The Boy With the Broken Smile

I force a smile at the sight of the gorgeous man standing feet away; the one I am not allowed to touch or talk to. If I take a chance and try to tell him how I feel, I highly doubt it'll have the effect it had when I told him Saturday night. But then, he was drunk. How could he understand the full impact of my revelation when he was so snockered it was a miracle he could breathe correctly? I finally managed to draw enough courage to tell him I thought he made a mistake, but he just nodded, laughed, and let me kiss him. A man as straight as him let him kiss him on the lips, in front of other men. That should have tipped me off. But it didn't. I just kept kissing him until he said he had to go.

I wanted him to stay with me that night, to come back to my place, but he was worried about Miranda. I should have expected him to leave me for her, especially when I know he loves her more than words can express. The sad thing is, that about sums up my love for him. I want him to realize how much I love him and love me in return, but to do that, I would have to wish nothing less than ultimate heartache on her. Her perfect little world with him would have to be destroyed to make room for me, and even if I do want him, I know that's not fair.

Still keeping my smile plastered to my face, I file into the building between Christina and Cee-Lo. Neither of them seem to suspect anything is different between me and him, but that's mostly due to my excellent acting skills. I've tried to focus on my team, tried to keep him from noticing the change in my emotions involving him, and so far, I think I've done an excellent job. Either way, he's still my friend, and every time he speaks to me, I can pretend he loves me. Every smile, every friendly hug, every laugh shared between us is another memory I can store in my mind. Late at night, when it's dark, those memories of the good times are all I have to keep the tears at bay. Most of the time, they cause the tears instead of soothing them.

A hand lands on my shoulder, and though I doubt it's him, I still find myself spinning around to see if he's the one trying to get my attention. When I realize it is him, his big blue eyes I'm staring into, all of the breath in my body just rushes out of me. The world around me seems to dissolve into gray, leaving just the two of us in this quiet little world. I meet his eyes, will him to tell me how much he wants me and loves me. He takes me gently by the arm and leads me over to the shadows where no one will hear us when we talk.

"We have to talk about last night eventually," he says, his face serious. "About the kissing. Listen, Adam. . . I don't want you to get the wrong idea about us, but—"

I hold up my hand before he can go any farther, unable to wipe the smile off of my face. "Really, Blake. We don't have to talk about it. It was just a kiss. I understand."

"No, it's not that simple. The kiss. . . I didn't expect it. I thought you were—" he starts again, but I lift a hand and gently rest two fingers on his lips. He blinks at me, but he makes no move to push my hand away when I start talking.

"Look, it was a mistake," I say, pressing on his lips when he tries to speak. "It was a mistake, Blake. Nothing more, nothing less. I was drunk. So were you. I said some stuff I shouldn't have. So did you. Alcohol does that to a person. Just forget about it, okay? It doesn't bother me. You don't see me getting all worried and upset over it. It's fine."

He frowns at me and takes my wrist, pinning my hand to my hip with a deep sigh. "I wish I could believe you. I really do. But I know better than to trust that fake smile of yours."

Before I can ask him what he means, he walks past me to join Cee-Lo and Christina, turning his back on me yet again. I cover my mouth with my hand, not sure what he means by saying my smile is fake. Up until now, no one has said a word about the way I hide behind my fakeness, the way I disguise my pain with laughter and jokes. No one's cared. Even when it was clear my façade was falling through, no one gave a damn. They just walked on by and commented on how lovely my smile was, or whether or not they liked me clean-shaven or a little scruffy. Even Blake, the one guy I really bonded with here, didn't seem to care.

I swallow heavily as I move to join the others, my face flaming when Blake sends me an accusatory glare over his shoulder. The smile I've been using to ward away the suspicion from the others fades away as I sidle next to Cee-Lo, using the shadows in this part of the building to hide my face. My eyes well with tears as if on cue, but I suck it up and force on another smile, hoping this one will work just as well as the others have in the past.

"Are you okay, man?" Cee-Lo asks, resting a hand on my shoulder in obvious concern.

Swallowing hard, I nod and try to brighten my smile up a bit. "I'm fine, Cee-Lo. I'm good. Just ready to get this over with. Live shows are hell, you know?"

He nods and smiles, one much more real than mine, but he drops his hand and doesn't bring the matter back up. I breathe a sigh of relief and turn my eyes through the curtains to our four chairs, thankful his is so far from mine.

At least, with distance between us, he won't be able to see the times my smile wavers and dies.