5. Levi
CHAPTER 5
Levi
M arina del Rey, Thursday, August 14th
I had thought I’d tested the limits of what Cass could make me feel. Pleasure and pain, longing, betrayal, resentment, a bottomless pit of despair and inadequacy. I’d been wrong.
‘I know I fucked up, and I’m sorry.’
The words didn’t heal, exactly—they didn’t erase our past—but they echoed somewhere deep. Not a resolution, but a gentle shift, like a puzzle piece slipping into place without completing the picture. Sweetness tinged with an ache I couldn’t name, a weight lifted only to register as its absence.
We slotted back in with the other lads, the conversation lighter now that we weren’t performing for a camera. Jace reclaimed his shirt from Cass, which prompted a spirited discussion about how the tour bus had pretty much been one big communal wardrobe.
“You’ve all borrowed my shirts at some point,” Cass said. “Let’s not lie.”
“But I made them look best,” Jace threw in.
“Hey,” Mason said, nodding at me. “Remember that hoodie I used to wear all the time? Turns out it was yours.”
“Turns out?” I arched a disdainful brow, refusing to let my attention drift back to the inked constellation on Cass’s hip. The way he was sprawled on a sun lounger, all toned muscle and bronzed skin that gleamed with sunscreen, was of no concern to me. “You knew. You just hoped I wouldn’t notice.”
“The grey one that looked like a dress on Mason?” Ellis asked.
Jace reached over to poke Ellis in the chest. “That’s rich, coming from the guy who stole my leather jacket and stretched it out.”
“Okay,” Ellis said. “So we all shared. It’s called team spirit.”
“It’s called theft ,” I said, only to be reminded of the leather belt I’d lifted from Jace and had yet to return. It still served me well.
From there, the conversation meandered. We recalled the weirdest fan gifts we’d received, tour pranks that helped us pass the time, and that one time a hotel alarm had gone off at 3 a.m. and we ended up in the lobby in nothing but our boxers, with fans pressing against the glass to capture the moment. Mason talked about his next album while Jace and I shared stories of the artists we mentored. Ellis recounted his first experience with a blowout, which was apparently a thing that happened when a baby’s diapers just couldn’t contain the, uh... volume of the situation—a true rite of passage that I’d been lucky to skip.
No one mentioned Emily.
I’d have to tell Cass; I just didn’t know how. At the time, it had made sense to lock him out. Now that something between us had cracked open? Fuck.
‘I was in love with you, too.’
‘Just not enough, huh?’
‘You’re wrong.’
To combat the midday heat, we took a dip in the shallows off Palos Verdes, a sun-bleached paradise with cliffs that rose jagged and proud above the cobalt water. The ocean was startlingly clear, a pane of glass that stretched until it deepened into navy and finally melted into the sky. A couple of other boats drifted nearby—close enough that the occasional peal of laughter or splash reminded us we weren’t quite alone, but far enough that we could claim the space as ours.
The water was cool and sweet as I slid in. Around me, the others were already splashing like kids let loose in a park fountain, like we were right back in that music video we’d shot in Las Vegas, partying it up in front of the dramatically lit Fountains of Bellagio. Mason shouted something unintelligible, his voice bouncing off the cliffs, while Jace floated on his back, arms spread like a ritual sacrifice. Ellis attempted some kind of fancy leap off the side of the yacht, only to come up coughing and laughing.
And Cass—well. He cut through the water with smooth, unhurried strokes, his wet hair slicked back, leaving his face clean and open. When he dove under, swallowed by the shimmer of sunlight on water, I held my breath until he broke the surface again. Closer. Droplets clung like diamonds to his jaw, its contours sharpened by how the years had settled into him.
I was staring.
He noticed just as I did, obvious in how his lips curled up into something small and private. The weight of his gaze didn’t match the teasing lightness of his words. “Feels a bit like old times, doesn’t it?”
