Code red, p.20
Code Red, page 20
Blake studied me for a bit. “Do Amber and Ryan know?”
I shrugged. “I haven’t told them, but if they know or assume, I can only guess. I think Amber suspects something.” God, just saying that out loud to them made me feel like shit. “I’ll tell them.”
“Roscoe,” Maddox began.
“I can’t ask these guys to lie to their managers or ask them to cover for me.” This was going to end badly, I just knew it. “I’ll tell them today.”
“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled. He ran his hand through his hair and his gaze fell on me. “Now I know why you didn’t want to tell anyone.” He pulled at his shirt collar, fanning it for air.
“That’s not fair,” Wes said.
“Fair?” Maddox stared at him. “What’s not fair is this thing”—he waved between himself and me—“is barely a few weeks old. We don’t even know what to call it, if we can call it anything, I don’t fucking know, yet we need to declare it to the whole fucking management team like it’s some financial transaction. We’re not getting married. We’re not initiating peace talks with North Korea. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“No,” Luke said. “But the way this company is run is a big deal. The rules, the contracts, they’re a big deal, Maddox. Now, I’m not against you two, honestly. You know I like Roscoe. He’s a part of the Atrous family. And it’s good to see you happy. I mean that. But things could get really complicated, really fast, if things get ugly. And that fallout will affect us all.”
Maddox shook his head, his jaw bulged. “We won’t let that happen.”
“You say that now,” Blake said. “But things get complicated, Madz.”
Maddox stood up. “You know what’s funny? Is that you all think I’m asking permission. Well, I’m not. But believe me, when one of you finally finds someone you want to bring into the ‘Atrous family’”—he used finger quotes—“I’ll remember this conversation. And we’ll see how fair it is then.” He pulled at his shirt again. Like he was too hot, and he was breathing too heavy.
“Maddox?” I asked. “Are you okay?”
The doors opened and Hardwick came in, all smiles. “Ah, Maddox. Just the man I wanted to see. Check-up time from yesterday.” The mood in the room only then seemed to dawn on him. “Oh, I can come back if now’s not a good time.”
“Now’s the perfect time,” Maddox said, stomping out.
I was left, very awkwardly, with Wes, Blake, Luke, and Jeremy. “So that went well,” Jeremy said, letting out a huge sigh.
I inhaled deeply, trying to sound calm. “Look. I don’t know what I can say to make any of you feel better or reassured in any way. But he’s . . . he means a lot to me. And we’ve talked about the what-ifs and it’s pretty obvious what happens if things turn to shit.” I shrugged. “I’ll be transferred or fired. Nothing for you guys will change.”
“Roscoe,” Wes said gently. “We don’t want that. That’s the exact thing we don’t want.”
“Is it worth risking your job over?” Blake asked me.
“He is, yeah.” I nodded. “He is worth it. And I offered to change units, to swap with Amber or Ryan, but he said no.”
“He’s been happier these last few weeks than he has been in a long time,” Jeremy added, resigned. “We can all see that.”
Luke ran his hand over his face. “I don’t want to sound like the prick, but our concerns are valid.”
“They are,” I agreed. “And so are his. He’s been . . . God. I shouldn’t say anything else.”
“He’s been struggling,” Jeremy offered. “We know.”
Blake met my gaze. “He denies it every time we ask if he’s okay.”
“He doesn’t want to burden you with it,” I told them. “He says you guys, like him, are dealing with enough. But he talks to me. He tells me how he feels, the loneliness, the isolation, the pressure, the fear of not being enough. He talks to me. Finally. And you guys can think it’s just us banging—pretty sure that was the word someone used—but this whole thing between us started because he was scared to be alone, and he wanted someone to hold his hand. Literally. I held his fucking hand. So think of us what you will, but it’s not just some meaningless sex thing.” I sighed. “Not for me, anyway.”
A staffer came in and made her way over. “Uh, Roscoe? The doctor wants to see you? It’s about Maddox.”
