreography. They did, however, have several genuinely talented kids and young adults that set Blake’s imagination alight with possibilities. And then there were those who weren’t in any way gifted, but had tried so hard Blake could practically see their determination radiating off them.

The Plan – with a big P – was to shoot twelve episodes and release them via YouTube. The episode length would, apparently, depend on what storylines they came up with.

“Sorry,” said Blake. He shook his head in confusion. “Don’t you mean the storylines that develop?”

They were back around the marble island in the kitchen. Dozens and dozens of applications attached to headshots littered the surface in front of them.

Seth didn’t pause from shuffling the papers around. “No, we need to control the story from the get-go. Make sure the finale works. What about her?”

Blake’s mom wrinkled her nose. “How many Asians do we have already?”

“In total? Three.”

She plucked the application from his hand. “I don’t see her in the star pile, but she was good for background.”

Blake scowled at the both of them. “The only thing that should matter is their ability,” he said.

His mom laughed. Seth didn’t even acknowledge him. “Honey,” said his mom. She tapped his hand and indicated the messy pile they were dealing with. “Why don’t you fish out your ten absolute favorites? Then we’ll try and get a good mix of them between the classes.” 

“What about her?” Seth asked.

He happened to pick out one of the ones that Blake was trying to find. “Yes, Karyn!” he said, pleased something was finally going his way. “She’s incredible.”

“She’s a brat.”

He turned and regarded the fourth person sat around the table.

Nessa Prince was the other teacher his mom (and presumably the production team) had found to take some of the classes. They had a range from babies to high school age and Blake couldn’t teach them all, let alone choreograph every routine. But that was obviously not the only reason Nessa had been hired.

She was almost as tall as Blake with light brown skin that practically glowed with healthy nourishment. There was enough of it on display to make a fair assessment. Clad solely in bright, patterned leggings and a sports bra over her ample boobs, her long, lean stomach proved how much time she spent at the gym. From the mane of dark brown hair she’d casually thrown up in a half ponytail Blake would have bet money on there being extensions hidden away in there. Her teeth were perfectly straight and white, the kind of smile you saw on most people in L.A.

He’d seen her move too. Without a doubt she knew what she was doing. But her vitriol against the young Karyn surprised him.

“She was easily one of the best we saw today,” he countered carefully.

He almost didn’t notice when the camera operators repositioned themselves to angle at the two of them. Kala, the producer with the ear gauges, was watching him from behind the cameras. He refused to get into an argument, but he guessed that was what they probably wanted.

Nessa shook her head. “I didn’t say she wasn’t,” she agreed. “But she has an attitude problem. I don’t know if that’s what the school needs.”

Blake tried to recall what he’d seen of her away from the floor. All he could recall though were her perfect fouette turns and excellent posture. “I’m sure she was just nervous.”

Nessa arched her eyebrow. “She’s going to walk all over you with an attitude like that.”

Blake sat back on the stool. What the hell had gotten into her? “You know what?” he snapped, slapping Karyn’s application paper on the table. “This is my school. She’s the best, and I say she’s in.”

There was a beat. Then his mom and Nessa and relaxed, smiled, and his mom even gave him a quick clap. Seth flicked an eyebrow, but otherwise didn’t react.

“That was great, guys,” said Kala approvingly, nodding at the cameras.

Blake’s mom squeezed his knee. “You’re getting it, hon!”

He looked around at them, then fixed on Nessa. “You were messing with me?”

“I was bringing the drama.” She grinned and handed him back Karyn’s application. “Of course we should take her. But,” she arched an eyebrow at him, “I did mean it. She is going to be a handful.”

“That’s the point,” drawled Seth. His eyes flicked between two more resumes.

“Right,” said Blake slowly.

He really wasn’t getting the hang of this play-acting bullshit. This was obviously another reason Nessa had been hired. She seemed to have the hang of it right away.

His eyes flicked discreetly over to her again. She was obviously gorgeous; any idiot could see that. But for some reason Blake didn’t feel any flicker of attraction towards her. If the guys were here with him, he was sure that TJ would have been putting the moves on her by now. That boy used sex like a handshake.

But Blake remained unmoved. He was fussy though, he knew that. It took a special kind of girl to hold his interest outside the dance studio. Even then he took forever to put the moves on and get any. Not everyone was cut out to be a Casanova like TJ, he supposed.

He and Nessa were compatible on the dance floor, and that was all he cared about.

Seth looked up at the big guy on the crew, Marcus. He operated the boom, but that wasn’t always needed. In the auditions he’d used it to get all the kids chattering. But here, they were all mic’d up, so Marcus was now first camera man while Seth was casting.

“I’d say another ten minutes on the applications, then we set up for talking heads?”

Marcus nodded silently.

“Oh,” said Blake’s mom, waving another candidate’s profile around. A guy called Tyler. “How about you argue over this guy next? Nessa, you could point out how hot he is and Blake you could get offended and insecure!”

They had auditioned a few older dancers for an elite team of just half a dozen. Blake would be the center point, naturally. Then they would be the close of the big show they were steering the season climax towards.

