He pulls out a jar of what can only be something he’s left in his room to mold for an extended period of time. Tony’s games are always extremely creative and almost always involve the loser eating or doing something particularly unpleasant. I’m honestly surprised none of us have been hospitalized yet, and I thank God on a regular basis for the cleaning crew that will be arriving after we leave. I’m sure every one of them has a special hatred for Tony.
Before anyone can say another word, Eric sprays hissuspicious liquidat each of us and runs screaming from the room. Although Eric always says he hates these games the most, we all know he secretly loves them more than any of us. The rest of us follow him out of the room and get in our battle positions. However, it doesn’t take long for my phone to ring with a call from our tour manager to ruin the fun.
“Hey, shut up!” I yell at the band before answering the call. “What’s up, