“Oh, there you are. I was about to put out a missing person’s report.” The sound of a familiar low voice caused my eyes to fly open to meet the tide pool blue ones trained on me. “What took you so long?”
“Wes,” I breathed as cool relief flooded my veins.
My best friend stood at the center of what appeared to be a dressing room. Clothes were flung over couches and chairs, and empty food containers cluttered a table in the corner. He was tugging down the hem of an intentionally tattered gray T-shirt. A stripe of pale skin over his stomach vanished as he pulled it into place.
I couldn’t stop taking him in. The disheveled brown hair that had grown a few inches since I last saw him. A dimple popped in his right cheek because of how hard he was smiling at me. There was a flutter in my stomach. That had been happening recently when I thought about him. It was annoying. He’d been my best friend since middle school, nothing more.
A hard pounding against my back knocked me from the moment. The force rattled the hinges, and I jumped forward to stand next to Wes. Being next to him was all it took to feel the safest I had in so long.
“I know you’re in there,” Clarke roared.
“A friend of yours?” Wes asked with a quirked brow. His smile twisted into a knowing smirk.
“Nothing special, just running from security.” I shrugged.
“I can’t invite you anywhere. I’ll take care of it.” Wes shoved his hands in his pockets, taking on a casual air as he ambled to the door and cracked it open.
“You—” Clarke snapped, before correcting his tone. “Mr. Hart. I’m sorry I thought someone slipped into your dressing room.” He looked around Wes, and I gave a flippant half wave.
Wes stepped out of the way so I was in full view. “Oh, her? She’s trouble, but I can’t get enough of her. It would be a good idea to remember her face. One day you’ll be able to tell people you mettheAvery Sloane.”
My heart skipped. I knew I was good, and I wasn’t going to apologize for it, but Wes’s faith in me was special. It made me feel like anything was possible.
“Understood. Thank you for your time, Mr. Hart.” Tight lipped, Clarke slinked away back to his post.
“Hart.I forgot you rebranded.” I understood it from a business standpoint, but it was hard to take him seriously.
“What pop star gets girls with a last name like Gaflin?”
“Well, as a girl, I think it’s cute.” I gave an exaggerated flutter of my lashes.
“You don’t count.”
“Love to hear it!”
“I—Fuck. I mean you’re you. You’re just—” he stammered, and I smiled to myself, loving that beneath all the swaggering confidence he was still an idiot.My idiot.“Whatever. We need to get you on stage, we’re already late.”
“Nice save,Hart.”
Wes was right. Thanks to my flight delay and Clarke I really didn’t have much time to get ready. He left me in his dressing room as I rushed to touch up my smudged makeup and threw on shorts over fishnets and a black tank top. One look at my dyed wild cherry red hair and I knew it was hopeless to attempt anything, so I let it tumble around my shoulders. It would end up looking like this anyway at the end of the set.
Before I was finished, a stage manager wearing a black headset around their neck, ushered me from the room, guiding me intoposition on the rising platform backstage. I was handed my guitar, freshly connected to the venue’s speakers, then the floor jerked beneath my feet as I ascended.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the beams of the stage lights. My mouth went dry as the crowd came into focus. Thousands of people filled the sold-out venue. I’d never performed for so many people. They were here for Fool’s Gambit, wearing band merch and carrying homemade signs. They were here to have their hearts stolen by the new boyband sensation, not an opening act nobody heard of. It was obvious in the way half of them chattered as I stepped up to the microphone.
But I wasn’t someone who would be ignored.
“Hello, Las Vegas! I’m Avery Sloane. This might be the first time you’ve heard my name but after tonight, you’ll never forget it!”
I had eight songs. Eight chances to convince them I belonged on this stage, and I wouldn’t waste a single moment. My fingers danced across the frets of my guitar with an opening riff that tore through the space. Faces whipped up to watch and I wouldn’t let them look away. Not for a second.
The rush of performing surged through me, setting my blood ablaze. On stage I felt powerful, in complete control. I needed this after so many months of feeling like I was on the brink of drowning. I lost myself in the music so much that when I found myself on the ground at the edge of the stage, knees burning and tights shredded from sliding across the ground, I didn’t want to stop. Not now. Not ever.
But I had to. I stood backstage and watched the guys. They’d gotten better since the last time I’d seen them. The show breezed by in a time-bending product of adrenaline. Once we wrapped, we headed to dinner at a twenty-four-hour burger place. It was near midnight but all of us had an excess of energy.
“And when Avery slid across the stage while playing the guitar, that was so fucking cool!” Evelyn exclaimed, shoving a handful of fries into her mouth. She slipped from the red booth and attempted to slide across the polished wood floor of the restaurant. “Like this.”
“Evelyn!” Luca growled, trying to hush his younger sister who was visiting for the weekend, and I laughed. She was the opposite of her brother in personality. Where Luca was reserved, Evelyn was more than willing to share every thought buzzing in her head. They both had startling green eyes, tanned skin, and thick brown hair with a subtle wave.