Blake tried not to scowl as he took the guy’s application off her. “I’m not insecure, Mom. He’s good, but so am I.”

“Yes.” She glanced at the camera and gave him a thumbs up. “That’s it, honey, good.”

Blake rubbed his eyes. “I only want seven for the elite squad. He’s talented, and, seeing as it seems to matter so much to you, he’s also black.”

“And smoking hot,” said Nessa, taking his picture and fanning herself.

Blake’s mom raised her eyebrows at him, but he refused to be goaded. “Tyler is in.”

Tyler went on the Definitely pile.

They needed up to a dozen featured characters apparently, of all ages and abilities to create a varied cast. They had an adorable four-year-old with blonde ringlets and big, doe eyes named Madison. Also a stocky, ginger boy with startling potential named Brady in his freshman year at Perryville High. Then of course there was Karyn. Thirteen and gangly with, as Nessa said, a potential attitude problem. But when she started to move there was no taking your eyes off of her.

They had their black and South-East-Asian quota for the main cast already, which Blake still wasn’t comfortable with. But he didn’t care so much who they wanted to put in the credits of the show. He only cared about the caliber of the dancers. All the dancers.

Unfortunately, Seth and his mom didn’t necessarily see it that way.

“But she doesn’t know the difference between third and fourth position,” Blake argued. He was talking about Taffy, a girl with model good looks. However, she was an atrocious, awkward dancer who had been very slow to pick up choreo. “She cannot be in the senior class. That’s advanced; she’ll hold the other kids back.”

“She’s a childhood cancer survivor and her mom was Miss Ohio,” said Seth. Blake waited for a follow up, but there wasn’t one.

“So?”

“So, she’s in,” said his mom. “Moving on. We need a fatty.”

Blake choked on his own saliva and glared at her. “What did you just say?”

She shrugged. “We need a fat kid. Question is; one that can dance? Or one that can’t?”

“Can’t,” said Seth, fishing out another headshot. “People like someone to pity, poke fun at. He’ll be a meme within a week.”

That was so awful, but Blake’s mom was already nodding. He glanced at Nessa, who gave him a pained look, but only shrugged.

Rather than come out and disagree, Blake came at it from a different angle. It was a technique that had sometimes worked with his mom in the past. “Mercy is a big girl,” he said. He showed them her photo. “She’s not the best, but she’s a trier, and a really sweet kid.”

“We have enough minorities,” said Seth. “You don’t want viewers to mistake this for an inner-city ghetto.”

“But-” spluttered Blake.

Seth carried on like he hadn’t heard him. “She’s not fantastic, but she’s not terrible and she has no sob story. If you even have her in the background, she’ll attract the eye in a negative way. Hard no.”

Blake could feel his anger rising. “You’re not going to let her in at all? Not even one of the beginner’s classes?”

“Sweetie,” his mom said, reaching out to take his hand. Her tone was firm though. “Seth knows best, he’s done these shows before.”

Blake pulled his hand out of reach. This was supposed to be his school. He wanted a safe space where kids could come and express themselves creatively. To flourish. I never asked you to turn it into a circus, he thought savagely.

But he could already hear his dad’s voice: ‘After everything your mother and I have done for you?’

“I want her in the class,” he tried one last time.

He didn’t even get an answer. Seth ignored him entirely as he typed on his laptop. His mom just shrugged again and began talking to Nessa about branded school training wear. Kala was the only one who met his eye, but that was only to shrug apologetically.

This was such bullshit. He couldn’t take any more.

Without bothering to ask permission, he rose from the table and stormed out the kitchen. His mom called out after him, but he tuned her out. No doubt he’d get his ear chewed off for that later, but right then he didn’t care.

He thundered through the foyer and out into the street, slamming the door behind him. Fury propelled him onwards, until he realized he’d made it a few blocks over and had no idea of where he was heading.

He stopped at the end of one of the identical roads. He’d made it into one of the regular neighborhoods, not the million-dollar estates of his street. All the houses were one story with slanted roofs and simple, square front yards of closely trimmed grass. With no one else around that he could see, he dropped his head back and let out a frustrated roar.

Two weeks ago, he and Joey had been playing video games, having ditched some Hollywood party in favor of pizza and zombies. Now he was here, in the dreary, lonely town where even the smallest decisions had been taken away from him.

The only spark of life he’d seen so far had been from his dog Watson. That, and the bizarre encounter with his old classmate, Elion.

Blake took a deep breath, and began walking again, vaguely aware of heading towards the small strip of stores that the Cool Beans coffee house sat in. It was stupid, but thinking of Elion made him smile.

He had only dim memories of him from school, but they were there nonetheless. Normally, being recognized put Blake on edge. It was unnerving when a stranger knew so much about you and you knew absolutely nothing about them. But the way Elion’s face had lit up spoke of camaraderie, not fan worship.

Blake hadn’t kept in touch with anyone from his class, other than the usual ‘friendship’ on Facebook. But he wasn’t actually close with anyone there. It might be nice to get to know Elion and swap some stories of the old days, good or not.