Did it? He’d used to make a show of everything—a flourish to how he threw on his jacket before a performance, the way he draped himself over the arm of a sofa during interviews, always with one eye on me as if daring me to react. Grin cocky, eyes too bright. And I’d force myself to stay steady, to keep my smile in check even when every nerve in my body had felt that pull—sharp, warm, crazy. But he’d been younger, just testing the waters, and I couldn’t be the one to push him in.
This wasn’t then.
“Because you’re still showing off?” I asked, aiming for easy. My voice caught around the edges.
He seemed to hesitate, indecision shadowing his face. When he smiled, it was sudden and real. “Yeah. And you’re still watching.”
I was—always. No point denying it. “I’m only human.”
He moved a little closer, his playfulness slipping away. The cliffs stood silent, the sky heavy with heat as everything else faded into white noise. His eyes held mine. “I’m not trying to prove anything. I just… I don’t want you to hate me anymore.”
Past and present, everything tangled in my mind. I shook my head in a useless attempt to clear it. “I never hated you.”
Something raw flickered across his face. “I’d deserve it.”
Treading water, enthralled by the reflections of light that glistened on his shoulders, I needed a moment to gather myself. “No, you wouldn’t. Like I said earlier—we were both young and overwhelmed.”
Funny how a week ago, or even yesterday, I might have lacked that clarity.
The moment splintered as Ellis’s voice carried across the water. “Is this a private therapy session, or can anyone join in?” A smirk softened his jab, but I jerked around all the same, the world thrown back into sharp relief. We were in public , people jumping into the water off a nearby boat, music drifting over from another.
“There’s a waitlist,” Cass called back. His gaze lingered for a beat longer, though, before one side of his mouth hitched up. There was no coyness to it, no bravado, fragile tension easing into something less weighty.
We paddled back towards the others. Jace’s laughter echoed off the rocks and Ellis was halfway through convincing Mason to try a daring and likely ill-fated dive when Cass nudged my shoulder with his, just once. Even though I didn’t quite dare look at him, the touch lingered like the aftertaste of something more sweet than bitter.
* * *
Emily’s first day of surfing had been, according to her, brilliant . Her board was huge , and she’d actually stood up for three whole seconds , and this other kid made the biggest splash ever , and she’d been hit in the face by a wave but that was fine because it had been so much fun .
“Can I get a shark tooth necklace?” was how she concluded her high-speed monologue, damp blonde curls a mess that would take me precious time to untangle.
Uh-oh. Parenting moment, here we go.
I tugged off the baseball cap I’d donned as a flimsy disguise to pick her up. Once the pap pictures hit the internet, I might have to up my game. “That sounds very surfer chic,” I told her, twisting in the passenger seat to give her a proper look. ”But you know what’s even cooler than wearing a shark tooth?”
She furrowed her brow. “What?”
“Letting sharks keep their teeth.” I sent her a smile. “Did you know they lose their teeth naturally, kind of like we lose our baby teeth? So any tooth they lose on their own, that’s fair game. But some necklaces come from people who hunt sharks just for their teeth.”
Mason, driving, made a soft noise while Emily’s face fell. “Oh. That’s really not cool, is it?”
“It’s not,” I said. “Sharks are super important to the ocean, you know? They keep everything in balance, so when they’re hurt, it messes everything up. No healthy sharks, no healthy waves.”
Fine, that was a stretch. But it did the trick because she nodded, all grave and mature. ”Okay. I don’t want a shark tooth necklace anymore.”
“Tell you what, poppet,” Mason said. “How about we get you a sea glass pendant instead? You can pick the colour!”
She considered it with all the seriousness it deserved. “I want a pink one.”
“Your wish is my command,” Mason said, and she giggled, shark tooth necklace already forgotten as she and Mason launched into dinner plans. I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes for a moment, simply listening to them, wistful for something I couldn’t quite name.
During the adoption process, I’d gone through counselling and multiple interviews to assess my suitability and support network. My parents would be there for us, of course, but without a partner, I’d faced gently probing questions like ‘Are you prepared to do this on your own?’ Not a barrier so much as forcing me to think through the realities.
