Volatile

Welcome to my hell.Banished to this forsaken celebrity timeout—with my best friend—to play emotional chicken because I can’t admit I’m attracted to him. I spent the last decade performing next to him. I’ve never looked at him as more until—he wore a skirt on stage.With smeared eye-liner and his filthy smile bent over, singing to a packed crowd and it’s getting too hot under these stage lights.I can’t be with him—not like that.Not where we grew up. My father beat every inch of anything ‘unmanly’ out of me.AspenI finally found the courage to embrace who I am. Costumes and skirts and fishnets—fully owning my grungy punk rock lifestyle.The fans love it and the internet goes wild, driving us to a whole new level of fame. I’m on top of the world and finally dealing with my trauma until I realize my best friend won’t speak to me.He won’t even look me in the eyes when we are on stage.And then it hits me—is he—turned on?Two can play this game.I’ll push every button until he gives me what I want.