Plus, he was the only guy he’d seen in town with any kind of style. Blake felt the need to reach out to someone else creative, even if that artistic flare only stretched to colorful hair.

Jodi had said Elion had promised him a free coffee too, after the minor scene that had happened on his last visit. The gesture was unnecessary, but that made it nicer. So, it would be rude not to take him up on it, surely?

By the time the half a dozen establishments came into view, he had several good reasons to head into the coffee shop. The least of which was they actually did really great cappuccinos. He wasn’t sure if he was looking to make a friend. It had been so long since he’d tried to connect with anyone new. Maybe he just wanted an excuse to get away from the casting and this was the most convenient.

Whatever his true motivation was, as he pushed the door into the coffee house, he hoped that Elion was working.

 

Elion

 

If he moaned louder, Elion thought maybe Devon might take pity on him. Instead, she threw a dishrag at his face.

“Dev-von,” he whimpered, slumping against the back wall. “Be nice.”

“It’s your own fault you’re hungover,” she said. She was making a caramel latte and the customer was regarding Elion’s display with somewhat wide eyes. He didn’t mind. It passed the time to put on a show every now and again. 

However, there were other people waiting, and Lily was lurking around somewhere. As much as Elion enjoyed playing the brat, he didn’t want to lose his job.

In his defense, last night had been special. Worth drinking a bit too much even though he had to be at work today. A couple of his school buddies had come home for the weekend and they’d stayed up most of the night catching up.

Back in the day, they’d had a pretty sweet group from the LGBT alliance that hung out twenty-four-seven. But of course, everyone else had gone to college, all over the country, leaving Elion in little old Perryville. As fun as last night had been, it had also reminded him what he’d missed out on. He’d probably had a shot or three of tequila that he shouldn’t have to chase the bitterness away.

So he could suffer the pain today as penance. He would never want to feel jealous or resentful of his friends and a big fat headache would remind him of that.

He made sure to chug down glasses of water and bounced from customer to customer. There were more important things in life than frat parties, after all. Also, the upside of not going to college was he wasn’t saddled with student debt for the next two decades of his life. So, things could be worse.

The hot topic of conversation had of course been the re-emergence of Blake Jackson last week. Elion had tried to hold his tongue, but after a couple of beers the story had eventually slipped out. He’d done his best not to sound like some lust-struck fan.

At least he could say he’d never really listened to Below Zero’s music. There might have been a little drool when he’d recounted how hot Blake had gotten since school, and damn, he’d been seriously fine back then as well.

But the truth was Elion was more intrigued by what had obviously been causing Blake so much grief. It was probably the band splitting up. That had to be tough. Elion couldn’t really imagine what it was like to tour the world and make records and have screaming fans only to come back…here.

As he emptied the dishwasher Elion scowled and told himself, yet again, that there were a thousand worse places to be. He was only jaded because he’d never experienced anything else. Seeing his old buddies was just making him go all ‘grass-is-greener.’ Once he’d had a good night’s sleep he’d grow up and remember all the things he had to be grateful for.

“Elion, are you free?”

“In mind,” he sighed. He stood and placed his hand on his heart. “In body, I am shackled.”

Devon stared at him through her eyelashes. “You are such a catch,” she said, deadpan. “It’s time for your break.”

He blinked and frowned at her. Sometimes, when he was this hungover, he honest-to-God could forget what month they were in. So time-of-the-day was utterly hopeless. But he was still almost certain that he’d had both his breaks for the day. He was due to go home in an hour.

“No, I don’t think so. But if you wanted to nip out for a quickie, all you had to do is ask.”

Devon rolled her eyes. “Ew. Take your damn break.” 

She spun on her heels and immediately began making a couple of drinks. Elion frowned and wondered what he’d done to piss her off so much that she’d banish him from the counter.

That was when he looked over at the guy hovering by the order pickup station.

“Blake?” he blurted.

It was a good job he’d not been holding anything, because he would have absolutely dropped it, and a lot of things around here were breakable. Blake looked at him with a sheepish grin.

“So, how about that free cappuccino?”

Elion would be lying if he said he hadn’t envisioned Blake Jackson sauntering back into the coffee house over the past few days. In his fantasies, Blake would be cool and commanding, and Elion would have been just telling his co-workers an absolutely hilarious story.

Instead, he was pretty sure he had cocoa powder smeared through his hair. And Blake had his hands shoved in his sweatshirt pockets and was looking at Elion with such trepidation he had to glance over his shoulder to double check there was nobody else he could possibly be talking to.

“Dude, hey!” he said. He rubbed his palms hastily on his apron and skipped over to the counter. “Of course, coming right up.”

He was mildly impressed he didn’t blurt out how awesome it was that Blake had come back at all. Not even a little. He just started frothing up milk with a silly grin on his face. No words seemed to be happening, but that was better than embarrassing words, so he’d go with it.

“Um,” Blake said. “Did…do you have a break?”