Oh god.
I ran to the door, not knowing where to go. “Second door on your right,” she called out behind me.
Second door . . . I pushed the door open. “Is he . . . ?”
Maddox was sitting up on a foldaway table. “I’m fine.”
“He’s not fine,” the doctor said, as if it wasn’t his first time. “His blood pressure is far too high, and after yesterday, with the heat exhaustion and dehydration, he—”
“I’m not going to the fucking hospital,” Maddox said.
I went to him and rubbed his back just as Jeremy, Luke, Blake, and Wes came in the door.
“Oh goodie,” Maddox deadpanned. “Everyone’s here.” He stood up from the table. “Doc, I said I’m fine. Just been a stressful morning arguing with these dickbags.” He thumbed to his four best friends. “Come and take another reading in an hour and I’ll be fine.”
The doc looked at me. “He’s on bedrest for the day. No public appearances, no gym session.”
“That’s a shame,” Maddox mumbled as he took a step toward the door.
“No exercise of any kind, including sex or dance practice. No alcohol,” the doc added. “If his blood pressure doesn’t come down, I’ll need to reassess his travel tomorrow and whether he’ll be going to South America at all. I’ll need to speak to Ambrose.”
Everyone stared. No one breathed.
Maddox rocked back on his heels and he took a sharp inhale as if he couldn’t quite catch his breath. “Like fucking hell,” he breathed, his voice tight. “I’m getting on that plane tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I said, putting my hand on his arm, trying to defuse the situation. “Maddox is on bedrest. From now on.” Then I glared at the doctor. “Telling him that the tour is in jeopardy is not going to lower his blood pressure anytime soon.”
The doctor shrugged. “He needs to know.”
Maddox thumped his chest. “He’s in the fucking room.”
I met his gaze. He was pale and his breaths were short and sharp. “I’m sorry. Maddox, I—”
“You know what?” he said, pulling his arm free. “This whole day can go to fucking hell.” He stormed out, bumping shoulders with Jeremy as he went. “And anyone who wants to go with it.”
Goddammit.
I chased after him and caught up before he reached his room. He swiped his card and pushed his door open, and I followed him in. He threw his key on the table and snatched a hoodie off the back of a chair just to rage-throw it across the room. “Fuck!”
I grabbed his arm and swung him around, pulling him straight into a tight embrace. He was tense at first and resisted a moment. His breaths were hard and fast. Too hard, too fast. “Breathe for me,” I murmured, holding him until he calmed down.
“Roscoe,” he mumbled into my chest. “I’m really fucking mad. You might wanna—”
I pulled back, took his face in my hands, and kissed him. Hard. Tongue, teeth, lips, hands, frantic and demanding. His shock gave way to welcome and he began kissing me back, and once I felt his body surrender to me, when the fight and anger in him was gone, I slowed the kiss.
I still had him pulled against me, he wasn’t going anywhere. We kissed for I don’t know how long . . . until nothing else mattered. He hitched one leg around my hip and I hoisted him up and carried him to the bed. I laid him down and settled my weight on his.
“You cheated,” he said, smiling now. “The master of distraction.”
“It worked though, did it not? You’re not so mad now. Do you feel okay?” I ran my hand over his chest. “You were pretty worked up.”
“I feel much better.” He spread his legs wide and wrapped them around me. “You better finish what you started, or I’ll be mad all over again.”
I chuckled and kissed him, slow and lovely. I slid my hands up under his shirt, aiming to get it off him, when I remembered. I quickly pulled his shirt back down. “The doctor said no.”
“Fuck the doctor.”
“No thanks. He’s really not my type.”
Maddox stared for a minute before he conceded a smile. “I’m glad to hear that.”
I rolled us onto our sides, keeping him close, our legs tangled, my hand on his cheek. He was looking into my eyes in ways that both thrilled and scared me. It was so honest, so real. My heart squeezed. There was so much I wanted to say, so much, and I had no clue where to begin.
