I can’t move. I’m not sure I will ever move again. One thing about meeting Alex and the guys from school again is that I’ve eaten better in this past week than I did all of the past year.

Dylan was the only one here when he came in, but he left without eating, with a messenger bag over his shoulder, and said he’d be back sometime. It was odd, just me and Alex in this big house, eating lasagna and garlic bread, watching an old movie on AMC, but a perfect night to end a long week.

I did need to stop and breathe. Alex was right, I don’t do that enough. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I did. Certainly not since I left high school.

I need to do this just being and breathing more often. Especially if it involves being curled up on the couch with Alex. Though, I’m not sure I’ll ever get over the shock that it’s Alex I actually want to be with.

It’s getting late, and I probably should go home, but I can’t seem to drag myself away, or offAlex. He’s reclined against the back corner of the couch, and I’m lying on him. My head on his chest, his arm around me, playing with my hair. Bliss.

Whoever thought I’d ever use Alex and bliss in the same sentence?

Well, it’s not really that late. Only eight at night, but I can barely keep my eyes open. Probably from walking in the fresh air, a great meal and really relaxing for the first time in years.

His phone dings, and Alex grabs it from the table and looks at the text. I read it, even though it isn’t any of my business. Actually, I can’t really help it since he’s holding his arm out and typing with this thumb while his other arm is still around me.

Joy: I need you. When do you want to do me?

Did Alex just get a booty call?

Alex: Anytime

Joy: Great! See ya soon.

“Shit.” He starts typing. Tonight’s not go just as the doorbell rings.

I sit up so he can answer, not sure if it’s time for me to leave or not.

“Thank God you’re home.”

“Hey, Joy.”

“You know, when I get the urge I always think of you.”

“About that, Joy.”

Where the hell did I put my coat?

“Bedroom?” This Joy starts going up the stairs and pulling her shirt up at the same time.

I definitely need my coat since Joy is clearly ready, willing and able to give Alex the one thing I told him I would not do.

“Joy!”

She pauses and turns. “What?”

“I have a guest.” He points to me.

Joy’s eyes go wide, and her mouth forms an “O” as she starts smoothing her shirt back down.

I know her. Another student from Alex’s graduating class. Have they been fucking since Baxter?

“Kelsey Fry?”

Why does everyone say my name like that? As if it’s shocking I still exist.

Then she looks at Alex. “With you?”

Well, our mutual hatred for each other wasn’t exactly a secret. I’m just surprised so many people remember.

Alex’s phone rings. He glances down at it and goes still.

“What?” I ask.

“It says Reed’s.”

“Answer it,” Joy and I say at the same time.

I cross my fingers and take a deep breath. Is it wrong that I hope he makes the cut but they don’t want to air the audition tape? That’s what would happen in a perfect world, but we aren’t in a perfect world. “I’m going to be sick,” I mumble to myself as the wonderful lasagna threatens to make a second appearance. Alex and the Reeds is going to be all or nothing. He’s good at what he does and I’ll need to prepare for the world to hear everything that I’ve kept private for so long. It’s my personal life and nobody else’s business. So why the hell did I spill it all in front of a camera?

All I’m hearing is “okay” and then an “I understand.” My heart sinks.

Alex is pacing and listening. Joy sinks down on the couch next to me. Both of us waiting for him to get off the phone.

“Okay, he says, but I have a favor to ask.” Alex looks at me, our eyes meet and I can tell he’s worried. “Kelsey and I, well we said some things that shouldn’t have been said. Could you edit out all reference to our high school? I think we started to say the name a few times and I know we mentioned the current dean’s name. That can’t be aired.”

More listening, which is driving me nuts. What the hell are they saying to Alex?

“It’s just that…” He looks at us again. “I need to tell you something, but you’ve got to promise me that it will be kept in complete confidence. It’s our fault in the first place, but if certain information gets out…”

“What the hell did you two say?” Joy asks me.

I wave my hand to shush her. We can talk about this after Alex is off the phone.

We then listen as he tells whoever he’s talking to all about Baxter, where the kids come from, and that this place gives fresh starts. To anyone outside of it, Baxter is a high school for the artistically gifted. Not kids that once lived on the street, some were in juvie, others in gangs, drug or alcohol addicted, all kinds of mental and emotional issues, former prostitutes, and the list goes on and on, all lumped under a category of Troubled Teens. He explains that if anyone learned the truth, none of us would have gotten into college and even if we did, we sure as hell wouldn’t get any jobs.

“I need a drink.” Joy gets up.

“Me too,” I mumble

She marches into the kitchen and comes back out with a couple of beers.

I probably shouldn’t hang out since Alex and Joy clearly have something going on, and I’m just in the way, but I want to know exactly who he’s talking to. If they want to know why Alex needs editing, then he must have made it.

When she comes back through, Alex grabs my beer from her, and Joy heads back into the kitchen. This isn’t going good. Not at all.

“Funding? The Baxter Foundation. The family is rich, but they need to do a lot of fund raising. Not even they have enough money to keep the school going and growing.”

He listens some more as Joy comes back with my beer.

“At last count, I think they were nearing about 300 students, and growing. They don’t like to turn anyone away with need and talent, but they are starting to run out of room.”

He’s nodding as whoever is on the other end talks.

“Thanks man. Appreciate it.”

More silence, which puts me further on edge.

“Me? I’m going back to school. I’ll do tats on the side, but I think I want to teach art.”

He finally hangs up and takes a drink of the beer.

“Well?” Joy and I demand at the same time. She may have gone for a beer, but she hasn’t even twisted the cap off yet.

“Didn’t make the cut.”

He’s kind of disappointed but not seriously bummed.

“So, why did he need to know all that about Baxter?” I’m almost afraid of the answer, and my stomach keeps tightening.

His cobalt eyes meet mine. “They still want to air the segment. They want to use some of the auditions that didn’t make it. We were an interesting couple.”