Damn Devon.

Except, hang on. Was this all-American-old-high-school-crush-legit-popstar asking if he wanted to hang out?

“Yes,” Elion blurted. “Yes, yep, literally just going on a break now, isn’t that weird? I mean-” he panicked. “Not that you were asking me to join you…were you?”

Blake cast his gaze downwards and bit his lip. “Only if you’re free. I thought it might be nice to, you know, catch up. Or something.”

Elion already had his apron untied. “That would be so nice, I mean great, I mean-”

He forced himself to breathe, then looked pointedly over at Devon.

She was already holding Blake’s finished cappuccino and Elion’s personal favorite, Jamaica iced tea.

“Have fun,” she said forcefully.

If he questioned it, he might talk himself out of it. So Elion took the drinks and used his hip to bash his way through the swinging door and out into the coffee house floor. He smiled at Blake, then looked away and blinked rapidly, his heart pounding.

“So, um, I think there’s a free table this way.”

Elion led Blake towards the back. It was likely that people turned their heads to watch them passing. Everybody and their dog seemed to have heard about the local heartthrob’s untimely return. But Elion didn’t care about that. He cared, deeply, that as he dropped into the squidgy armchair by the jukebox, he and Blake were the only ones at their little, round table.

“I didn’t think you’d come back.” Yeah. Because that didn’t sound needy at all.

Blake smiled though as he pulled his coffee cup towards him. “I’m not sure how being back in Perryville is crazier than L.A.,” he said with a laugh. “But it is.”

As he stirred sugar into his drink, Elion noticed a dimple in Blake’s left cheek. He liked it.

Clearing his throat, he dragged his pathetic thoughts away from an idea where he made that dimple pop out as often as he could. “Really?” he managed.

Blake nodded. “There’s…just all this shit flying around. Anyway.” He took a sip of his coffee and leaned back. “I felt rude running out the other day and this place is cool, so…here I am.”

Here you are. Elion gave himself a mental snap and grabbed his tea. It was sweetened just how he liked it, bless Devon. “It must be so surreal,” he said.

Blake nodded. “It’s been…fast,” he said.

Elion stirred the ice cubes in his glass. He tried to think about something they had in common, something they could reminisce over from school. But there was nothing. Elion had never traveled, he knew almost nothing about music, and they didn’t have any mutual friends. All he knew was how amazing it used to be to watch Blake dance.

“So, you’re teaching now,” he said, latching onto the thought. “Not singing.”

Blake chuckled. He glanced around, then when he seemed confident no one was eavesdropping, he leant over. “I never really could sing,” he said.

“You can’t have been terrible,” Elion said.

He licked a drop of dark pink tea that was running down the glass. When he looked back up, he realized Blake was staring. Shit, he should probably tone down the flirty stuff around the straight guy.

“I mean,” he said, clearing his throat. “You had to sing live and stuff?”

Blake’s shoulders looked like they relaxed, just a fraction. He smiled, pulling his lower lip between his teeth. That did all sorts of things to Elion’s body. He shifted, trying to ignore them.

“They’d turn my mic down,” Blake said in a conspiratorial tone. “Or auto-tune on the fly. I could carry the melody, yeah, and they’d let me sign a verse here and there. But mostly I was there for the dance breaks.”

Elion couldn’t help but laugh. “Wow. So, I get to call you Milli Vanilli from now on, yeah?”

“Shut up!” Blake laughed properly, and smacked Elion’s knee. Even through his jeans, the touch sent electricity across Elion’s skin. “I wasn’t lip syncing, I was actually singing. Just…a little flatly. The other guys really could sing!”

They were both grinning at each other. It felt good, natural. “You must miss them,” said Elion. “Unless there’s some juicy gossip about their hideous diva tantrums you’d like to share?” He leaned over and crossed his heart. “I promise me and my ninety-three Twitter followers won’t tell a soul.”

Blake smiled so much the dimple returned. Elion was definitely vulnerable to the giddy feelings that brought out in him.

If he wasn’t careful, this could get dangerous. Fast.

 

Elion

 

“I do really miss the other guys,” said Blake after a while.

He sighed and leant back in his chair. The coffee house was busy around them, however Elion was pleased that most people were keeping to themselves and not paying them much attention.

“Especially Joey,” Blake carried on. “He’s the youngest in the band, the one with the curly hair?”

Elion scoffed. “I know who Joey Sullivan is,” he said, like he hadn’t obsessively been Googling the band since he’d bumped into Blake last week.

That brought back a small smile. Blake nodded, sipping his coffee. “We were buddies. I bet you two would get on, actually.”

He said it with a hint of wistfulness. But of course Elion had to spoil the moment. “Yeah,” he said, unable to help the irony that slipped out. “Because we’re both gay, right?”

Blake arched an eyebrow at him. “No,” he said firmly. “Just because he’s gay doesn’t mean you’re his type.”

Elion pretended to prickle, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder. “How do you know I’m not his type?”

Blake leaned in closer. There was a sparkle in his eye Elion hadn’t seen before. “Because he likes adults. Grown men.”

