Chapter Twenty-Six. Dead Birds
Chapter Twenty-Six
Dead Birds
Felix’s tender embrace greets me in the morning.
He resembles a painting, as if each strand of hair and sweeping eyelash were created with the delicate stroke of a brush.
I lean in and place a kiss on his cutting jawline, breathing in the scent of the obnoxious cologne that always lingers on his skin.
“G’mornin’,” he mumbles in that butterfly-inducing morning voice.
“Morning,” I reply, softly running my fingers along his bare collarbone. “We should talk.”
His face scrunches into a frown. “Or we could have a cuddle!” He drags me closer and kisses me, lingering as long as he can. Before I get distracted, I scoot away. Felix groans but hauls himself into a sitting position.
I want him. I want us. But that’s never going to be an easy thing to have.
“Where do we go from here? Logistically this would be hard to maintain, and your label would be pissed. And what happens after this tour? You live in LA and I’m in Seatt—”
“Breathe, darling. Don’t worry so much,” he interrupts. “Now that the band’s more established, I’ll be visiting home more. I’m committed to spending time with my family and you.”
I frown as seeds of doubt worm their way into my head.
“Trust me. I’m not missing any more of Aves’ life—wait, did she tell you she has a crush on— —girl from tennis?
I can’t miss my baby sister’s sexuality crisis!
” I finally relax, and he kisses my forehead.
“And I’ve gotta be there for you. I wanna see everything you do— —the Center.
Plus, you’ve finally realized that I’m actually incredible, and talented, and hot as fu—”
“You’re very humble, too,” I grumble playfully.
He breaks into a cheeky grin before tilting my chin up with his thumb and locking eyes with me. “The tour will be over soon. For now, we have to lay low. Can you trust me, please?”
Tuning out my logical side goes against my very nature … But I’ll try. Because Felix Song is worth every risk. Every. Single. One.
“OK-OK. I trust you.”
“Good. We’re doing this thing,” he announces. I give him a quick peck before sliding out of bed. It’s 6:05 a.m., but today is a travel day, which start bright and early.
He chuckles while I inelegantly put on last night’s black romper. Nobody can look sexy while putting on a romper. Nobody. Before leaving, I peer through the peephole. Once I see the coast is clear, I slip out.
My delight immediately vanishes when I quite literally run into Lachlan as he’s exiting Calum’s and Will’s room. I stumble backward, but Lachlan grips my shoulder and steadies me. I regain my footing and stare up at him.
Lachlan’s forehead puckers in a frown. He leans down and snatches a gray sweater-vest off the floor. He must’ve dropped it when he grabbed my shoulder, because in his left hand, he holds a blue one.
“Good morning!” Calum says from the doorway. “Sleep well?” he asks, tone teasing. His brown eyes dart from Felix’s door to me.
He knows. They know.
Shit.
“Oh, um … uh … we…” I scramble to string together an excuse, but nothing coherent comes out.
“Hey, dude. Snitches get stitches.” He jabs Lachlan in the ribs when he doesn’t piggyback off that. “Ahem. We didn’t see anything, capiche?”
Lachlan’s gaze pierces me. “Capiche,” he says terribly unconvincingly.
“Thanks, Cal,” I say.
“It’s Bro Code.” I start to leave, but he stops me. “Wait, Natalie, Lach’s seeking sweater-vest opinions. Blue or gray?” He gestures toward the options. “Wardrobe’s letting him pick his outfit since he’s been such a good boy lately,” he teases, pinching Lachlan’s cheek.
I examine both. “Blue,” I decide. “It complements your eyes. Makes them pop.”
For a split second, I think he’s going to thank me, maybe stop acting so weird, but instead, he holds up the gray. “I think I’m going with this one.”
The action shouldn’t sting so much, but his blatant disregard of my opinion feels symbolic of our friendship taking a hit.
Hurt and perplexed, I blink at him a few times and find his gaze distant, mouth tilted in a tight frown. Wordlessly, I head for my room.
“Be back in the lobby in two hours,” Necktie snaps as we arrive at the Field Museum of Natural History in Chicago. I rub my eyes and suppress a yawn, suddenly regretting playing games with Felix instead of squeezing in a four-hour nap between Detroit and here.
Will sets up his tripod and gets group photos in front of the museum’s massive marble pillars—he even pulls me in for a few shots—then they take selfies and GoPro clips.
Necktie sits on a bench and starts clacking on his laptop.
The boys and I share a collective look of relief knowing he won’t be breathing down our necks.
“There’s nothing I love more than art. And looking at it. For hours,” Calum grumbles as we pay admission.
“This isn’t an art museum,” Mateo corrects.
“Semantics. It’s still boring.”
“There are dinosaurs.”
“Oh shit, really?”
We crowd around Mateo while he looks at an exhibit map. Will declares he’s going to the bird hall, and Mateo and Calum pair up for fossils.
Felix looks at me. “Where d’you wanna go?”
“You pick; we’re here for your music video.”
