15. Will
FIFTEEN
WILL
“Just having a quick drink. Nothing but a casual hangout.”
That’s what Ari said before he left. What he told us as he raced through a shower but took the time to dry his hair and change his shirt twice before running out of our suite to meet up with his new “friend” in the hotel bar. After midnight.
I’m not the only one who doesn’t believe him.
Naz and Jesse share a knowing look, while I avert my gaze and pretend to be distracted by my phone.
The same way I pretended not to care about the way they both playfully grilled Ari about the super hot actor he spent all night talking to after soundcheck yesterday.
They were so impressed by the way Ari was so casually chatting up such a famous Hollywood actor.
And then Ari couldn’t stop talking about how down-to-earth he was, and how easy Alonso was to talk to.
It makes me sick. Literally, my stomach is in knots and I feel nauseous.
Casual hangout my ass. I saw the way that man was looking at him last night. It’s the same way I look at him when I forget to control my face.
What kind of pretentious name is Alonso, anyway?
I couldn’t quite place him right away, just knew he looked familiar and way too pretty, but in a super chiseled-jaw manly way that screams Hollywood .
It was obvious from the get-go that he wanted Ari.
I recognized it like looking in a mirror.
At first it was just a little casual flirting, some easy laughter and a lot of the usual, “Oh, you’re famous too, let’s talk about how hard being super rich and famous is. ”
Well, that’s what I’m assuming they were talking about. I was too far away to hear the conversation. I just know that they kept talking, kept laughing, even peeled away from the rest of their entourages to treat each other like the only two people in the world for the rest of the night.
If anyone asked me what I was doing on my phone so much last night, I would have told them a million other things other than the truth, which was doing a deep-dive internet search on Alonso Carter.
I spent all night reading everything I could find about him, and I’m ashamed to say that I was disappointed by how much of a good guy he seems to be.
Even the tabloids don’t have anything negative to say about him, they only post a lot of conjecture about what other A-list celebrities the openly bisexual Hollywood heartthrob might be dating.
He’s big into queer advocacy, donates a large portion of his filming income to local shelters and food banks without advertising it for clout, and everyone who’s ever met him can’t say enough good things.
I should be happy for Ari. Alonso seems perfect for him. He’s exactly the kind of guy a beautiful, kind person like Ari should be with. Someone who he could be proud of. Someone he could be with openly.
Someone who isn’t too much of a fucking coward to come out and be honest about what he wants. Who can’t even agree to a casual arrangement to test the potential of the energy between us.
He put the ball in my court, and I stared at it while it rolled out of bounds. I said nothing. Did nothing. Went back to pretending we have a normal relationship and that I’m not crumbling under the pressure of just how much I want him to be mine in every conceivable way.
I have no room to be upset. I did nothing, and now he owes me nothing.
I’m regretting that now. Unfair or not, seeing Ari smile at someone else is exactly what makes me want to jump in and choose option three. Or at least option two. Anything that doesn’t leave me out of the equation.
But it’s too late now. And I’m stuck watching the only person I’ve ever loved find a spark with someone who actually deserves him.
Shortly after Ari leaves, I’m alone in the living room of our suite. Jesse ran off to talk on the phone, and I have no idea what Naz is doing. Probably taking a bubble bath or reading, doing something a sane person would be doing right now.
I’m too wired to read or watch anything, or sleep or do anything else other than overthink and panic. And I’m too stupid to funnel my restless energy into something constructive like exercise or music. Instead, I do what any rational person in my position would do.
I decide to go have a drink. In the same bar where Ari is sitting across from Alonso, looking relaxed and happy and genuinely engaged in whatever conversation they’re having.
I hate it.
Like a total creeper, I take a seat in a far corner of the hotel bar, where I can see Ari and Alonso but they’re unlikely to see me. And I watch.
I watch Ari chat animatedly. Laugh loudly and openly. I watch him blush and smile shyly.
I watch when Alonso leans forward and brushes a lock of hair behind Ari’s ear.