“Hey!” said Elion. “I’m an adult. I have a job, and a car. Sometimes there’s even gas in it!”

Blake continued to laugh. It was a quiet rumble, but the more he did it, the more his body loosened up. It was addictive to watch.

“Okay, alright,” he said. “Seriously though. He’s really passionate, never does things by halves. Full of life.”

He held Elion’s gaze for a second, then looked down with a frown as he swirled what was left of his coffee.

In an attempt to gloss over the strange moment, Elion held his wrist out, showing Blake his tattoo. “Carpe Diem,” he said. “Seize the day. I know it’s cheesy, but, yeah. Life is for living. I think Joey and I can agree on that.”

Blake put his coffee cup down and lightly touched Elion’s wrist, turning it over to get a better look at the tattoo. His fingertips were warm from where he’d been holding the cup. Elion did his best not to shiver.

“Good philosophy,” Blake murmured.

He let go of Elion, returning his hand to him, and Elion immediately felt the loss.

“I think I could learn to embrace the day a bit more.” Blake scrubbed his face. “Be more grateful for the opportunities I’ve been given.”

Elion wasn’t sure what to say to that. The worry lines were back on Blake’s forehead. “Yeah, but you’ve got to look after you too, right?”

Blake smiled. There was no dimple. “Thanks so much for the coffee. It was really nice to see you again.”

That sounded an awful lot like he was leaving. Elion panicked. “Oh, hey, any time. Seriously, if there’s anyone who knows how it is to feel out of place around here, it’s me. We should, you know, do it again sometime?”

Like that would actually happen. But Blake’s face lit up. “Um, sure. If you’re sure?”

Elion waved his hand around at the shop. “I think I can fit you in to my hectic schedule,” he said dryly. “Here, let you give you my number.”

Relieved, Blake went to reach for his phone. But before he could, Elion mirrored his action from earlier and grabbed his wrist. He pushed the sweatshirt sleeve up, then nabbed a pen from his pocket.

“Um, what are you doing?” Blake asked. At least he sounded amused.

Elion waggled his eyebrows at him as he started scrawling the cell number up his arm in black marker. “This way you won’t forget,” he said with a wink. “When you’re cursing my name later, scrubbing this off, you’ll remember to send me a selfie.”

So much for not flirting. But for real, how many opportunities was he ever going to get to make friends with a popstar? And Blake didn’t seem to mind. He was grinning and shaking his head as Elion finished up the last digit.

“Fine. But I’m getting you back for this.” He held up his graffitied arm, then rolled the sleeve back down. “People are going to think I got attacked by a rabid fan.”

Elion patted him on the knee. “You can assure them that I have much better taste in music than that.”

Blake smacked him off with a laugh then rose to his feet. “Catch you later, man.”

Elion tried not to stare after him as he walked out. The way his jeans clung to his toned thighs and ass, though, made it difficult. Especially when he stopped for a little girl who ran up to him to ask for an autograph. The way he smiled down at her and then crouched so she could clumsily take a selfie with him was downright adorable.

Once Blake was finally out the door and had vanished from sight, Elion lingered a moment and finished his tea. He wanted to tell himself that Blake wouldn’t text. He was a boy, after all. But the way he’d lit up at the suggestion of taking Elion’s number gave him a bit of hope.

Maybe he really did want to be friends with a small town nobody like him? Stranger things had happened. He’d come back for that coffee, after all.

“You owe me eleven bucks,” said Devon as he returned to behind the counter.

“Jesus, this place is such a rip-off,” Elion grumbled. He added it to Devon’s running tally she kept on a notepad by the sugar, then looked up to find the owner Lily glaring at him. Some of her greying hair had escaped its bun and was hovering around her head like a static cloud. “I mean, check out all the quality, organic produce!” Elion tried to cover.

She narrowed her eyes at him, then shuffled away to rearrange the sandwich display counter.

“Hey there,” said the next customer in line cheerfully.

He was a small guy in his early thirties with dark hair. He looked to be with the big black guy next to him. The taller dude was staring intently at the phone in front of his face as his thumbs twitched over the screen. The smaller guy’s eyebrows were raised and he looked excited.

“Was that Blake from Below Zero?”

Elion shrugged. “Yeah, it was.” He didn’t particularly want to talk about Blake with a stranger. That felt like going behind his back, gossiping. But he couldn’t really lie when the guy had obviously seen for himself.

“Wow, that’s awesome,” he said, rubbing his chin. “Oh, we’ll take a couple of flat whites to go.” Elion nodded and grabbed the cups. “So, do you guys like, know each other?”

Elion flicked his eyes over the small guy. It seemed a bit unusual that he’d be a Below Zero fan, but then, some people were just celebrity obsessed. Elion was one to talk though. He was only interested because he thought Blake was sweet and hotter than hell. Maybe this dude had his own crush?

That made Elion more sympathetic. “Yeah, kind of,” he admitted. He didn’t know anything incriminating enough to let anything slip anyway. “We went to high school together.”

