Page 109 of Just My Type of wrong guy

We arrive at the third floor, where the Skylift is. It’s an open-air platform with a three hundred sixty-degree view of the entire city through panoramic windows that give the sensation of floating above the city, seeing everything from the best angle at the highest point.

“I had no idea it could get better! My God.” Alexandra walks back and forth, trying to see as much as possible.

“Come here, let me show you a few things.” She doesn’t think twice, just comes up and stops in front of me. “That’s the Empire State. There’s the Hudson.” I point to the huge river that flows in front of our house. “And that over there…” I point to the green expanse, but she turns to me, with a huge smile on her face.

“It’s Central Park,” she says with the voice of someone saying, “Where we haven’t been yet.” “I’m getting repetitive, but it’s beautiful!”

“It really is. I’m so glad you like it.”

“Like it?” Alexandra pulls her hands from her coat pockets and places them around my neck. “I loved it, A.J. Thank you, really.” She pulls away as if hugging me made her feel awkward now. “You have no idea how important this is to me.”

“Maybe I do…” I joke, but the girl in front of me, emotional, has no idea why. “Promise me something?” I ask, and Alexandra raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to finish. “Can we never be weird with each other again?”

I raise my pinky finger, and her face lights up.

“You have my word!” Alexandra smiles and kisses my finger before letting go of it. “And let’s watch two movies when we get home in honor of the good old days,” she half-promises, half-proposes, as if she isn’t talking about just two weeks ago.

With the friendship pact restored, Alexandra leaves me and continues walking around the platform, smiling and with her eyes glued to every detail of the city.

I feel like going to her. Wrapping her in my arms and never letting go. Being her human shield against the cold wind and everything else that ever hurt her. But I know that’s impossible.

So, I focus on the here and now, where I might not remember everything that happened that fateful night, but I remember every single thing she and her mom had on their impossible dream list. And maybe I can’t make this girl fly, but at least I can give her the most beautiful sunset in the city.

The platform starts descending again, and Alexandra comes up to me, stopping at my side. Without saying anything, she rests her head on my arm. I kiss her hair impulsively, andAlexandra looks at me, squinting, but then returns her head to rest there, making me laugh.

“This is an interesting little relationship you and I have,” I say when we head back down.

“It’s my favorite relationship,” she throws the words at me like a hammer, leaving me with my jaw dropped and my heart racing.

***

Talking with Alexandra yesterday was essential. I was already ready to play the “we have a show tomorrow, we can’t be fighting” card, but it wasn’t necessary. One moment, we were at home, me on the couch and her in the hallway, like an abyss separated us, and the next, it was just the two of us again, at the top of the world, almost literally.

So, I don’t exactly understand what kind of nervousness makes her mess up the first chorus of “Maybe,” nor do I know how I mess up the keys for the melody we’ve been playing for the last six months. But we laugh together while the audience sings, unaware of the mess we’re making.

Alex tosses her hair back, revealing the neckline of her playsuit, lit only by the thousands of lights pointed at us in that exact moment. My gaze drops to the curve between her breasts, and she notices. Jaw slightly dropped, Alexandra shakes her head in silent disapproval. When I look back up, she blinks and gives me a soft smile and that’s when I realize:

There’s nothing wrong. We’re just happy to be us again.

Her fingers rest over mine on the keys, a quiet agreement to let the crowd carry this part. And when the chorus comes back around, we share a look. No need for words, it’s time. We sing together, eyes locked, and the audience carries us, not missing a beat.

At the end of the song, she lifts her chin, and I understand immediately it’s my cue. I lower my forehead to hers to close our set. But in that moment, the most captivating girl I’ve ever known smiles at me, her eyes filled with pure joy, while the crowd screams around us like thunder.

And as I rest my forehead against hers, I know:

There’s no chance anyone else will be this close to me tonight.

@ViciousBondsUpdates

Vicious Bonds returned to the stage just a few weeks ago, promising to finish, at home, what became a global phenomenon. However, one striking element of this tour – and of the band – didn’t step foot on U.S. soil.

On Friday night, A.J. Fortin – our big hunk – announced that he wouldn’t be kissing any fans in One Last Kiss. He said he was feeling sick and preferred not to risk passing anything to his Vagabonders.

The first reaction on Twitter was pure adoration. After all, this kind of care surpassed one of the most iconic moments of the show. But, when he repeated the same statement for the next two days after singing and jumping without pause, suspicions started to arise.

Has he simply grown tired of kissing fans? And if so, what would be the reason? Or better yet... who?

For months, all the bets are on one name – who, by the way, now shares the same zip code with him.

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