Page 8 of Beneath Cherry Blossom Memories

His smile drops, and he pierces me with his dark blue eyes. “No.”

“Then why do you look fucked up?”

“I’m not.” He goes to walk away from me, but I lunge forward and grab his wrist. “Damn it, Phoenix, leave it be. I’m trying to enjoy the wedding.”

“So am I. But you can’t say stuff like that. Not the time or place.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, but it’s not a real apology. Something is wrong.

Easing my grip on him, I step into his bubble and search his face. “Talk to me.”

“We don’t do that.”

“I know. But I can’t feel you right now.” He’s shut off, and the way he’s looking at me has my stomach flipping—not in a good way. I’m freaking out—probably over nothing—and slide my palm over his cheek. “Did my dad say something?”

Instead of answering me, he kisses me roughly. His lips taste sour, not right. I reel back. “Please,” he says softly and goes for my mouth again.

I should’ve known then something was coming. I should’ve seen the signs. Pulling myself back to the present, I head back to where my bandmates are waiting. It’s hard to turn off my head once it latches onto an idea or feeling. I’m in a freefall, wondering how I could’ve been so blind—so stupid. I feel sick, and I don’t know why. It's like the time I ate bad shrimp and knew eventually I’d hurl, but not when. That’s the feeling.

I’m nearing the end of the long, empty hall when the sensation of being watched comes again.

The hairs on my neck shoot up, my arms bubble with goosebumps. I stop walking and glance at the doors. They’re all closed. Only the soft hum of music too loud to be contained hits my ears. Maybe I’m dehydrated or paranoid. No one has outright said so, but I know Eli is here. He’s in this city, staying at the hotel Headhunter booked for the night. We sleep on the bus mostly because we aren’t that financially well off.

Is he in this building? In thishall? I swallow hard and leave with speed.

Leon Persson is a talented drummer.

I think it’s like a rule that people from Sweden are just phenomenal at music. Some of my favorite bands are from there. Like Orbit Culture, God, those guys are amazing. I might even look up to Leon if it was under any other circumstance. We’re standing outside the bus, just finishing packing the last of our gear, when Headhunter comes out. Their trailer with all their gear is at the hotel already, seeing as they have roadies to help out. It’s just us and a handful of local fans we agreed to let help on certain shows.

I watch him talk to his bandmates, utterly clueless about what he’s saying because it’s in Swedish. The way his mouth moves isn’t all that fascinating, but it’s the confidence of his posture. It’s the glint of happiness in his eyes.

Physically speaking, he’s a normal-looking dude. Shorter brown hair, brown eyes, and a stocky build. He might be a good cuddler. Maybe he’s the kind of person you talk to, open up ‘n shit.

There’s absolutely no good reason that I’m analyzing him so hard. I’m simply jealous, and that’s all there is to it. I never used to be until Eli. My first boyfriend, Luke, was a massive flirt in high school. In ways, he reminded me of Jorge, but…you know…gay. I can’t say I was ever in love with Luke, but I liked him a great deal. All that messy shit you go through as a teenager, I went through with him. It didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would when I found out he was cheating on me. I chalked it up to him wanting someone more chatty.

That’s fine.

But with Eli? I discovered the meaning of jealousy with a severity I’m sure is certifiable. And him being a pornstar did not make it any easier. For a while, I stewed in silence. Every time I saw a new video with a new collaborator, I went and got tested instead of telling Eli that it bothered me. Whenever he wanted to try something new, I never said that I didn’t want him to record it with someone else.

It was…toxic.

I kept all those horrible feelings inside until, one day, I fucking lost it.

I think Helios still has PTSD from that night. He hates yelling.

To my surprise, though, Eli didn’t get angry with my outburst. Instead, he fucked me until I wasn’t angry anymore. Then, he’d peppered me with sweet, gentle kisses and said he’d do solo stuff from that point forward. I fell harder after that night. And my jealousy got worse, too.

I knew people got off watching him. I knew he liked the attention and the money that came from theirmanyperverted orgasms. I mean, fuck, I was one of them until we met. But again, I kept my mouth shut.

So, yeah, I’mveryjealous of Leon fucking Persson.

He sees me glaring at him and offers a friendly smile. Before everything went down a year ago, no one knew Eli was dating me besides my family and band. There is no way in hell that Leon doesn’t know about us now. What happened even hit mainstream media, which usually wouldn’t give a flying fuck about two gay guys getting in some shit. So why is Leon smiling? Why is he walking over—

Oh, God, he’s coming.

“Fuuuck,” Kelly says beside me, grabbing my shoulder in support before dashing inside the bus.

Jorge sees this and throws his arm around me. “I got you,” he whispers.

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