“Perryville High?” the guy asked. “That enormous place that looks like a prison?”

Elion chuckled. He must not be local. “Most schools in Ohio look like prisons. But, yeah. We were just catching up.”

The guy leaned in. His friend was still totally wrapped up with his phone. Elion guessed he must have been playing Candy Crush or something. The level of concentration and the fact it was right in front of his face suggested he was defending a high score.

The smaller guy looked around, but there weren’t any other patrons hovering at just that moment. “So, are you two, like, together?”

Elion couldn’t help but laugh. At least the guy didn’t sound totally disgusted at suggesting such a thing. It added to Elion’s crush theory.

“Uh, no, he’s not my boyfriend,” he said quickly. He knew he was probably smiling a bit too much, still dizzy from his and Blake’s chat before. He tried to tone it down. “”

The guy looked thoughtfully towards the door. “Is he cool in real life? Or is he one of those guys who turns into a jerk when the cameras are off?”

“Oh no,” said Elion hastily. “Nothing like that.”

He slammed the coffees down with a bit too much force. After causing Blake grief the last time he came in with fans, Elion would hate to let this guy leave with a bad impression. Just in case he said unflattering things to other people.

“Yeah, really great guy, totally genuine.” He carefully mopped up the coffee he’d spilled. “”

The smaller guy nodded. “Good to hear. It sucks when people turn out to be douchebags, you know?”

“Oh, completely,” Elion agreed. He pressed lids onto the coffee cups and eased them over to the other side of the counter. “There you go, sir. That’ll be nine-fifty.” 

“Thank you,” said the guy with a smile. He paid with his card and dropped some change in the tip jar. “You have a great day now.”

“You too,” Elion responded automatically.

The guy took the drinks off the counter and headed towards the door, the bigger guy following, still glued to his phone.

Elion shook his head. “It must be nuts being famous. Having people talk about you like that. Don’t know how Blake copes with it.” Devon smirked at him. “What?” he asked with a scowl.

“Nothing,” she said. “I’m just sure you’ll find out soon enough.”

Elion huffed and went to go bus tables. That was nonsense. He’d be lucky if he ever spoke to Blake again. Sure, he was here for now. But he was made for bigger things in this world than Perryville. That was partly why Elion had felt confident enough to give him his number. It wasn’t like it was going to lead to anything. But the thrill of being so bold still had his whole body tingling.

Exciting things very rarely happened to him. So he wasn’t going to overthink it. He was just going to enjoy it while it lasted.

 

Blake

 

The first hint Blake knew something was wrong – really wrong – was the shriek that resounded through the house on Thursday evening.

His mom was having a screening party as the first episode of Feet of Flames went live. Several women in their forties had invaded the house a couple of hours ago and had been getting progressively tipsy since. Blake had had neither the desire to watch the car crash of a show, nor to be groped by unhappily married middle aged women. So he had kept, far, far away.

He honestly had no idea what the actual quality of the show would be. He knew it would be a disaster for him personally, because he’d never wanted it to be made in the first place. Also, he hated reality TV with a passion. Nothing about it was real.

Given that he knew that, he probably should have been more prepared.

“BLAKE!” his mom’s hysterical cry resonated against the walls.

He knew better than to keep her waiting. “Coming!” he bellowed back. He rolled off his bed and jogged down the stairs towards the den with an increasing sense of dread.

A rapid re-evaluation of everything they’d filmed that week gave him no clue as to what he should have be worried about. Episode one had been all about the auditions and who had made it through. He’d dutifully done his talking heads and basically said what Kala had told him to about each of the kids.

The only time he knew he’d messed up was storming off during the casting session. But even then, when he’d sheepishly returned after seeing Elion, he found out his tantrum had apparently given them a nice storyline.

Kala had met him on his return. She had calmly informed him that walking off set still wearing his microphone was technically invalidating the insurance. However, the footage of his mom’s hissy fit about it afterwards had apparently been gold. So she didn’t seem to really mind.

For a second Blake had panicked about being accidentally wired for sound while going to see Elion. That was definitely nobody’s business except his. But there had to be a receiver in range for them to pick anything up, so he figured it was fine.

It had to be the hissy fit his mom was pissed at. She was most likely furious that he’d made her look ugly, or something. This was ridiculous though. He wasn’t going to slink into his own living room like a scolded child. He was an adult. Resolutely, he gritted his teeth and straightened his spine.

“Mom, is everything okay?”

He walked into the spacious den. The room was dominated by the enormous custom-made couch that lined three sides of the square well in the center of the room. On the fourth side hung a TV on the wall so large it essentially turned the space into a movie theater. His face was paused awkwardly on the screen.

He cringed and turned his gaze away from it to focus on his mom. She was dressed in three-hundred-dollar skinny jeans and a bedazzled tank that read ‘Princess’ across her pushed-up boobs. In one hand, she sloshed a crystal goblet of rosé wine. In the other, she wielded the TV remote like a weapon.