Once in a blue moon, I wondered if it would be easier with someone else, especially in those moments when I doubted my own judgement. Fly Business Class to protect our privacy or Economy to ensure she stayed grounded? How much freedom could I grant her while keeping her safe? Should I discourage her love of princesses since it played into gender stereotypes?
But I was fine.
Emily and I were fine.
* * *
Beverly Hills, Friday, August 15th
Mason’s “Huh” was my first clue that something was off.
His team had sent him a morning briefing on how the pictures had landed. Apparently, headlines ranged from ‘Neon Circuit Recharged?’ to ‘Making Waves: Neon Circuit Members Rekindle on Luxury Yacht’ to ‘Neon Circuit Fans Go Wild Over Reunion Sighting!’ All according to plan. But now, scrolling through his phone as he spooned cereal into his mouth, his attention flickered from the screen to me, and back down.
“What?” I asked.
“One of the fan accounts posted more pictures.”
“From yesterday?” I locked my phone, having successfully reassured my mum that yes, we were alive, and no, neither Emily nor I had been at risk of drowning at any point since we’d arrived. No matter how many continents I set foot on, certain things I would never outgrow.
“Yeah. Different ones, though.” Mason angled his screen so I could see it, colours darkened by the sunshine washing over his terrace. I’d have to wake Emily in just a bit—with rehearsals starting tomorrow, today was our best bet for visiting Disneyland. Although in hindsight, it might have been smarter to do it before alerting our fans to my presence.
Then the picture registered.
Cass and I in the water, so close we looked a breath away from a kiss—the angle, mostly. It was a bit grainy, likely taken with someone’s phone, and maybe it would have faded into obscurity if not for how the name of the yacht showed in the background, easily linking it to the pap shots.
“Swipe right,” Mason said.
I did, and there were more pictures—one of the other lads, one of Cass and me rejoining them, then all of us back on the boat with Jace’s back tattoo easily recognisable, a boldly shaded storm cloud with rays of sun breaking through. Not ideal, but not too incriminating either.
“It’s not too bad, is it?” I asked, glancing up at Mason.
“Bad?” he echoed.
“As in, you know.” I spread my hands. “The picture of Cass and me would have meant a whole load of damage control back then. But I guess there’s a bit more leeway now.”
When the rumours about us were at their fiercest, even small slip-ups had triggered a flurry of activity. No denial, nothing that obvious, but Cass would hit some fashion show and hug a few models while my fake girlfriend would fly out for some lovey-dovey pictures. I’d resented the situation but luckily not her—I was doing my job and so was she.
Well, that ship had sailed, what with how I was out to anyone who cared to dig a little. But with Cass in the picture—literally? I’d better steel myself in case he showed up with some pretty woman on his arm.
Also, none of my business. I’d long since lost my claim on him.
“A bit more leeway,” Mason echoed flatly. He set his phone aside, abandoning his cereal in favour of weighing me like an auction item he might want to bid on. “I thought you and Cass had a chat?”
“We did, yeah.” I hadn’t shared any details with Mason—hard to explain why Cass would apologise when we’d always declared our breakup a mutual decision.
“Seems there’s stuff you haven’t covered,” Mason said.
“Like Emily, yeah.” I sighed. “It felt right at the time—we hadn’t talked for three years. But now? Fuck, Mason. I think he’ll be hurt that I didn’t tell him.”
“Yeah,” Mason said, “he will be.” No sugarcoating, and I appreciated and resented it in equal measures. “But that’s not actually what I meant.”
“No?”
“No.”
“So you meant… what?”
Mason’s phone lit up. He glanced down at the screen, then back at me. “Why don’t you ask Cass if there are things he hasn’t told you yet?”
“Ominous.”
Mason shrugged. “Well, hey. He’s here, so?—”
“He’s here?” I cut in. Shit. I was unshaven, clad in boxers and a ratty sleep T-shirt that might have belonged to Ellis at some point. Not that Cass hadn’t seen me looking worse, but… not since then.
