"Then he's not the one," she said.
Adriel's head snapped up. "Jenna…"
"No." She held up a hand, cutting him off before he could argue. "Listen to me. You know I'm right. You always do this, Adriel. You always shrink yourself, make yourself into some caricature of yourself in order to fit what other people expect you to be. You bend and you fold and you cut pieces off until you fit into whatever box they've built, and then when it still doesn't work you blame yourself for not fitting. You need to stop." Her voice didn't waver. "You need to realize that you are enough, justas you are, and if someone does not like it, then that's their problem. Not yours."
He didn't respond right away. His eyes were burning. He blinked hard, jaw tight.
"I don't know how to do that," he said finally, voice rough.
"I know," Jenna said. "But you're going to learn. And I'm going to be annoying about it until you do."
A wet laugh escaped him; small, surprised, and shaky. She bumped his shoulder with hers and he bumped back, and for a moment they just sat there, the way they had since they were children.
Jenna stood eventually. Straightened his jacket one more time. Stepped back and looked at him.
"You look good," she said. "Really good. Go to this thing, have a drink, and when you're ready; talk to him. Tell him what you need. And if he's worth a damn, he'll listen."
∞∞∞
The venue was exactly what Adriel had expected and dreaded. He'd seen photos of it online when he'd looked it up three days ago, unable to stop himself. It was worse in person.
High ceilings, crystal chandeliers, walls paneled in something that probably cost more than his annual salary. Bright lights bounced off polished surfaces, making everything gleam.
Adriel stood just inside the entrance and fought the urge to turn around and walk back out. Instead, he handed his coat to the attendant. Forced himself forward.
The room opened up around him, swallowing him into its current. People everywhere; editors he recognized, authors he'd only seen in headshots, agents and publicists. He smiled at a few faces, nodded at others, kept moving toward the bar because moving was better than standing still and the bar was somewhere to go.
He ordered champagne. Then he scanned the room before he could stop himself.
It was instinct by now. He'd developed it over the past months, this automatic searching whenever he entered a space where Landen might be. His eyes moved across the crowd, past clusters of people in conversation, the waiters circulating with trays, the small stage at the far end where the author would eventually speak.
He found Landen almost immediately.
He stood near one of the tall windows at the far side of the room, the city glittering darkly behind him. He was in a dark suit; charcoal, perfectly cut. His jacket was open, his posture relaxed, one hand in his pocket. He was mid-conversation with someone, head slightly tilted.
He looked devastating. Composed. Elegant. Every line of him sharp and intentional. The kind of beautiful that stopped conversation when he entered a room, that made people turn and look and then pretend they hadn't.
The real smile was on his face. The one that changed everything, that softened the sharp edges, that Adriel had learned meantLanden was genuinely engaged. It was directed at whoever he was speaking with.
Adriel looked away.
Looked back.
Looked away again. His fingers tightened on the champagne glass.
He thought about the promise Landen had made that morning. They'd been in bed, still half-asleep, Landen's arm heavy across his waist and his mouth pressed to the back of Adriel's neck.
Come over after,he'd murmured, low and warm.I want you in my bed tonight.
The thought steadied him. Briefly. A small anchor in the middle of all this glittering chaos.
Then Landen shifted. Stepped slightly to the side, adjusting his weight, and the person he'd been speaking to became fully visible.
The world narrowed to a single point.
Zach.
Adriel's breath left him all at once.
