Second to None, page 5
He considered me for a heavy, heart-wrenching beat. “What makes you think you still hold that kind of power over me?”
And once more, with feeling—ouch. I pressed my tongue flat against the roof of my mouth, held my breath for two, three, four, and exhaled. “You’ll take anything I say and twist it into its worst possible interpretation, won’t you?”
Something moved behind his eyes. “Can you blame me?”
Not even a little.
“No.” I leaned forward to touch his arm and thought better of it, hand dropping back into my lap. Brightness flashed on the edge of my vision—reflected sunlight that glinted off a nearby boat. “I know I fucked up, and I’m sorry. You were just… much braver than me.”
“Or maybe I was so in love with you that everything else paled in comparison.” There was no softness to his statement, gaze level as it held mine. I was first to drop my eyes.
Past tense. Of course—we barely knew each other anymore, even if my stupid heart shrank away from this truth that I’d set into motion.
“I was in love with you, too.” It wasn’t a revelation or anything—we’d said it back then, words shaped against skin, squeezed into the gaps between open-mouthed kisses. But out here in the open, it felt like a plunge into uncharted waters.
He blew out a harsh breath. “Just not quite enough, huh?”
Enough to scare me shitless. Enough that I don’t think there’ll be anyone else, ever.
“You’re wrong,” I said, quiet yet firm.
He appeared poised to argue when our gazes caught again. This time, I fought the temptation to look away, and whatever he found eased the sharp lines of his forehead. Waves washed against the boat hull, the others’ laughing voices drifting up from the deck below, a counterpoint to the layered silence that spun out between us.
Levi glanced down, something delicate about his torso framed against the cloudless, indifferent sky. “Maybe I shouldn’t have backed you into a corner.”
Oh.
I shoved a hand through my hair, curls tangled by the salty breeze. “You were tired. You were so fucking tired of it all. I think you were looking for a way out, and you needed to know where I stood.”
“Yeah.” He rolled his bottom lip between his teeth and released it again, voice slow and deliberate. “But that didn’t make it fair, did it? Asking you to choose. Forcing your hand like that.”
“I should have chosen you.” It came out rough, the words scraping against the back of my throat. In my mind, I’d said them so many times, but putting them out in the open like this, for Levi to hear and weigh—God, it scared me.
Something in his expression gave way, like the aftermath of a wave’s collapse, its hard crest dissolving into foamy whitewash. A softening, no longer resisting the quiet pull of the tide. “We were just really young,” he murmured. “Weren’t we?”
“You think we wouldn’t have lasted?” The idea tasted strange on my tongue, new and unfamiliar. I had fucked us up. It had never occurred to me to wonder what else could have.
“I don’t know.” One corner of his mouth quirked up, wry. “It would have been all eyes on us. Paps, interviews, the works. Not like I handled it well when it was the five of us, and just us two at the center of a publicity storm… It would have been next level. Although I might have done better that way, being myself rather than The Funny One.”
I shook my head. “Levi…”
“Who knows, huh?” He raised a hand, palm open, in some version of a shrug. “Or we’d have made it, only for reality to kick in. We would have lost some fans, most likely. Our next album might have done just okay. And maybe you’d have blamed me for that.”
I wanted to dismiss it and couldn’t. Levi was right—losing fans would have bothered me. Their adoration had been my crutch, an external source of confidence I’d lacked.
“We might have lasted, though,” I said softly.
“Maybe, yeah.” He sounded unconvinced, like he was humoring me rather than believed we’d truly stood a chance. Because he’d realized there was a better fit for him? Another love, a real grownup—not some lost little boy too scared to hold his hand where people might see.
Have dinner with me?
The question shriveled in my chest, crumbling like a plucked flower left without water. He might say no. He probably would. If his heart was already taken… Although the way Mason had acted, I’d thought maybe not. But even if it wasn’t, why would Levi believe that this time would be different?
I needed to show him.
Steps on the teakwood stairs burst our two-person bubble. A moment later, a crew member appeared to offer us drinks, snacks, anything that might make our stay on board more pleasant. No, thank you.
“Time to rejoin the others?” Levi asked, and perhaps it was for the better, so I nodded.
He was here for a week. I would do my damned hardest to make it count.
CHAPTER 5
Levi
Marina 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?”