The table creaks from the weight of the pressure of me holding back the urge to run over there and yank his hands off my Ari. It's not until I think I might burst a blood vessel that I realize I’m holding my breath.
Do I really want to be here to witness Ari being charmed by some guy who might be perfect for him but isn’t me? Am I ready to watch him kiss another man, when I’ve only gotten to once, as children who didn’t know what they were getting themselves into?
What if they decide to leave together? What if Alonso stands and holds out his hand, and Ari takes it? What if he follows him to his room?
What would I do? What could I do?
Beg him not to go? Say I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want, but I also can’t let you have it with anyone else ? Drink until I black out so I can’t follow them? Pace in our hotel suite until he does the walk of shame back to our rooms?
Who am I kidding? He’d probably stay the night and have breakfast in bed, too.
He’d show back up days later with a serene smile on his face and hearts in his eyes and inform us all that it was not, in fact, a quick drink with a friend.
He’s in love and they’re going to get married on a terrace in the south of France, surrounded by all their closest friends and family and their six, perfect orphaned babies they adopted together.
First, he’ll be following him into the elevator. Next, the aisle.
My vision goes white at the edges.
This is where it ends. This is where I lose everything I ever wanted and everything I’m too chicken shit to have.
I can’t even pretend this is about safety. It’s impossible to dress this up as concern or protection. I know Alonso would be good for him. I know Ari could be happy with someone like him. The public, our fans and his, would love them together. The world would love them together.
But he belongs with me. He’s mine.
This is about possession. This is about not wanting anyone else to have him because my heart, my body, my mind, my everything decided a long, long time ago that Ari is mine.
My phone is in my hand before I fully realize what I’m doing.
I tell myself it’s an innocent prank. A harmless irritation. A little noise to break up the cozy romantic bubble. Something I can save him from and take him upstairs with me where he’s safe and not being touched by Alonso Carter.
There’s some hesitation before I send the first anonymous tip.
But the second one is easier. It gets easier and my plan makes more sense the deeper into it I go, even sending a grainy photo of the side of Alonso’s face, along with some speculation about who he’s with.
I possibly hint at the wrong band member, because I know Jesse’s name will pull more attention.
I’m just creating a tiny distraction. The consequences or just how completely insane this is don’t really occur to me. Or maybe they do, and I ignore them.
Things go south pretty quickly. The news spreads faster than I thought possible, and madness takes over.
First, it’s whatever paparazzi were closest when the alert went out. They walk casually through the lobby and into the hotel bar, snapping photos at everyone there until they find their target.
Alonso’s security jumps up to block the cameras, and I watch as Alonso pulls Ari to the ground behind their table to protect him.
He’s protecting him. And I’m the one that caused this shit.
My eyes track Ari’s reaction. I see his smile fall as confusion flashes over his features, then fear when the shouting starts.
Thank fuck Eric is sitting near the bar entryway when it starts.
He springs into action and blocks the doors, ushering people out as Alonso’s security team and the two bartenders clear out everyone who isn’t staying in the hotel.
There’s yelling as a bunch of obnoxious tabloid reporters flood the lobby.
News vans and bystanders with cell phone cameras are next, all scrambling to take pictures through the glass doors. Then it’s the fans. Not just any fans—rabid fans that don’t give a fuck about boundaries as long as they can touch the object of their obsession.
Eric, Alonso’s three security guys, and a mix of hotel staff and security try to get the crowd under control. The doors bow with the weight of people pushing against them, two security guys in front of the door to hold them back, and Eric barricading the door from the inside.
This is bad.
In a matter of minutes, the hotel is swarmed by a full-out mob. There might be three people out there that actually saw anything, but they’re still rabid. Alonso’s name is shouted, and I think I hear Ari’s name, too. But it’s Jesse’s name they’re chanting.
I look over at Ari again, now shaking in Alonso’s arms.
Fuck.
Not only did I stir up some shit, but I pushed him right where I didn’t want him to be.
More than that, he’s really scared.
I did that to him. And that feels even shitier than imagining him in bed with Alonso.