“Well, I knew all of that already.” He smirked. “You’re stubborn as hell, though you started to freak me the hell out when you waited until just now to show up.”
“You’re not mad?”
He paused, collecting his words. “I was, and I’m glad you’re apologizing. But over the last month, so many people have been blowing smoke up my ass that I realized how much I missed you being honest with me no matter what. I love that I can always rely on you for that, even if it’s not necessarily what I want to hear. I really fucking missed you. And the thing is, the album is different from what we planned, but it works. I can’t wait for you to listen to it live. People go crazy.” He gripped my shoulders. “They know the lyrics. Like all of them.”
I nearly kissed him. I’d thought about it before. The midnight type of thought that you let yourself have because secrets feelmore acceptable in the dark. But I was gripped with this need to close the distance between us, because I thought that no matter what happened, I’d always have him. And I wanted it all with him.
A knock rattled the door. “Mr. Hart, you’re needed.” The voice from the other side of the door caused me to flinch and Wes dropped his hands.
“Got it! I’ll be out in five,” he said then looked at me. “I’m trying out the name. What do you think?”
My nose scrunched. “That it’s weird. But also, all of this.” My eyes bounced around the room from the couch, to the collection of water bottles, and finally to the wall of mirrors. In some ways being in the studio felt like playing pretend singing along with my best friends. Isolated and just for us. But this? There were people who were working to make the production happen. Calling him Mr. Hart. “Oh my God. It’s all so real.”
“It’s been fucking surreal and I’ve been waiting to show you all of it.” He grabs my hands, the coarse pad of his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “To experience all of it with you. Please tell me that you’re up for performing.”
“Wes, you don’t have to do that.”
“I don’t want it any other way.” Letting go of one of my hands he reached down to pick up the set list. “And it’s already official.”
There at the top was my name.
“You didn’t.”
“I knew you’d be here,” he said. “We show up for each other Ave. That’s what we do.”
“I could give you a good luck kiss if you need one, Avery,” Jared offered, wiggling his brows suggestively.
“Not happening,” Wes said, shooting him a glare. He pulled me into an embrace and whispered, “Give ’em hell.”
I couldn’t help it. I planted my lips against his jaw before darting toward the stage.
“Where’s mine?” Jared whined. “My cheek is lonely.”
“In your dreams, Petrov,” I said.
Wes shoved his friend back. “Nope. She’s not doing that.”
A stagehand passed me a spare guitar as I took the stage. I stood before the mic, the lights warm on my skin, the crowd leaning in, eager to see what I was made of. A familiar exhilaration flooded my veins—to earn my place, to capture attention and refuse to let go.
I didn’t see the guys after I finished since they’d been directed to a different part of the stage, and I wanted to watch from the crowd, to be caught up in the love of their music. During the lull as their instruments were wheeled on, I went to grab a drink at the bar. A few minutes later, a woman came up to me and leaned against the corner. She was in a denim pleated mini skirt and a red cropped shirt with a leather jacket thrown over top, her hair in waist-length goddess braids that flowed over one bronzed shoulder and down her back.
“You were great up there,” she said, flashing her teeth in a brilliant smile. “Let me buy you a drink?”
“Sure. Gin and tonic. Avery, but I guess you know that.” I held out my hand, and she shook it with a firm grip.
“Yeah, but I like it when musicians don’t assume they’re better than everyone else. I’m Lydia. Are you going back up to watch the show from the wings?”
“I’ve heard the best way to enjoy Fool’s Gambit is in the crowd.”
“If you need a friend, I know how to have a good time.”
“Count me in.”
She ordered, and the bartender made our drinks.
“Here.” She passed me a clear cup with limes on the rim, then her eyes went to the stage. “We better make it up there or we’ll be stuck in no man’s land.”
Taking the lead, she guided us toward the middle of the crowd. People around us emphatically discussed the set list and their favorite songs until the lights went out, and the room seemed to hold its breath. Shadowy forms took the stage and were met with a roar of eardrum shattering excitement. The feeling infected me, seeping into my blood.
