Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Christian
This fucking blows. And I never thought I’d say that about getting to be in a music video for my favorite band.
Sitting astride my bike with my helmet balanced on one knee, I stare toward the barricades that block off the film site.
We're tucked down by the docks, steel shipping containers and metal scaffolding giving the place an industrial vibe that the band's producer apparently liked.
A layer of fog rolled in from the San Francisco Bay moments ago, making visibility difficult, so they called a break until it clears.
“Cheer up, man,” Taylor says, scarfing down another free bagel. All I can do is exhale slowly through my nose and try to breathe.
You'd think I'd be more stoked to be here but in all honesty, it's just been a fucking shitshow.
Not only did we roll into Huck’s grandparents' house late as hell last night after driving for thirteen hours, we were also late getting here this morning because his grandma cooked an entire feast for breakfast. Taylor was so excited to visit with them again that I couldn't stomach the thought of pulling him away, even if I do regret eating all those pancakes now.
On top of all that, the band isn't even here. Symbiotic is off with Salem filming their set somewhere else while Tay and I pretend to be the bassist and singer for the video. From what we've been told, the concept is us speeding away from metaphorical “ghosts.”
They already took a few stills of us racing down the road they'd blocked off this morning. All the cars we weaved through were stationary, but movie magic'll make them look like they're moving, I'm sure. All in all, it's gone okay, I guess.
So why the fuck ain't I happy?
This should be enough. This used to be enough.
A bike vibrating between my legs, adrenaline coursing through my veins at full throttle as I hit maximum speed.
Motocross and Taylor were all I ever needed in life.
Yet, I feel like I'm riding like shit. I haven't earned the right to be here yet, and Taylor isn't mine anymore. Not really.
I know the guy will always be my best friend, but it's taking longer than necessary to process the fact that he doesn't need me the way I thought I needed him. And maybe the shit Dev said to me the other night is still messing with my head.
No wonder Arya left.
Is the reason she left the same one that made Taylor leave, too? Is something wrong with me? Fuck. I've never been the one left behind before—I’m always the one to leave first.
I hate it.
“Earth to Christian.” Fingers snap in front of my face, jerking me out of my thoughts.
I scowl at my best friend. “What do you want, carino? Can't you see I'm busy moping?”
“Seriously, what is your deal? You know Salem never said we'd get to meet the band, right? I know it sucks, but look where we are, fucker.”
I sigh and try to scrub the haziness from my eyes. “I know, I know. I’m not mad about that. I mean… I am, but that’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
“Are we, like, good?” I ask, staring out into the bay. Fog looks like it's beginning to clear a little.
Taylor tilts his head. “Good? What are you talking about?”
“You and I. Our friendship. We're solid, right?”
“The fuck? Dude, we used to share a bed in high school. I'd literally crawl through your window to hide from my dad. We've ridden together, fought together, and fucked together since forever. What the hell do you think?”
Yeah, well, we don’t do any of that anymore.
There's a long moment of silence as I try to formulate words for how I'm feeling, but ultimately come up short. It all sounds pathetic, anyway, because he's right. It doesn’t matter if he moved out and started a new life without me, our bond is for fucking ever.
But why am I feeling like such shit lately? Maybe I need another perspective. Like, an outsider's point of view.
“Be right back,” I say, dismounting my bike. “Gonna make a phone call.”
Taylor holds my two-stroke steady and nods, though a wrinkle of worry still creases his forehead. “Alright, hurry. Fog should be gone soon.”
Crew members are milling about everywhere, so I walk a short distance away and tuck myself between two shipping containers for some privacy. Digging my phone out of my pocket, I pull up my contacts list and gaze down at Arya's name in dread before hitting the call button.
I haven't talked to her in over a year. Not since she left.
The phone rings long enough that I think she won’t answer—until she does.
“Christian?”
“Arya, hey,” I say, swallowing hard. “Uh… sorry. I know this is probably weird.”
“Yeah,” she admits over a gust of wind. “It kind of is. Are you okay?”
“I don’t know. That’s kinda why I’m calling.”
There's a long pause on her end that has me bracing for the line to go dead. But then she finally speaks again. “What’s up?”
Leaning my shoulder against the container, I close my eyes and let the cool metal ground me. “I just… I need to ask you something. And you can tell me to fuck off if you want.”
“I won’t. Ask away.”
“Were we good?”
