“Holy shit,” the boy breathed. “Holy shit!”

I pivoted on my heel to flee, but a second guy framed the doorway.

“Cass,” Alex said, in a strange voice. He breathed it, like he had been afraid that I was lost and that he was relieved I’d returned safe. The soft tenderness made my eyes water. How could I have been blindsided by the glitz and glamour when Alex was more genuine than anyone I’d ever known?

I was out in the hallway, one with many doors lined up on either side, all of them opening and closing, people walking behind me on their way around the building. I felt vulnerable, even with my hoodie rendering me anonymous from the sides and back. “Could I come in?” I whispered, clutching an elbow with my other arm self-consciously.

He took one hand off the doorframe, making an opening, but I found myself walking into him and wrapping my arms around his middle. He wrapped his arms back, giving me a bear hug. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I whispered, tears coming again.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said, soothing my back. We held each other like this for a few long moments before I remembered the other guy. I wiped at my face with the sleeve of my hoodie and discovered him sitting on his hands in a computer chair, his eyes as wide as saucers.

“Cass, this is Joseph, my roommate. Joe, my girlfriend, Cassidy.”

“Hi,” I said, extending my hand, before realizing that I had probably snotted on it. A self-conscious laugh bubbled out of my chest. He grabbed it anyway.

“Hi there.” Joe was grinning. “Oh man. We all knew that Alex has a girlfriend but he didn’t say her name, ever. I can’t believe this!”

To Alex, I said, “You didn’t tell people about me?”

He scoffed a little. “Are you kidding? No one would believe me. They’d think I was making it up.”

“But we have all those pictures from high school, and . . .” I trailed off. Pictures when I was ten sizes bigger. Pictures when I had crappy hair, pictures before my teeth whitening. All of those before pictures. I didn’t even recognize that version of me.

Alex must have sensed where my thoughts were going, or maybe he just wanted to talk to me without an audience, because he said, “Joe, do you mind stepping out for a little bit?”

Joseph seized upon this idea with gusto. “Oh, yeah. Cool.” His hand swept through stuff on his desk for his key card. “I’ll go grab a bite.” We waited a few awkward moments in silence while he laced his shoes and closed the door behind him.

“Are you hungry?” Alex asked. “I should have thought of that.”

I’d eaten a salad on the plane, chewing slowly and thoroughly on the iceberg lettuce, hoping to keep my stomach in good order. The thought of food still turned it over and I shook my head.

He sat down on his bed on his side of the room, and I sat next to him. We faced the thin aisle between his and Joseph’s beds, and I leaned into him, looking at the decor of the room. “This reminds me of the room I share with Yumi,” I said out loud. It was white, not lavender; the posters were of sexy movie stars—Joseph liked Angelina in Tomb Raider, apparently—but the setup was somewhat similar.

“I bet your room smells better,” he joked, his arm warm around me.

“I like the way you smell,” I said, burying my face in his shoulder. I was warm in my hoodie, but I felt more comfortable with it still on. A little security blanket. It was easy to talk into his shirt. “I’m a terrible person. I can’t believe I forgot to call you after the show.”

“It’s all right,” he murmured. “I was pissed but only because I was worried.”

“Did you watch it?” I was sure he had, but he shook his head.

“I only watched your performance and turned it off right after.”

“So you didn’t see . . . ?”

He understood the question. “I didn’t see it. I did hear about it.” His eyes were troubled. “I don’t know what to think now, either.”

“It was completely out of left field,” I said quickly. “I had no idea he was going to do that. And I swear, it’s the only time anything like that has happened.” I didn’t mention dancing with Stephen at the after-party. What Alex didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

He nodded distractedly. “I wondered . . . but I knew you’d tell me if something was up. Right?”

“Right. I’m not that big of an asshole and loser.”

“I don’t know, you stayed inside all winter break and baked a million cookies after you lost Sing It,” he said, cracking a smile. “Ow!” I had poked him in the side with a finger.

“My baking days are over.” I pulled back and rubbed at my eyes, which were now dry.

“Why, Cass? I liked your cookies.”

I shrugged. “Not allowed to eat them anymore.”

“That’s dumb. You can still make them for me. Ow!” I’d poked him again, but I was smiling this time.

I leaned back into his pillow, stretching out my legs. He followed suit, laying on his side to look at me. We were quiet for a minute. “You really are gorgeous,” he said.

“Oh, stop. I’m puffy and smelly. I woke up hungover and nearly puked on the plane ride back. I’m wearing the same clothes I had on in New York, so basically if you were to take off my hoodie you’d reel from the stink.”

“Is that so?” His fingers played with the edge of the sweatshirt, down by my hip. “Let me sniff.”

I gave a little squeak and crossed my arms on top of my chest. “I don’t think so.”

“Just a little one,” he said, sitting up and using more leverage to peel the corners up again, taking the edge of my T-shirt with it. My navel was exposed. I giggled and he used that as an excuse to pull the shirts up all the way to my bra line. He left me a row of kisses on my stomach, getting me relaxed enough to uncross my arms and touch his hair in response. We locked eyes.

“Are we okay?” I said.

Alex moved a little bit on the bed so our chests met. “We’re great,” he said, and his lips met mine.

15.

Saturday

Yumi

I had sent an RSVP to the couple last month, out of a combination of pleasure and obligation—it was our old tour manager’s son, and he had put us on the invite list, sending one to each of us in turn, though apparently I was the only one who mailed a positive answer back. Rose had admitted she was terrible at checking her mail, and Merry sent crystal in lieu of her presence. Cassidy, as far as I knew, hadn’t responded at all.

And she couldn’t make it now.

After we’d disbanded, Ian had moved out to San Diego. He and his ex-wife had put Jordan through private school and—judging by the tasteful and elegant decor of the wedding venue I was now stepping into—he had probably made some contribution to the couple’s wedding costs as well.

I accepted a program from an usher and stood at the back of the vast ceremony seating area as other early arrivals milled about, taking in the scenery. The ceremony was set up on a green lawn, but if the couple wanted to walk a block to the beach and take photos in the sand, it wasn’t out of the question. As it was, they would be wed under a grand archway of lavender and pastel pink flowers, standing amid a semicircle of lush palm trees, and surrounded by more green.