Holden Young
I should be excited. It was the start of the tour. That meant crowds screaming my name, camera flashes, massive stages, sleepless nights, and a schedule that was supposed to keep me high on adrenaline.
But all I felt was exhaustion—mentally and physically.
I sank into the leather seat, gripping my phone like it was the only thing keeping me anchored. No new notifications. No messages.
No word from Alissa.
And that pissed me off.
I knew she had seen it. She saw what happened at that damn party. The gossip sites weren’t talking about anything else. “Holden Young and Chloe Laurent: The Hottest Couple of the Moment.”
What a joke.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chloe shifting in her seat, scrolling through her phone with an irritated expression. The screen’s glow highlighted her perfect features, red hair cascading effortlessly over her shoulders. She was silent, but I noticed the way she bit her lower lip—restless about something.
Great. Here we go.
“What?” I asked, already out of patience.
“You’re too quiet.”
“I didn’t know I had to narrate every thought just because I’m sitting next to you. I’m just thinking about the show, that’s all.”
She rolled her eyes, dropping her phone onto her lap. “You could at least pretend better.”
I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. “Pretend what?”
“That this isn’t complete torture for you—being around me.” She hated not being the center of attention, even in the worst way possible.
My eyes met hers, and for a split second, I saw something there. Frustration, maybe. Exhaustion. Or the realization that this whole thing was a mess. That I was a mess, too.
“Chloe… you know this doesn’t have to be a problem, right? I don’t feel anything negative toward you.”
The truth was, I didn’t feel anything at all. I just didn’t want to be crueler than necessary.
She looked away, picking up her phone again. “I know.”
Liar.
“Do you really?”
She let out a short, sharp laugh. “Do you always have to be this blunt? Jesus, Holden. But fine… I’ll get used to your indifference.”
I crossed my arms, sinking deeper into the seat, giving her a lazy glance. “Just don’t get any expectations.”
“I’m not.”
Before I could say what was really on my mind, Cyrus walked into the jet’s lounge area, scanning the two of us like he was measuring the level of disaster. He always had impeccable timing. Or the worst.
“Wow, loving the energy in here,” he muttered, tossing a folder onto the coffee table.
“What’s this?” I asked, ignoring his sarcasm.
“The tour schedule. Everything you need to know—interviews, shows, events…” He pulled a vape from his pocket and took a slow drag before continuing, “Also, what the hell is going on with you two?”
Chloe sighed heavily, rolling her eyes. Yeah, same.
“Ask Holden.”
“Holden?”
“Ask Chloe,” I shot back, irritated.
Cyrus rubbed his temples like we were some kind of walking migraine. I didn’t feel sorry for him. He deserved it after stringing me along like a puppet. I guess that’s how this industry worked—keeping artists in the dark until they were too drained to fight back against bad decisions.
“I just need to know if I’m going to be dealing with a PR disaster mid-tour,” he said with a nervous chuckle.
“You won’t,” I answered immediately, ignoring the edge in his voice.
Chloe looked at me but stayed silent. I could see it happening—her starting to hate me.
Good. That’s what I wanted.
“Alright, then. I’ll trust you two kids,” Cyrus said, scrolling through his tablet with a furrowed brow. “Because you’ve got a brutal schedule ahead. Next show’s tomorrow night in Chicago. Then we head to New York.”
“I know that.”
He ignored me.
“You’ve got interviews before the shows. First one’s tomorrow at the hotel.”
“Fantastic, Cyrus.”
“Holden.”
“What?” I rolled my eyes and looked at him.
“Don’t screw this up, got it?”
Cyrus studied me like he was waiting for me to snap.
“I know.”
He tilted his head. “Do you?”
The anger inside me flared. I was already putting up with too much.
“What do you want me to say? That I’m excited? That I can’t wait to pretend my life is perfect while faking a romance with Chloe and singing stupid love songs with her?”
The silence that followed was thick.
Cyrus let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You think you’re such a revolutionary, Holden. So incredibly rebellious. But in the end, you’re as predictable as every other artist I’ve worked with.”
I frowned. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I knew you’d react this way. That your head is somewhere else. And I get it—but I don’t support the theatrics. That’s not my job.”
I looked away, ignoring his words. Took a deep breath before responding. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Physically, yeah.” Cyrus crossed his arms. He looked tired. “But your mind? No clue. My guess? Boston. Or wherever the hell Alissa is.”
My chest tightened. I didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer.
Cyrus stood up, grabbing his tablet again. “Just hold it together, Holden. Until this all blows over.”
And with that, he left.
Silence settled between Chloe and me again.
She ran her fingers along the edge of her phone, not looking at me. “You really love her, don’t you? This woman.”
My jaw tensed. I didn’t say anything, but I heard her let out a soft, knowing laugh.
“You don’t have to answer.”
Not answering was my answer.
The jet rocked slightly as we passed through the clouds, but I barely noticed. My body was here, but my mind…
Cyrus was right.
My mind was with her. Wherever she was.