- 14 -

I was out of shape.

That much was clear as I struggled to keep up with Noah's quick movements. I worked out a lot during the break between tours, but once we hit the road I didn't take care of myself at all.

When Noah told me he wanted to go hiking an hour and a half out from Charlotte, where my first show in North Carolina was, I almost said no. I couldn't think of a worse way to spend my time off. Wasn't it enough to face it one of my biggest fears at Six Flags last week?

"Russo," I huffed, "I need a second."

He turned around and grinned at me. There was a few beads of sweat gliding down his forehead, but he didn't seem fazed. "Can't handle a little exercise, Thorne?" Noah laughed, striding back towards me as I fell onto the ground with a thud.

"Not this kind," I breathed, digging my water bottle out of the side pocket of my backpack. "What do you say we head back early and grab some greasy food?"

"Not a chance. I want to get to the top and take pictures," he said, grabbing his own water bottle. I blew air past my lips and sighed. "Come on, you big baby. You wanna know why I love this so much?"

I glanced at him. He looked pleased as punch, his eyes darting around the greenery surrounding us. We were hardly a quarter of the way up and there wasn't much to see yet. Thick brush on either side of us, small trees and bushes with a small paved trail between. Sure, the view would be worth it in the end, but it was hot and there were bugs and I was sweaty.

"What?" I grumbled.

He gestured around us. "This is the first thing we've done where we haven't been recognized. I mean, hell, we haven't seen a single person since entering the state park!"

That was true. It was nice to walk around freely without someone stopping us for pictures.

"You're right. Sorry," I said, pushing myself back up to full height. "Let's do this shit."

Noah seemed pleased with getting his way, a small smile on his lips. He joined me and we went back to walking. I cleared my head while we hiked. I'll give it to Noah, this was the perfect way to lay down all my shit and try to figure out what to do about my feelings for Noah.

I was positive it was a fleeting attraction. All of the memories and endeavors from the past were probably rising to the top and I was feeling nostalgic. It was probably just a messy mix of my newfound sexuality, plus Noah's uncanny glow up in the past ten or so years, and a little bit of resurfaced fondness for the man. It was all of those things and more, I feared, and I wasn't sure what to do with it.

The honest thing to do would be to just talk to him about it. Maybe find out if he feels the same way. I was sure he didn't, but a guy could hope.

The dishonest thing to do would be to be to either push all of these feelings away and pretend they never existed, or to just YOLO it and make a move blindly. Neither of these sounded particularly effective, but it would likely be what would end up happening. Then I'd probably ruin things between us since that was my specialty.

But what would come of it? I tell Noah how I've been feeling, we fuck, then live happily ever after? It wasn't realistic.

By the time we made it to the top of the trail before we double back down the mountain, we had both long abandoned our shirts. I could feel the sweat dripping down my back, soaking the waistband of my joggers. Noah looked like the heat didn't even bother him. Maybe it didn't, since we both smothered ourselves in sunscreen this time. As it turned out, baking under hundreds of spotlights wasn't ideal when your skin was blistered ahead of time from the sun.

"Wow," was all either of us could say.

A vast landscape spread before our very eyes. The mountain we stood near the edge of was only one of tens of hundreds. The tops of the trees varied in colors from browns and greens to what almost appeared like oranges and blues. Along the horizon, it didn't seem like it ever ended, maybe just blended into the clouds.

We stepped closer to the edge and sat down on a rugged rock that poked out far enough to swing our legs off of.

"We aren't worthy," Noah mumbled.

"Yeah," I said plainly.

Our thighs touched on the rock. I looked down at Noah's pale thigh, exposed by his short little athletic shorts. From the angle we were sitting in, I couldn't look at his face without being close enough to make it weird. It was hard to look away from the view in front of us, anyways.

"Do you think you're ever gonna act again?" I asked, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

Noah hummed, shrugging off his backpack and grabbing his water bottle again. I waited for him to take a good gulp before holding it in his lap, the lid clanging against the metal bottle. "I, uh . . . I don't know," he said. I leaned back on my hands. "Acting has taken so much out of me. I've finally reached this point where I feel almost normal—well, not anymore, thanks to you."

I chuckled.

"I don't think I can take much more negativity anymore. All of the shit online and the hours of bad energy on set . . . I feel like I'd break my sobriety sooner than later. It took years for me to even realize I fucking hate acting."

"I get it, trust me," I said, looking at the back of his head. My eyes slid down his back at each knob of his spine, to a dark brown birthmark on his left hip. I reached out and traced the shape of it, making him look back at me. "You have a birthmark here."

