“It’s seguro.” I can’t help but laugh, too.
“Ezzzpaña! Olé! Tapazzz.”
“That’s not… Ugh. I’m killing you.” I chuckle. His next puff of laughter is met with a pillow to the face. I flop down on the mattress, staring at the shadows dancing on the ceiling. “Do you ever feel… I don’t know, like even if you were to move to Brazil, you wouldn’t fully fit in now? Not like your cousins who were born there do.”
Maybe I’m just projecting my own feelings onto him. Kai has extended family. He has roots. I don’t, just Mamá and her friends.
“Hmmm. Tô com saudade do Brasil.” Kai purses his lips, switching to Portuguese, then he’s silent for a second. “I mean, I miss spending the summers there. There was a part of me that felt at home. I like being surrounded by family. Being an only child, I never got that in LA.” He falls back on the mattress next to me and sighs. “Sometimes I have this dream, that suddenly I wake up and I can’t speak Portuguese anymore, only English. When I was little, I thought I was going to get left behind if I couldn’t speak well enough. Like I had to prove myself somehow, you know? I remember being so happy when people assumed I was a local. I’m fluent now, but it still worries me… losing this part of myselfand my identity.” Before I can reply, or tell him what Rosa shared with me, he turns toward me and grins. “Let’s do that, though, sometime. I’ll take you to meet my family. And in return you can show me around Spain.” Kai stares at the ceiling, like he’s actually considering it. “I don’t know how we’ll afford all these trips, but well, with your music and my art, we’ll manage.”
A tinge of surprise travels through me. “You’ve decided to give your art a try?”
“Maybe.” He hums with his eyes closed. “I’m thinking of posting my art anonymously, so no one will know who I am. If it does well, it was meant to be. But I don’t want your help. I need to know that my art is good enough to stand on its own. Just like your music.”
My music is only popular because everyone thinks it’s about you, I almost say.
He’s one of the few people who like my music for what it is, not what it pretends to be.
“Deal.” I hold out my pinky for his. A promise—a stupid one. “Friends who pretend to date for life.”
“Friends who pretend to date for life.”
CHAPTER 14
By the time we officially wrap up filmingFridaythree weeks later—it went longer than scheduled—I’m so exhausted I can hardly speak. Being on set means having to be Sassy twelve hours a day, five days a week nonstop.
My thoughts have become a jumbled mess, like there’s a puzzle between them and my tongue that I have to solve every time I want to put them into words. I feel like I’m running a marathon in my brain, so I pretend to be on vocal rest to get some time to reset.
Kai knows it’s best to leave me alone to recharge, so I spend our last few days in London cocooned in my hotel room while he hangs out with Asher.
Then, on our last day, Asher insists on taking us to the London Eye, a giant architectural Ferris wheel that overlooks the city. It’s weird thinking I won’t get to see him every day. I’ve grown so used to being around him that it feels natural. These past weeks, the layers of his personality have been peeling back to finally show the real Asher, or a glimpse ofhim. He pretends to be this mysterious, dreamy heartthrob in front of the press, and cocky and manipulative around those in the industry, like they’re these different masks he wears to protect himself. But therealAsher is a nerdy, surprisingly clumsy, slightly shy guy whose idea of a wild night is crocheting clothes for Muse.
“Come on. Hurry up! I saved the best for last,” Asher urges. He grins, steering us toward the London Eye. We are ushered into a closed pod with enough room for each of us to stand in a different corner. My sunglasses stay on as we start ascending, since the world has decided to become too bright for my brain to handle today.
Christmas lights decorate the streets in the distance, and snow dances in the air, bathing the sky in an ethereal glow. I sit on the floor and press my hand against the smooth glass, feeling the cold seep through my fingers. I take out Tito from my backpack—he’s now wearing a little sweater Asher made for him—and spend a few moments snapping pictures of him with Westminster Bridge in the background, spanning the river like an artery.
“Are we swaying?” Kai tightens his grip on the railing, staring at the people on the ground, growing tinier and tinier. “The other pods aren’t swaying.”
“Afraid of heights, I see,” Asher says, scooting closer to him.
“Me, nah,” Kai scoffs, but his hand remains steady on the railing. “I’m okay with heights.”
I share a look with Asher.
He’s afraid of some heights, but not roller coasters for some reason?I text him.Or bouldering.
“I’m not afraid of heights.” Kai shoots us a glare, catching a glimpse of the text exchange. “I’m just afraid ofunsafeheights. This feels like one.” Asher stifles a puff of laughter behind his fist. “At least I’m not afraid of sheep and didn’t almost fall into a mud puddle when I saw one.”
“It wanted to bite me! You guys saw it,” Asher grunts.
Last weekend Asher took us to a small town where he spent part of his childhood. Asher owns an estate in the area surrounded by greenery that his family restored. He insisted that one of the sheep living in the fields nearby is out to murder him. Kai convinced him that the sheep is probably the reincarnation of the person who built the property, and Asher got paranoid.
“I used to be afraid of heights, too, you know,” Asher says.
“Really?” Kai raises an eyebrow. “How did you get over it?”
“I went skydiving.”
“Of course you did.” Kai rolls his eyes.