She doesn’t respond at first, and words burst out of my throat in a panic. “I mean, was I good to you? Did I treat you right?”
“Christian,” she sighs. “What prompted this after so long?”
“Just something Devon said,” I answer vaguely, chewing on my cheek. Haven't heard from that asshole since I left for California. Logan mentioned that Owen had hung out with him yesterday, and it made me extremely jealous.
“Devon?” Arya says his name flatly and huffs a dry laugh. “You two speaking again, then?”
“Kind of. He moved in, so I don't really have a choice.”
Licking his dick was certainly a choice, though.
“What did he say?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose tightly. “Something about my attitude being the reason you cheated and left me.”
“Wow,” she giggles, and the sound makes my chest tighten. “Getting right to it, huh? Look, Christian, you weren't… cruel. You weren't mean. It's not like you were physically abusive or anything, but you were maybe a little controlling sometimes.”
“Wait, for real?”
“For real. Plus… I think you have some serious feelings to sort out about your sexuality.”
My spine snaps straight at that. “Yo, what the hell—”
“Don't get me wrong, the threesomes were great, but it got to the point where that's all we were doing. And if we weren't with someone else, your foreplay was talking about it. About other guys. About dicks, Christian. You see what I'm saying?”
“Yeah, I see,” I grunt, heat crawling up my neck. “So that's why you did it, then? Because I'm confused?”
Am I confused? I think for the most part, I've been pretty damn forward about embracing the fact that I find Devon hot.
Arya scoffs. “Of course not, you jerk. I don't give a shit if you like guys. I just… I don't know. I didn't feel like your partner anymore. I felt like something you could use and manipulate into exploring your fantasies, and when things went south with Dev, it wasn't fun anymore.”
“That doesn't mean—”
“I know,” she interrupts. “I'm not excusing what I did. That's on me, and I own that. But you asked why I did it, so I'm answering honestly.”
“Hm.” My head thumps against the container as I gaze at the graying sky. “So it was me, all along.”
“It wasn't anyone. We just weren't compatible anymore, Christian. It happens.”
“What does that even mean?”
Arya’s quiet for a moment, and I swear I hear another voice murmur in the background before she continues.
“We just wanted different things. You don't like staying still; everything always needs to be exciting and new.
Otherwise, you'd get bored. I think you were bored with me, and that's where the threesomes came in. Where Devon came in.”
Ouch. “Wow, that makes me sound like a piece of fucking shit.”
“You're not. You're human. And probably have some undiagnosed brain stuff going on.”
“Brain stuff,” I snort. “Okay.”
But she’s probably right. Two of my siblings have ADHD, there’s nothing to say I don’t too.
“Anyway,” she continues after whispering to someone, “I have to go, but I'm glad you called. Really. It was great to get this closure.”
“Riders!” Someone on the film crew calls over a megaphone. “Fog is lifting! Five minutes!”
“Yeah, same. You're doing okay, though? Seattle is good?”
I can hear the smile in her voice when she answers. “It's been amazing. I've gotten to know some really awesome people and I… I met someone.”
My throat tightens at the contentment in her voice. “I'm happy for you. He treats you right?”
“She treats me like a goddess,” Arya corrects with a giggle, and I can't help the grin that spreads on my face.
“Damn. Good for you, mi reina. Keep in touch, okay? I want to hear about your adventures.”
“I will. And you take care of yourself.”
“I'll try.”
“Oh, and Christian?” she says just before I hang up. “Don't fuck things up with Dev. He's got a lot more depth than people give him credit for. So did I.”
And with that, the line goes dead before I can even ask her to expand on that comment.
I stare down at the blank screen for a long moment, trying to process the conversation, when Taylor's voice reaches my ears.
“Christian! Come on, fucker! They're waiting on us!”
Pocketing my phone, I walk back to where he's still holding my bike in somewhat of a daze. When I take it from him and swing a leg over the seat, he taps his knuckles against my knee.
“You good, man? You look a little winded.”
I nod, looking at him through the open visor on my helmet. “Yeah, I'm good. You good?”
My best friend grins back wickedly, the familiar sight making my heart lurch. “Fuck yeah. Ready to run from some ghosts?”
Run from them, fight them… Or maybe just finally accept them for what they are?
After kicking my bike into gear, I share our ritual pre-stunt fistbump before emptying all thoughts out of my head except one:
Whatever it is I've been trying to control isn't working anymore.
And maybe some ghosts are worth chasing back.