He laughed breathily. "I know," he said. My fingers barely ghosted over his skin. "You . . . You're so gentle with me. I don't get it."

I froze and retracted my hand. "Me, neither."

Our eyes met and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. It was the entire split second of staring at Noah Russo, sitting beside me at the top of some fucking mountain in North Carolina, looking incredibly beautiful in the mid-afternoon light. His fluttery, battered brown eyes, his broad shoulders, his soft lips. I opened my mouth, but I couldn't speak. I couldn't move.

But it was just a second.

He turned back to face the view. I wondered if he felt that, too. "Do you think you'll act again?" he asked, sounding a bit more far away than he did a moment ago.

"Yeah, probably," I sighed, sitting back up. "I've been focusing on music a lot more. Performing is more fun and I get more free time, but I'm a good fucking actor, right?"

Noah laughed. "Yeah, you are."

We sat there for maybe thirty minutes until the heat got to be too much. A passing hiker took our photo together and then we took individual shots. I was glad we used my phone because I was going to cherish a shot I got of him laughing at a dumb joke I cracked forever.

About halfway down, I started whining again. "I'm tired," I cried. "Carry me."

Noah stopped and narrowed his eyes at me. He flipped his backpack to the front and bent his knees. I let out a mischievous laugh and took full advantage, carefully climbing onto his back with my arms secured around his shoulders. He held my upper thighs and rose to full height and, unexpectedly, carried me with little effort. I could smell the shampoo he used and the sweet scent of sweat on his skin.

"How are you doing this? You've got Dustin's stamina after taking a gas station pill," I giggled in his ear, making him falter a bit with a laugh. "Seriously. You're carrying me on uneven ground like a body builder but you're so . . . tiny."

He harrumphed. "I'll drop you off the edge of the mountain."

"Please," I begged when he tilted to the side teasingly. "I didn't mean, like, tiny in a bad way. I just mean . . . cute tiny. Like a bug."

I almost screamed out loud when he bucked his back, kicking me off like a horse. He turned to face me and crossed his arms. "Like a fucking bug?" he asked with an adorably failed attempt at an angry expression on his face. That, and his backpack still on his stomach, wasn't helping his case at all.

"Just like a bug," I said and pinched his cheek for good measure.

He huffed and turned around to stomp away. I laughed the whole way back to the beginning of the trial, thinking of new bugs to compare him to. My personal favorite was saying he looked like those cute little jumping spiders, to which he replied, "You won't think they're cute when I buy fifty online and put them in your bed," and then I remarked, "I'll be fine because Chester loves me and he'll eat them all to protect me."

Back in the car to take our almost three hour ride back to Charlotte, Noah broke his fake grudge against me to smile at me. "I really needed this," he said.

And then he fell asleep with his head on the window like the cute little bumblebee he was.

—

Noah hung out backstage at my show.

He made friends with my guitarist, as it turned out, and they made plans to hang out after the show. I didn't know much about Chris, but he seemed like an okay guy. It was easy to make friends when you're around the same people over and over.

When the show was over and I performed my last encore, I all but crawled to the green room. My body was aching all over due to somebody's brilliant idea to go hiking the day before a show. I was exhausted and dehydrated and, frankly, just wanted a beer and my bed.

I whooped when I saw Noah. "That was a good ass show, Russo," I said, still running on adrenaline. He looked up from his phone and smiled. "Someone had a sign that said, Blink if #Neo is real."

"What is Neo?"

"It's our ship name," I explained, staring at him blankly. "How have you not heard of Neo?"

He shrugged. "I don't go on social media unless I have to. Too much fake bullshit on there," he said and I almost felt bad. All of the photos of the two of us he'd felt he had to post. "Do people seriously think we're together?"

"Yup. They have since we were kids. Kinda gross."

"So gross," he laughed.

Chris sauntered into the green room and took a seat next to Noah. "Hey there," he greeted and swung an arm over the back of the couch. I grabbed a beer and offered it to Chris, who looked stunned for a moment that I'd even considered him, but took it anyways. Then I grabbed myself one. "That was a good show. I always love coming here."

"It's usually a pretty tight crowd because there's not a lot of venues in the neighboring states. Lot of people come here from far away just for shows," I said, reciting what a fan told me just the night before outside of the bus. "I wish we could go to smaller venues for people who can't afford to travel."

"Yeah, bro. I come from Idaho and I had to go all the way to Vegas to see anyone good," Chris said disdainfully. "I'd love to do small shows every once in a while."