The pink spots on her cheeks told him how much trouble he was in. If any blemishes could make it through the layers of foundation she wore, things were biblically bad.

Of course the film crew was there, led by Kala and the big guy Marcus. All of Blake’s mom’s friends were ridiculously attired for sitting around watching TV. Some of them were even in cocktails dresses. They were obviously all hoping to appear on next week’s episode.

For some reason Seth was standing in front of the camera. For a guy with such small stature, he still managed to radiate an air of authority. It was something about the way he positioned himself with his arms folded and head high in the face of Blake’s mom’s undeniable wrath.

“Somebody,” she seethed, flinging her hand with the remote towards the TV. “Needs to explain this. Now!”

She pressed play.

Unfortunately, Blake had to stand and watch the tail end of his part around the casting table. There was a small bit of him that was proud of the way he’d stood up to his mom and Seth. But they cut it to make it look like he’d stormed out over Tyler, the other dancer they’d accepted on the elite team. Not Mercy the average, overweight dancer. Sure enough, the show then cut to Nessa talking about how Blake needed to get over his insecurities. 

He ground his teeth together. It was obvious by his mom’s expression they hadn’t got to what had upset her yet. Even when they showed her shrieking about him up and leaving when he had a job to do.

The next shot threw Blake completely. Someone had evidently captured his exit from the house and even storming down the road. How had he not noticed that? How far could these camera lenses zoom?

But then it just kept getting worse.

“So, I was out in town with my girlfriends,” a new talking head chirped.

That was Karyn. The protégé dancer who Nessa had marked out as trouble. The tween had come across as shy and reserved when Blake had watched her audition. Like she wouldn’t say boo to a goose. But now she was doing her segment like a pro.

They interviewed everyone in different places for their talking heads. He recognized where she sat as one of the corners of the dance studio, although they’d moved a houseplant around. She was looking at whichever producer was to the right of the shot like they’d all been told to do. Her makeup was heaped on way more than any thirteen-year-old should have, and a smirk was on her lips that Blake found alarming.

Then the shot cut to the exterior of the Cool Beans Coffee House.

Icy coldness washed over Blake’s entire body and he swore his heart stuttered its next beat. It wasn’t like he had anything to hide, he quickly assured himself. But still, what the fuck were they doing there? He’d gone there specifically to see Elion and escape this shit!

“I wasn’t that surprised to see Blake show up,” Karyn carried on. The picture showed her and a couple of other Barbie-like tweens all perched on a squishy armchair together. They were slurping smoothies in a picture of teenage innocence. “He comes here all the time.”

“That was the second time I’d been there,” he couldn’t help but protest out loud.

Several scandalized voices shushed him.

Then Elion’s face appeared. Blake wanted to cry out ‘What the fuck?’ but his throat clamped up.

There was a shot of Elion smiling from behind the counter, a reaction from Karyn and her pals, some cut-aways of coffee being made, then…

Then someone had filmed Blake and Elion sat together around the small table. Except the very first shot was of Elion’s hand on Blake’s knee. “I didn’t think you’d come back,” he said while the image lingered on their touching. Blake shook his head in horror, that wasn’t how it had happened, was it?

Elion hadn’t been wearing a mic, obviously, but the sound had been captured via Blake’s and they had subtitled his murmured words for the show. The picture cut back to Karyn and the girls craning their necks to ‘look’ at them, but they hadn’t been there! Blake was absolutely certain. The crew must have gone back and filmed the girls another day.

But the way it was edited made it looked seamless. “It’s so great to see them together again,” said Karyn’s talking head dreamily. She clutched her hands to her chest, then the shot went back to her ‘watching’ Blake and Elion.

There was a second of them smiling, then it cut to a wide shot of the coffee shop. It was just long enough to make it appear like they were gazing longingly at each other. Another shot of Karyn, then Blake and Elion laughing as Blake batted Elion’s hand away from his knee.

They unmistakably looked like a couple.

Blake was stunned speechless. This was a total fabrication.

“Did you miss me?” Elion asked.

The words didn’t sound natural, but maybe because that was because Blake knew Elion hadn’t said that. They were barely friends, for fuck’s sake! The camera was focused on Blake smiling though, and the subtitles made it come across more like a real sentence. What had they done? Picked out words from the rest of the conversation and strung them together?

The Blake on screen nodded, Karyn and her buddies swooned, then the shot cut back to Elion writing his number up Blake’s arm in the marker.

It had taken him twenty minutes to scrub that thing off. He’d sort of loved it in a strange way, laughing as he’d texted with Elion throughout the ordeal. That was the only time they had spoken since the coffee house, but it had been fun.

The actual number had been blurred out during editing, but Karyn’s talking head was there to explain everything to the audience. “Elion wanted to make sure Blake didn’t lose his number this time,” she said with a big wink.

Just when Blake thought the nightmare might be over, the shot changed from the far away one that had captured him and Elion at their table. Now it showed Elion back behind the counter, making a couple of coffees.

“We went to high school together,” said Elion, looking to the left of the camera.

