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Caleb’s grip on me tightened, but he didn’t say anything.
“I think I didn’t get before how much I hated it, because I didn’t get why I did it to begin with, but then I was remembering, on the flight home. Remembering how bad I wanted to prove to my parents that I could be successful and wanted. And then, before I knew it, we were! And I didn’t even know what it would be. I never imagined what my life would be like. By that time, anyway, it was inertia. You get to be a certain level of famous and then the only thing to do next is for people to try and make you the next level of famous. And I just let it keep going, because…that’s what people did. Only I hate it because it’s not even about music anymore. The one part of it I love, and now the band doesn’t even want that from me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I played them a new song and they didn’t want it for Riven.” I shook my head. “But that’s the thing, see? That’s fine. They’re right. It wasn’t a song for Riven, just like I could tell that your songs weren’t for Rhys. Those songs were for you, and these songs are for me.”
I let out a bark of laughter because it was so simple and so clear now, that it was like going back and watching a movie once you know what the twist is. I could see everything that had happened, and how I’d gotten to this point through a different lens.
“I don’t want the fame, I just want the music. I know you understand that,” I said, and the look in Caleb’s eyes told me he did. “I love writing songs, I love performing, but I fuckin’ hate the rest, man. And I don’t need it anymore. I don’t need the world to love me and I don’t need my parents to love me. I just need you to love me. Because I love you.”
Shock and desire warred on Caleb’s face. Also fear. A lot of fear. But I pushed on because I had to make this a reality. I had to get it all out.
“I love you so much, Caleb, and–and–and I want to quit the fucking band and I never would’ve seen that I could do that without you. I never would’ve realized that it was an option without you telling me all the time how I didn’t need to take any of the industry’s shit, or play by their rules. And I never could’ve totally admitted that I want to leave Coco and Ven and Ethan if you didn’t show me how it feels to have someone who actually cares about me.”
I was breathing hard, so overwhelmed and excited and on edge that I could hardly see straight.
“You helped me make this all possible,” I said, my voice softer now. “Do you see?” I leaned down to kiss him because, fuck, I needed him, but he pulled back. His mouth was open and his eyes were wild and he scooted out from underneath me and stood, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head.
“Theo,” he said, voice a dark croak. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re tired and stressed—I know how it is right after a tour. You’ve gotta be so wiped. I—don’t make a decision this big like this. Do you wanna go to bed? Here, why don’t you go sleep, and I’ll—”
“Stop it! Don’t fucking patronize me, like I don’t know what I want.”
I stood up and reached for him, hoping he’d say he was joking, or being strangely overprotective, but he backed away from me. He looked so uncomfortable that I started to freak out. How could he not see the immense gift he had given me by showing me that I had freedom? That I had autonomy. That I had choice.
“Caleb, what the fuck?”
“I just don’t want you to make this huge decision just because we’re…you know. I never meant you should give up the band.”
“We’re ‘you know’? That’s…I…what?”
I was losing the thread of the conversation, but my mind was bouncing back and forth between two things. First, that Caleb’s eyes were wide with panic and they had been ever since I’d said I love you. Second, that he apparently didn’t think much of me at all, if he thought this was some childish caprice born of needing a nap.
“All I meant was you should take some time and talk this over with the band.”
“I’m talking it over with you. At least I’m trying to. I’m— I want this, Caleb. I want to be able to walk around with you, like we did in New Orleans, and not have to worry that it’ll end up in the tabloids. I want to have a life that’s about music, but also other things, not about being asked what parties I’m going to after the damn Grammys. And I want…I want you,” I told him, even though it felt like holding out a hand that had already been slapped away.