I nodded thoughtfully. Maybe I could talk to Harriet about looking into small venues in states we never go to. Maybe extending the tour as a surprise. I wasn't sure what the logistics were or if it was more of a security thing.

Noah stretched out his legs. "I'm starving."

Chris's arm was on the verge of touching Noah's shoulders and I felt a twinge of discomfort. He was allowed to have friends. I wasn't delusional. But the way Noah seemed to lean in towards Chris's body wasn't subtle enough to ignore. I sipped my beer, trying not to look accusingly between the two of them so as not to seem obvious.

"I say we order pizza to the bus, smoke a bunch of weed, and watch a movie," I said, slapping my hands on my thighs. "My muscles feel like they're going to explode after yesterday."

Noah lit up at the idea. "Hell yeah. You in, Chris?"

Immediately, Chris looked at me. I knew I didn't have the best relationship with my band (in fact, the worst relationship possible), so it made sense for him to check with me to make sure it was okay. I just shrugged. I was tired of being the bad guy these days.

I don't remember what tour it was or what even set me off, but there was a really bad show in Denver a year or two back. We, the band, me, and the crew, were all still getting the hang of things, so the shows themselves were a bit shifty at times. At this particular show, none of the cues were on time, the backtracks were never in sync with the band, and I kept fucking up the lyrics. So after the show, I got piss drunk and berated Chris, Kailey, and my bassist, Oscar.

I think it was easy for me to treat people like shit because I never got any push back. Who would dare double cross me when I was the one earning their paychecks?

So Chris probably hated me. Or maybe he didn't. I didn't really know.

"Alright, yeah. I'm in," he said. "Should I invite the other guys, or what?" Once again, he looked at me. I just shrugged again. He seemed confused and maybe a little excited.

He went off to find Kailey and Oscar. I held little hope that Kailey wanted to be around me any more than she needed to. Sure, I gave her her solo in Fever Dream back. So fucking what? Burnt bridges were hard to rebuild. As for Oscar, I was pretty positive he hated my guts, too.

Noah looked at me a little funny. I furrowed my eyebrows. "What are you looking at, ladybug?" I asked teasingly.

"Nothing," he said quickly. I narrowed my eyes at him and he sighed, his brown eyes finding the floor as he confronted me. "Chris said . . . Well, he said you've always been a dickhead to the band. I guess I'm just surprised you're willing to even hang out with them."

I frowned. And that right there, that little disappointed look on his face, was the reason I wanted to stop being a 'dickhead' to everyone. The way he bit at his bottom lip and avoided my eyes and tried to mask the expression with little quirks of his cheeks. I could tell he was skeptical of the dissonance between my actions versus the stories he'd hear about me.

Not that I could blame him.

"I'm an asshole," I said honestly. He finally looked back up at me. "I've been an asshole for years and I'm trying not to be . . . anymore. I'm trying to be better. I spent too long being shitty to people who were just trying to do their job. So maybe hanging out with them won't make them forgive me, but I can try to be better, right?"

This was the most honest I'd been in, well, forever. I was trying to extend an olive branch to the people I'd wronged over and over. The ball was in their court in terms of forgiveness or dismissal. And I wasn't allowed to judge their decision.

"Right," Noah replied. But he didn't look convinced. Just like everyone else.

I jumped up, winching at the aches in my calves and thighs. Extending a hand towards Noah, I looked down at him. "Shall we?" I asked. He took my hand and let me pull him to his feet. I grabbed my beer from the table and gathered my things with my back to him.

"Theo?"

With a glance over my shoulder, I hummed in response.

"I know it's not my place, but—" Noah stopped short. I turned around curiously. "When I was deep in my addiction, I really fucked up some things with people that cared about me. And I can never take them back."

I toyed with my phone in my hands, staring at his face, riddled with guilt. "Yeah?"

"I guess I just . . . I never had the chance to make things right and I don't think I ever will. You kind of do, since shit hasn't completely hit the fan for you. Just . . . if you really want to make things right, you're gonna have to try harder. I'm sorry if this is coming off as intrusive."

"You're not intrusive," I said all too fast. "I appreciate you looking out for me. I'll definitely try harder, okay?"

He nodded and offered me a small smile. We didn't say another word on the matter as we made our way back to the bus. I thought about what he said as I took a short shower, feeling all sorts of rumbles in my belly at the thought of what Noah might have done when he was at his lowest. I wondered if he resented me for the way we lost touch. Or if maybe he blamed himself. I shook off the thoughts.

I had to focus on now. On mending what had shattered between us. That was most important at this point in time.

But as it turned out, I had to try harder.