Chapter 8
The backlash arrives before sunrise.
Alex knows because his phone barely unlocks.
Too many notifications. Too many opinions. Too many people deciding who he is.
Embarrassment hits first.
Not because of the kiss.
Because strangers slow it down. Zoom in. Analyze his face like it belongs to them.
He looks uncomfortable.
This is a stunt.
Jackson’s using him.
Who even is the other guy?
Alex drops the phone onto the bed.
Isolation wraps around him tight. Hotel room. Curtains drawn. Silence thick enough to
choke on.
A knock.
He ignores it.
Another knock. Softer.
“Alex,” Jackson’s voice says through the door.
Alex opens it a crack.
Jackson looks wrecked. Hoodie. Dark circles. No confidence left to hide behind.
“They moved my room,” Jackson says. “Management freaked.”
Alex steps aside.
They sit on opposite ends of the bed. Distance deliberate.
“I didn’t plan the kiss,” Jackson says. “I swear.”
“I know,” Alex says.
“I just—” Jackson rubs his face. “I couldn’t keep watching you disappear.”
Small connection sparks. Honest. Painful.
Alex studies him. “They’re tearing me apart online.”
Jackson nods. “I know. And I hate that I dragged you into it.”
Betrayal sits between them. Quiet. Heavy.
“You didn’t drag me,” Alex says. “You just didn’t protect me.”
Jackson swallows hard. “I want to.”
“Then learn,” Alex says. “Or let me go.”
The words land heavy.
Jackson doesn’t argue.
That terrifies Alex more than yelling would have.
Because silence means Jackson finally understands the cost.
And doesn’t know yet if he can pay it.
