He glowers at me. “Stop bullshitting us, Xavi. Everyone knows you two had a thing.”
Time stops. “A thing?”
“Fucking? Boyfriends? I don’t know what the fuck it was!” He throws his hands in the air, his face turning red with anger.
I swing at him, but he ducks and points a warning finger at me.
“It was nothing!” I bellow. “Fucking nothing because of me!”
His brows furl together. “What do you mean?”
My shoulders slump. “He wanted to be more, and I let him down. I wasn’t ready. Maybe if I’d been ready…”
Owen pounces on me, but not to hit me. I’m crushed in a brotherly hug. “Lex had fucking issues, man. You hear me? That was on him. He loved you, and you loved him. If he hadn’t been fucked over his need for heroin, he’d have waited until you got there. Everyone knows this.”
Everyone but me, apparently.
“I think I’m gay,” I whisper, finally allowing it to break free. “I was with Blaine.”
“I know, man. I know.” He doesn’t release me. “Why are you so scared to be happy?”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Because it should have been with him.”
“But it wasn’t,” he says softly. “You can still be happy with someone else.”
“What about the band? Our image. You…” I trail off.
“You think I care about who you fuck? I just want you to smile once in a fucking while and mean it. I want you to crank out songs like the ones you wrote while at the cabin. I want my friend back—the guy who’s been missing since my brother died.”
“But people see Berlin Scandal and they see four guys who like to fuck girls.”
He shakes his head as he pulls away. “No, dumbass. They see Berlin Scandal as the best rock band since Nirvana. What they hear is even more important. Soul in songs. Feelings and depth and a rawness you don’t get from regular, mainstream shit. They hear our hearts bleeding because we all went through some fucked up shit—and our fans can relate to that, brother. Not who’s hole we stick our dicks in. We’re more than our sexual orientation. Jesus.”
“I thought maybe you didn’t like me and Lex being together because it was fucking with our fanbase…” It sounds pretty stupid, but it’s true.
“I didn’t like the idea of my druggie brother bringing down the lead singer of my band. Lex needed help, not a partner in crime. I was concerned when it came to his using. And with how close you two were, I worried with time you’d be using like him too.”
Having Owen’s acceptance is a huge relief. I didn’t realize the agonizing weight crushing me until it’d been lifted.
“It’s going to be a scandal when it gets out,” I warn. “I can’t do that to you guys.”
“Fuck them,” he growls. “Besides, that song is fucking amazing. They’ll be more addicted to the new stuff than the fact that you like to suck dick.”
I give him a playful shove. “Shut up, asshole.”
His smile is crooked and boyish, reminding me of when we were just a couple kids with an idea to start a garage band. “My lips are sealed. I won’t say anything until you’re ready to tell people.” His brow lifts. “So the cop, huh? Did he handcuff you to the bed?”
If only Blaine were that simple…
“Something like that,” I admit, a smile tugging at my lips. But as soon as it breaches my face, it falls. “I think we’re done.”
“Hence the shitty attitude,” he says. “And why are you suddenly done?”
My nostrils flare. I don’t want to tell him, but it’s Owen. “He won’t fuck me.”
“Maybe he likes taking it up the ass instead,” he offers, waggling his eyebrows at me.
“No,” I say with a frown. “I think I’m too much for him.”
Owen scowls. “Bullshit. You’re Xavi fucking Jacobs. Of course you’re too much, but that’s what makes you so fucking cool. His dick is broken if he doesn’t want you.”
I laugh. It feels weird talking about this shit with him, but freeing too. “I thought he wanted me. We did all kinds of kinky shit, but then it was time to come back home. I just…I don’t know. He tried texting me, but I haven’t replied.”
Owen’s hand grips my shoulder. “Did you talk to him or did you blow everything up to epic proportions like usual inside that fucking crazy head of yours?”
I flip him off.
“That’s what I thought,” he says. “After the show, call him. Take him on a fucking date or whatever the fuck. Just talk to him. Maybe it’s you being a fucking freak like usual.”
My heart stammers. “You think?”
“At least then you’ll know. And if he’s an asshole who doesn’t want you, that’s his loss. There’s probably a world of hot gay dudes who would fall at your fucking feet the moment you tell everyone. You may bat for the opposite team, but I can guarantee you’ll have a whole team show up with their bats ready to play.”