“Yup. Just entered his code for the gate.” Mason’s smile was beatific. Oh, the little shit.
“What’s he doing here?”
“How would I know? Ask him.”
“You are supremely unhelpful.”
Mason grinned and resumed eating his cereal as though this was just your average Friday morning. Christ, I wasn’t ready. At least yesterday, I’d been able to mentally prepare myself. Should I slip away until my idiot heart slowed down, maybe grab some jeans while I was at it? Or would that be too obvious? I wasn’t supposed to care anymore. Not like this.
“Want me to stall him while you grab your tiara, pretty princess?” Mason asked, and that settled it.
“I’m taking you out of my will,” I told Mason. “Also, I’m not trying to impress him.”
“‘Course not,” Mason said. “Anyway, I plan to die young and beautiful. I expect you to cry at the funeral.”
“Big, fat tears.”
“It’s the least you can do.”
Just then, the front door opened, and Cass called out, “Good morning! Mason, Levi?”
Shit. Emily . What if he’d woken her? This wasn’t how I wanted him to find out. Not that I had a plan, but—not like this. Nor through him happening across pictures of us at Disneyland, wondering why I’d brought her here with me only to stumble over the truth. Yeah, I really had no fucking plan.
“Terrace!” Mason yelled back, which, great. With all this shouting going on, even the dead should be awake by now.
“Emily,” I muttered at him, and Mason shot me a look.
“You’ll have to tell him eventually.”
“Says who?” I asked even though he was utterly, completely right. Cass emerged into the sunny morning before Mason could tell me to stop talking bollocks. Bright-eyed, Cass was smiling faintly, a hint of a flush to his cheeks. In his fitted white T-shirt and designer jeans, he looked like he’d stepped straight out of a magazine.
Yeah. We weren’t playing in the same league anymore.
“Missed us already?” Mason asked, spoon dripping milk as he gestured for Cass to make himself comfortable next to me on the outdoor sofa. Couldn’t catch a break, could I? I tucked myself up against the arm and acted like I didn’t notice how Cass’s gaze lingered. Nostalgia, most likely. I was hardly a sight for sore eyes.
“Every second of every day,” Cass told Mason, deadpan. “Can’t live or breathe without you.”
Mason fluttered his eyelashes. “Be still, my heart.”
All right, okay. Banter? I could do this. It was my bloody trademark , and being caught in my pants by my forever what-if wouldn’t stop me. “You two writing the next big love song? Because I gotta tell you, Bob Dylan it is not.”
“Oh ye of little faith,” Mason said.
“Oh ye of little originality,” I countered.
Cass flashed his dimples at me, something lurking underneath that I couldn’t quite place. “Morning, sunshine. Got up on the wrong side of the bed?”
“No, I always look this radiant.”
He let his gaze slide down my body, one side of his mouth tugging up. “You didn’t have to dress up for me.”
Jesus, what was this? Joking, obviously. Right.
“You two need a room?” Mason asked. He looked distinctly happy with himself, impervious to the glare I shot his way.
“Actually,” Cass said, suddenly serious as he turned to me before I could dispel Mason’s delusions, “if I could talk to you for a minute?”
Mason hopped to his feet like he’d been waiting for a chance to leave us alone. “I know when I’m third-wheeling in my own home. See ya!”
Subtle. Not.
Awkward silence fell in his wake, broken only by the overhead whir of a helicopter, a distant hum of traffic overlaid by the cheerful chirps of sparrows rustling in the bushes. Sunlight caught the faint shadow of stubble on Cass’s jaw, focused tension in the tilt of his shoulders, his entire body turned towards me on the sofa.
“So.” My voice was a little scratchy, easily blamed on jet lag and the morning hour. “What did you want to talk about?”
The pause stretched long enough to grow uncomfortable. His eyes darted to the sparrows, then back to me as the corners of his mouth pulled tight with resolve.
“Right. So.” He inhaled and lifted his chin. “I’m going to come out.”