This looked like it was shot in portrait mode on a phone. Again, Elion’s sound was being caught by another mic. Presumably whoever was on the left of the shot.

“Yeah, he’s my boyfriend. He’s just getting settled back in town, you know? He’s a really great guy, totally genuine. I’m so glad we had a chance to reconnect.”

Between each sentence, the camera cut away to wide shots of the coffee house, or back to Karyn and her girlfriends still ‘watching.’ Maybe they weren’t being shown in the right order. But all those words were unmistakably coming out of Elion’s mouth.

Anger rose up inside Blake. Had Elion been in on this too? Why would he set him up like this? Fuck. He was probably just looking for his own fifteen minutes of fame like every other asshole out there.

Karyn’s talking head in the studio popped back up again. “I just think it’s incredible, you know?” She sighed and swept back her shoulder length, dark blonde hair. “They may not be together anymore, but Below Zero are such inspiration for the LGBT community. First Joey came out as gay, now Blake is being open about his bisexuality. Is it cheesy to say I’m proud of them?” She laughed. “I’m going to say it anyway.”

The image froze on her beaming face.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Blake’s mom rasped.

For once, Blake wasn’t unsure of what to say. He was more than incensed himself. “That is completely and totally fake!” He turned to Seth. “I don’t know how you stitched that together, but Elion and I are just friends. That’s all!” A thought occurred to him. “Did you get permission from him to air this?”

Seth shrugged. “The laws are different for online content. None of you are getting paid, all the money comes from advertising. He could sue us, but,” he smirked, “is a poor kid like that going to hire a lawyer?”

Blake was utterly appalled. “So you admit that you made that all up?”

“Of course,” Seth replied. Like it was no big deal. The women sat around the sofa were flicking their wide eyes between them, sipping on their pink wine.

Blake’s mom made a high-pitched noise. Watson, who had been napping on the fluffy rug on the floor, whined as well then scampered out of the room. Blake wished he could follow her.

“This wasn’t in the version you showed me!” Blake’s mom yelled at Seth.

Kala and Marcus had moved about the room, still filming. Blake wasn’t sure if it was too meta to show them arguing about the contents of the previous episode. Maybe they were just stockpiling reaction shots. They obviously liked to film things then edit them where they didn’t belong.

“You wouldn’t have approved,” Seth replied smoothly.

“Because it’s a lie,” Blake stuttered.

“Because Blake isn’t bisexual,” his mom screeched. “How dare you slander him in that way?”

Was that really what she was so mad about? Not the entirely fictional story, or that they hadn’t asked Elion’s permission. She was losing her mind at the suggestion that Blake could be in any way queer?

He wanted to say something, but there probably wasn’t much point. Blake wasn’t bi. Still, the idea that he could be really wasn’t as horrific as she was making it out to be.

“The Elion kid is gay though,” said Seth, cocking an eyebrow. “The tension there was delicious. I saw an opportunity and I took it.” He shrugged. “Elion was more than happy to play along.”

Was he now.

Blake ignored as Seth as his mom continued to have at it. The sickening realization that he’d been betrayed washed through him like acid. The only thing he felt had been truly real since he’d come back home, and that turned out to be all fake too.

He didn’t pause as he fired off a simple message.

‘I thought I could trust you.’

Blake hit send.

 

Elion

 

Elion stared at his phone screen as if hoping the message would start making sense. Or that the growing sense of dread would dissipate. Neither happened.

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ he wrote back.

He bit his thumb and paced around his small bedroom. He made the bed as something to distract him. Then he stacked up some dirty dishes and took them down the hall to the kitchen where his mom was making something spicy with chicken.

“Dinner’s in ten,” she said. She stirred the pan with one hand and typed rapidly on her phone with the other.

Elion was normally always hungry. Now he just felt sick. The phone pinged with a message and he practically threw the dishes into the sink. Ignoring his mom’s protests, he scurried back towards his room, opening the text.

‘I saw your interview. I hope you enjoy your flicker of fame. Trust me, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.’

“Well, that makes absolutely no sense,” said Elion aloud to himself.

He sat heavily on the bed and tapped out a hasty reply. He had been elated to see Blake’s name on the text I.D. Now he was panicking that he’d done something to piss him off. He couldn’t see how that was possible.

The only people he had talked to about him were his friends and co-workers, who he trusted, and that guy in the coffee house after Blake had left. He’d made sure not to say too much to any of them though. And anything he had mentioned had definitely been positive.

‘I didn’t do any interview. I honestly have no idea why you’re mad at me.’

The response came in the form of a YouTube link.

He clicked on it, and after the ads played a TV show started. Blake’s face was the first to come up on the opening credits. Oh, that was right, he wasn’t just teaching dance. Someone said they were making a reality show out of it too. This must be it.

He was still none the wiser. He couldn’t bring himself to sit and watch kids trying to dance or the pushy parents encouraging them. So he skipped ahead through the episode, moving his finger a fraction at a time, trying to see what Blake was talking about.

It became pretty obvious once Elion’s face popped up on the small phone screen.