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Finally, I spot Shawn over by Gavin and my mom. Phoebe’s there too now, I see, and she’s rolling her eyes, gesturing at Shawn as Mom nods along, brows arched.
How he managed to sneak his way over there, while avoiding the masses, I have no fucking idea.
But then again, these people know us—they know how he is. They’re not some random fans at a show, who think that just because they paid for a ticket, they’re entitled to shake hands, or god forbid, hug him. They’re not strangers who take his aloofness as a personal offense.
This is just who he is, and for the most part, it’s common knowledge around here at this point to give him a wide berth. Even the girls who try so desperately to get his attention know better than to actually violate his space.
Twisting to my left, I find Waylon exactly where he was last I saw him—wrapped in Will’s arms. Now, though, he’s got his face buried in Will’s neck, and it looks like Will’s saying something in his ear.
You couldn’t even squeeze a piece of paper between their chests, they’re that fucking close.
Again, I find myself searching the crowd, looking for a familiar shock of white.
He’s here.
I know he’s here.
Or at least…he was.
His last Snapchat to me from two hours ago showed a picture of the O’Leary’s sign out front, lit up green against the night, lending no doubt as to where he was tonight.
And in return, I’d responded just over a half hour ago with a picture of the Welcome to Pennsylvania sign, telling him without words we were on our way home.
Fuck, did I scare him off?
I shake my head. No, no, that can’t be.
He knew our tour ended tonight…that we’d be coming home…
Maybe he didn’t know I’d be back tonight…
But then why send me a pic of the bar of all things, and of all times, given what’s going on now?
The bar I not only half-own, but live above…
Growing more impatient by the second, I force a smile, and nod my thanks to the people still chattering away and calling for my attention.
As grateful as I am for it, now that I’m here…so fucking close to him…
Come on, come on.
It’s been almost ten fucking months. The longest I’ve ever gone without seeing him. Hell, the longest we’ve ever gone without speaking.
After we spent a weekend in Philly last June for Pride, he never came back to Shiloh before going off to Europe. And, despite how painful it was….I sucked it up. Even when Waylon, Will, Ivy, and Jeremy’s parents went to say their goodbyes before he left….
I stayed back, because I know that’s what he wanted.
And I’ve respected that wish for space since.
No calls.
No texts.
No video-calls.
There’s only been one exception: Snapchat.
What I figured would be a one-off following that weekend, turned into a sort of tit-for-tat way of keeping in touch by way of the bare minimum.