“I’m sorry you fought with the guys about us.”
He made a face. “They’ll get over it. I’m not giving in. I compromise everything else. But not this.”
“I don’t want you to fight with them. Not over me. They’re like your brothers, and I don’t want to get in the middle of that.”
“But it’s not you I’m fighting over. It’s me. I’m fighting for me. I need this.”
“Is it just you though? If I didn’t work with you, it might be different. But I am part of the team, and that makes it different. What happens between us does affect the others. If we fight or if things end between us, there is a fallout. But if I was some random person, it wouldn’t change anything if we . . . broke up. I don’t know if that’s the right word.”
He smiled and sighed. “Break up. That implies we’re a couple, does it not?”
God. “Well, I don’t know . . . we both said this morning we didn’t know what to call us. Just that we’re kinda together or seeing each other. I don’t know what that makes us.”
His cheeks flushed pink and he smiled into the palm of my hand. “I dunno, Roscoe. We’re seeing each other. And I’m not seeing anyone else. I don’t want to see anyone else. Do you want to see other people?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“We’re seeing each other most nights, we’re exclusive.” He smiled. “I think we’re dating, Roscoe.”
I laughed. “I think we might be.”
He made a face, nervous or uncomfortable. “I’ve never . . . I’ve never had a boyfriend or dated anyone. I’m twenty-three, so that’s pretty lame.” He let out a quiet laugh and ducked his head. “Just so you know. I’m probably not very good at it.”
Holy shit.
I lifted his chin and kissed him softly. “I’m not very good at it either. My last relationship ended because my entire life revolved around a certain singer in a band.”
He grimaced. “Sorry about that.”
He didn’t look sorry. “I’m not. I wouldn’t change a thing.”
He smiled then. “Can’t say I was actually sorry about it either. I was just being polite.”
I barked out a laugh. “Thanks.” That was years ago though, and it reminded me of something he’d said to Jeremy. “Can I ask you something?”
He looked worried. “Uh, okay?”
“It was two things, actually.”
“Oh, that’s worse. Just remember we’re supposed to be lowering my blood pressure.”
I chuckled. “It was something you said to Jeremy the other day, and something the guys said earlier.”
He groaned out a laugh. “Yeah.”
I stroked my thumb across his cheekbone. “You said to Jeremy that you’d wanted this for a long time, and today Luke said you’d wanted me for years. Then Blake said you’d pined after me for two years.”
He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to my chin. “Christ, Roscoe. Don’t make me say it.”
“Don’t be embarrassed,” I whispered. “I’ve had . . . thoughts . . . about you for about the same time.”
His eyes met mine. “You have?”
I nodded, smiling at the hope in his face. “Probably longer. I told myself it was impossible. That it could never happen.”
He frowned. “Impossible? It’s not impossible.”
“I know that now.” I kissed him soft and sweet. “It’s not easy. But it’s not impossible.”
“I’ve liked you since the day you started,” he murmured, his dark eyes searching mine. “You walked into the dance studio and Ambrose introduced you, remember? You were the hottest thing I’d ever seen. I thought you were straight at first. Then I found out you were gay and I was like, oh my god, yes, aaaaand then I found out you had a boyfriend. Which sucked.” He smiled sadly. “Not that it mattered because I never thought it was possible either, to be honest. I told myself I couldn’t have that. I couldn’t have someone in my life. Not while I was in Atrous. I couldn’t have both.”
I thumbed his cheek and kissed him softly. “Yes you can. You’re allowed to be happy. You deserve to be happy.” I sighed. “But that brings me to the second thing . . .”
“Oh god.”
I chuckled. “The song ‘Oceans.’”
He groaned. “You were never supposed to know.”
“You wrote it for me?”
He searched my eyes for the longest time, and then he sang in a near whisper, melodic and haunting.
