Page 86 of If This Gets Out
Geoff
“Okay, Zach, go.”
The chorus of “Yours, Mine, Ours” starts, and I dance, as hard as I can go.
Don’t think about it. But as hard as I push myself, the thoughts come back. I’m getting credit, but the song is in no way mine. It’s Galactic’s song, but it will have my name on it, and now everyone out there is going to think that I wrote “End of Everything”—a sappy, slow ballad, nothing even remotely like the kind of music I enjoy listening to or writing.
Songwriting wasmything. And it feels like it’s been wrenched away from me, just like my appearance and singing style has. The whole thing is moving too fast to stop. We’re recording it tomorrow.
Stop. Thinking. About it.
I hit each of my movements on time, harder and faster than I usually dance. Turns out, frustration is one hell of a motivator. I finish off with a body roll, the last move of the routine. I’m done now, and panting to catch my breath.
“Perfect!” says Val, giving me a high-five. “Dude, that was absolutely perfect.”
I rest my hands on my hips and try to get in some much-needed air. “Really?”
“If you do that onstage you could cause a riot.”
I grin.
I retrieve my water bottle. Maybe I’m overreacting aboutthe song. It’s just one track, and who knows, it might be the start of something. Geoff did say they want to get me more involved on the lyric side of things. It’s a foot in the door.
Val calls “Be right back!” and walks out, leaving me totally alone.
The room goes quiet. I use my tank to mop some of the sweat off my face, and then I check my phone. Oh shit, we went over by ten minutes. I must’ve kept the others waiting.
I’ve got a new message from Ruben.
Hey hey, how’s it going?
Great! We just finished and Val said I was perfect!!
I haven’t told him about the email yet. I haven’t found the right time. I hear the door open, stopping me mid-response.
Ruben and Angel walk in. Ruben is dressed in a football jersey that shows off his arms, black workout pants, and squeaky-clean Nikes. The world stops.
He should only wear this.
“Hey,” he says, doing a cute little wave and tilting his head up.
I want to jog up to him, pick him up, and kiss him. I don’t know if there are cameras in this room, so I don’t. It’s tough, though, because Ruben in workout clothes… damn. Just, damn. I don’t know how he keeps getting sexier to me, but he keeps finding a way. Seriously, when did his arms start looking like that? When did he start being able to make me feel like this?
We make eye contact, and his eyes sparkle. I want to press him up against that mirror and feel him run his hands down my back. I want him to whisper my name. I don’t care thatanyone could see us, because I know with everything I have that it’d be worth it. Screw the world. Screw everyone but Ruben.
Or, maybe screw Ruben. If he wanted that.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks. He chews his bottom lip, like he knows I’m thinking about screwing.
I scrub the back of my head. Keep it together, man.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing, huh?”
My chest tightens, making it hard to breathe. Does he even know how much him looking at me makes me feel? Does he even know how bad I have it for him?
I catch Angel rolling his eyes. “You two really need to learn the meaning of ‘secret relationship.’”