“You sure?” his pointer finger drops from his chin. I knock a fist. “The gem and jade halls sound cool.”
Everyone disperses. But as Felix, Ginger, and I head for the jade hall, Lachlan follows.
I eye him. A few hours ago, he was acting standoffish and bizarre, so why is he hanging with us?
When we reach the jade hall, I gape at the mélange. Everything from ornate vases shaped like dragons to engraved tablets with Chinese characters to intricate necklaces are on proud display.
Felix’s eyes light up as he takes it in. The walls are washed in a medley of greens and blues from the precious artifacts, and when he steps closer to a vitrine with cups and bowls, he glows green.
I record on the GoPro, getting candid shots of his awestruck smile. Lachlan enters the frame, and Felix points to something and speaks inaudibly, both of them laugh.
The routine continues when we reach the gem hall. Lavish jewelry and elaborate statues occupy glass cases. Colors dance on the walls, floors, and Felix and Lachlan as they explore.
I follow them around like a videographer and get an array of angles. Will would be proud.
After they look at the first two gem displays, Felix doubles back and walks beside me.
“I’m getting pretty good at GoPro-ing,” I tell him. “I can add it to my résumé.”
He chuckles, then quickly glances in every direction before his pinkie finger hooks around mine. We walk farther into the hall, and he intertwines our other fingers.
My heart beats faster. This is playing with fire.
The room is darkened to give the gems the spotlight, likely concealing us, but dozens of people surround us. Worst-case scenarios run through my head. What if someone sees? What if people are secretly recording?
The frenzy caused by innocent photos of us ice-skating spiraled out of control, turning harmless fun into conspiracy theories.
Yet … the danger sharpens the thrill. Tempting fate like this sends endorphins rushing through me, and instead of letting go, I squeeze his hand tighter.
Trying to act natural, I focus on a gold ring with a marble-size ruby encased in tiny diamonds. “This is a pretty exhibit,” I say. Felix’s grin nearly undoes me. There’s a playful gleam in his eyes, like he’s daring me to enjoy this dangerous little game as much as he clearly is.
“Not as pretty as you.” My insides start feeling as sparkly as the gemstones, and my cheeks flush.
Our fleeting moment of bliss expires when I see Lachlan out of the corner of my eye. His eyes are glued to our hands, and I quickly release Felix’s.
“I’ll get more clips of you,” I say, motioning for him to walk ahead. He follows instructions, oblivious to Lachlan’s glaring.
While he’s focused on displays, Lachlan slinks past him and matches my stride. I automatically tense up, still sensing his weird aura from this morning. “I saw you.”
I don’t reply, keeping my eyes forward.
“When did things change between you? Why didn’t you tell me?” He grabs my wrist and stops me. “Please be honest.”
“Why do you care? I don’t expect you to tell me everything about your relationships.”
His jaw tightens. “He’s not right for you. You should explore other options.”
Frustration bubbles up. Why is he so insistent on inserting himself into our … flirtationship? Relationship? We-confessed-our-feelings-but-technically-haven’t-put-a-label-on-it-ship? Our thing.
“I’ve thought through every pro and con. Every potential scenario,” I respond. And I still chose Felix because I care about him so deeply it could consume me whole. We chose each other. “You don’t get to dictate my personal life.”
“I’m trying to look out for y—”
“Butt out, Lachlan!” I snap louder than intended.
His expression darkens, and he sucks his teeth, deep blue eyes roving over my face. His mouth is ajar, and hands primed to respond, but before he can, Felix approaches. “Everything alright?” He looks at Lachlan expectantly but is met with the cold shoulder as he storms out of the gem hall.
Felix watches him, confusion evident on his face. “What’s going on?” he asks.
“I don’t know. He’s been acting weird lately.”
If I tell him about this ongoing squabble with Lachlan, it would only stir the pot of tension soup these two are already cooking.
Although, if Lachlan doesn’t address his attitude problem, it might be stirred anyway.
Felix decides to leave the conversation hanging in midair.
We speed run Ancient Egypt and Māori exhibitions, take NIGHT AT THE MUSEUM–inspired clips with a T.
Rex skeleton, then head for the lobby. We beat the others, but before I celebrate getting here early, I spot Lachlan with Necktie.
His hands move erratically as he whispers heatedly, his posture rigid.
Felix chatters about how he wants to be buried in a pyramid someday, clueless to their hushed conversation.
Necktie spots us, and instantaneously a fat purple vein on his forehead bulges. His sneer is unnerving, and his fists are balled. Lachlan whips his head around and tracks his line of sight. He clams up when he sees us approaching and takes several steps away from Necktie.
Fortunately, Calum and Mateo show up, and shortly after Will enters from the opposite direction, potentially saving us from an outburst.
Instead, Necktie aggressively waves his printed schedule in the air. “Let’s go. We have to be at— —thirty minutes.”
“How was the bird hall?” Mateo asks as we leave the museum.
“I thought it was going to be an aviary.” Will shakes his head solemnly. “They were all dead.”