Page 35 of Ambiguous
“Shut up.” I blush.
Emily and I have been best friends since the first grade. We kissed in high school, which cemented for me the fact that I was gay. But she’s good for my ego, even if she’d throw me over for Julian Hill in a heartbeat.
“I’m serious.” She eyes me. “Judging by what you’ve told me, if our friend JH sees you like this, you’ll be even more inspiration for him.”
I redden, and it’s not from the heat of the day. “Maybe.”
We buy our drinks and make our way through the crowd. Now that I’m shirtless like half the men here (and some of the women), I feel like I fit in. Like I’m less buttoned-up, preppy Sam and more of a… partygoer.
The edges of this festival are loosening up—and it already was a free-for-all. While there is security and medics and all sorts of safety equipment, it’s also the most fun I’ve had in a long time.
I sip the beer, which tastes wonderful, and Em and I get tacos for dinner. I check my phone. “Jules is on in a half hour. Should we go find him?”
She puts her hands on her hips. “Like you have to ask.”
We walk by group after group of chattering teenagers wearing Julian Hill shirts, which gives me the oddest possessive feeling, likeNo, kids, he’s mine—even though he’s not—and make our way to the main stage, where we show our passes to security. Wandering around the darkened area, we try to be unobtrusive until I see a familiar face.
“Hey,” Loren says, shaking my hand. “Um, nice outfit.”
“Sorry.” I cringe, automatically flexing my stomach muscles. “My shirt got soaked, so I had to take it off.”
“No one minds seeing you like this. Just, you look different than you did in a suit.”
“No kidding.” I laugh and rub the back of my neck. Then I remember my manners and gesture to Em. “This is my best friend, Emily, who is a major fan. Em, Loren, Julian’s manager.”
“Nice to meet you.” They shake hands. Loren looks around. “Jules is getting ready. Why don’t you watch the show from the side, and when it’s over I can take you back to his dressing room?”
Emily looks like someone gave her ten years’ worth of birthday and Christmas presents at once. “Ohmygod.”
I start, “We don’t have to—”
“Yes, we do.” Emily glares at me. I hold up my palms.
She grabs my hand, and we walk over to the side of the stage, where the crew is busy checking equipment. Loren points out folding chairs we can use, and we sit, watching the show get ready onstage. Down in the pit, people start to backfill behind the diehard fans who’ve been waiting at the front all day.
The sky’s now totally dark, although portable lights on generators are set up all over the place, like streetlights.
“All these people want access to him,” Em says. “What they’d give to have him pay attention to them for five seconds.” She shoves my shoulder gently. “And you’ve been one-on-one with him.”
I have to tell her. “I danced with him,” I say in her ear.
She turns away from the activity and faces me, eyes wide. “Danced with…him?” With her head, she gestures to the backstage area where Jules is surely hanging out.
I nod. “I’m sorry I kept it from you. It was at the hotel, the night Pop-Pop declared for governor. He was there for a charity thing. We went out into the garden and talked.” I stare at my hands. “It was special.”
“Oh, Sam. He’s been my crush for a decade, but that’s just fantasy. Whatever is happening between you and him is more than okay with me. I mean, access to all this”—she waves her hands around—“is every fangirl’s dream. I never thought I’d know someone who’d actually have a chance with him. I can’t wait to see what happens next. I can’t wait to meet him. Am I really going to get to meet him?”
The thought makes my body prickle.
Just then, I hear, “Hey, Sam. You made it.” I swivel my head. Jules is standing there. My skin seems to have become aware of him even before I did.
My heart starts pounding. Fuck, he looks good—as usual. He’s wearing striped, skintight pants and a loose black shirt with ruffles. He has jewelry piled on, and his hair is an artful mess.
I stand up, but don’t know whether I should shake his hand or hug him—probably not that, given that I reek of beer—so I settle for wringing my hands and waving.
He eyes me up and down. While I should feel self-conscious that I’m basically only wearing shorts and a hat, I don’t.Thank you, plank pose. He gives me a smile and turns to Emily. “Hi—Emily, is it? How are you?”
I glance over at my bestie to see the color has drained from her face.