I am lost
in oceans of blue
* * *
endless waves
that pull me under
depths I've never known
* * *
oceans of blue
in a storm of you
may the stars above guide us,
may your lighthouse bring me home
“Maddox,” I murmured. I damn near could have cried.
“You have the bluest eyes,” he said. “I dreamed of getting lost in your eyes. I dreamed that one day you’d look at me like you’re looking at me right now.”
I brought his lips to mine, kissing him. It was sweet and tender. My heart was in it. God, my heart was in it.
He sighed and scanned my face as if he were taking in every detail. Eventually he smiled. “You called me baby in front of them. That’s how they all knew something was up.”
“I have no actual memory of saying that. In my defense, I was stressed and panicking because you were passed out and I needed to get your core temperature down, and that included picking you up and peeling your shirt off you.”
He smiled. “I like that you were so worried about me.” His cheeks were pink. “And you can call me baby anytime.”
I ran my fingers through his hair. “Hey, baby,” I whispered.
He looked at me, those dark eyes wide and bright. He was smiling that real smile, the one he rarely showed anyone. “Yeah, baby?”
I shook my head, disbelieving that he was in my arms, looking at me like that, calling me that. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
He pecked his lips to mine, smiling. He studied my eyes for a long moment. “I don’t know why the others don’t want me to have this. This, right here, being happy with you. I don’t know why they don’t understand. I’ve never had this. I’ve never had anyone . . . and now I have you.”
I held him a little tighter. “They said they realized how much happier you are. They want that for you, they really do. They’re just worried about everything else. And that’s fine. Let them worry about that stuff.”
“I don’t want to be a problem. I don’t want this to be a problem. I wanted them to be happy for me.”
“Give them time.”
He sighed. “Are you still going to tell Amber and Ryan?”
“Do you want me to?”
He seemed to consider this. “I thought I did, but now I don’t know. I don’t want anything to change, but I don’t want any secrets. If we tell them, then let the chips fall where they may, but at least we won’t have to hide anything.”
“Wait up . . . just how public are you talking?”
He laughed. “Just when it’s us. In the hotel or in a car or on a plane. Not in public. I don’t think I want to offer you up for a public sacrifice just yet.”
“Sacrifice?”
“Yeah. The fans. You know, the slightly obsessed ones who for some strange reason think I’m going to marry them? Well, they probably won’t like the idea of us being together too much.”
“But we have a couple name already. They started it.”
He laughed but he soon fell quiet. “You know that gives me an idea . . .”
“What’s that?”
“We should tell Amber and Ryan, and Ambrose too. But we’ll give them a list of terms and conditions. Like no public displays of affection when we’re working, no public making-out sessions, no hand-holding in front of fans or papzz. Or the documentary crew. I don’t even notice them anymore.” He sighed. “But when we’re here or in the common room with the staff, or if we’re just hanging out, if I want to sit with you, I can. That kind of thing.”
That made me smile. “Good idea.”
“That way they can’t be the ones to dictate anything. Or tell us no. Ambrose’ll know we’ve thought this through.”
“I love that idea, but just don’t get your hopes up. Ambrose will always have conditions of his own.”
Which could have me unemployed. But I didn’t say that out loud.
He nodded. “I’m okay with that. I’m just done hiding. We’re officially dating now. You even said so.”
I chuckled. “I’m dating Maddox Kershaw. Maddox fucking Kershaw. And not the Maddox the world thinks he is.” I brushed my thumb along his jaw. “But the real you. The Maddox only I get to see.”
He searched my eyes. “Christ, Roscoe.” He took my hand and put it to his heart. A raw vulnerability pooled in the depth of his gaze. “My heart. You probably shouldn’t say shit like that if you want to lower my blood pressure.”
I laughed. “God. Sorry.”
He cupped my jaw and drew me in for a kiss with just a hint of tongue. The kind of kiss that started something more, and I was just about to pull him on top of me when someone knocked on the door.
“Hey, dickwad, it’s me. Open up.”
Jeremy.
