Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 104498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Instead, I couldn’t get Soren out of my head and that he’s here. In Fiji. Eight thousand miles away from where we first met. What does that say about my relationship with Harley if the minute I’m away from him, I’m thinking about another guy? A guy from my past, sure, but I don’t know if that makes a difference.
Lennon’s arm wraps around me. “Aww, Jet. I didn’t know.”
It’s funny to me when the guys call Lennon small because he’s not. He’s tall and lean. It’s that he hangs around guys who do weight training for a living and are all over six foot. He looks small compared to them.
I fit against him, and it feels nice to be held by a friend—someone who doesn’t want anything from me.
“I figured you need a hug. I can let go if you want me to.”
“Not yet,” I mumble. “You’re right. I needed this.”
“You should’ve told me.”
“It’s not like you could have done anything about it if you knew.”
“I could’ve come to see you or you could’ve called. We may have only lived together for a few months, but I consider you one of my closest friends. I’d do anything for you.”
I lay my head on his shoulder. “I know. I … I dunno. I don’t want to burden you. Or Matt and Noah.”
“You’re never a burden. Especially for your brothers.”
“Knowing that doesn’t take the crappy feeling away though.”
“No, I guess not. What are you and Soren going to do now?”
“Have fun? It’s not like we can do much else. If I didn’t piss the label off too much by pulling a disappearing act, I’ll be back on tour soon. He’ll be playing hockey. It’s not like there’s a future here.”
“Do you want a future?” Lennon asks.
“I barely know the guy.”
But something Soren said last night has me thinking about it—what our lives would’ve looked like had we aimed for something more. He said he shouldn’t have picked Bryce, and I can’t help wondering what would’ve happened had he pursued me instead.
I have no doubt he made the right decision and didn’t waste the last three years. Logically, I probably would’ve cheated on him or something during that first year I was on tour. I was so lonely. Lonely enough to sleep with my forty-five-year-old dick of a manager and countless groupies.
Being surrounded by people who want you is intoxicating. And for a while, it was a thrill.
The only other person I’ve had an actual connection with is Harley. He understood me because he’s been through it all. We started out as friends—him teaching me how to deal with rising fame and how to stay levelheaded. Well, relatively levelheaded. It is me I’m talking about.
I thought Harley was straight for about four months. Tabloids always had him with the latest actress or pop star. It wasn’t until our hundredth time hanging out I realized he spent all his spare time with me.
I asked if he was trying to hit on me, and he laughed and said, “Fucking finally.”
Insert a whirlwind, forbidden romance that didn’t fool any of the crew, a forcible separation by his management team, enforced by my own, and then the nail that finally sealed the coffin—his engagement to a beard.
I don’t care if the marriage is fake, they’re still going to be fucking married. And from what I understand, she’s not in on the whole fake part. Worse yet? It’s a fan his management team picked out for him. It’ll give all the other girls out there even more reason to believe they could bag one of the Eleven boys.
That’s not cool.
And I refuse to be involved.
But maybe … just maybe … if Soren had picked me all those years ago, maybe I wouldn’t be in pieces now.
“Oh, Jethro!” Noah’s singing voice comes from near the trees.
“Ah, fuck. Time’s up.” I pull away from Lennon, but he grabs hold of my hand.
“Be careful with Soren.”
Ha, right. Be careful with Soren. Because he’s the one who’s risking heartache here.
Sure.
Chapter Eleven
Soren
I’m still dancing with Ollie when Jet and Lennon are dragged back into the bar by Noah. The tray of shots the guys ordered still sits untouched at our table. They’re waiting for Jet so he can drown his sorrows.
I had a better way for him to do that, but no. Apparently drinking is the key.
Jet takes a shot reluctantly and swallows it down and then slams the glass on the table as if to say, “There. I drank your stupid drink.”
But then they put another in front of him. He rolls his eyes but takes it.
They all join him on this one.
Ollie’s body presses in closer to me. “You want to go over there, don’t you?”
Yes. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“For what it’s worth, I think you should go for it with the kid.”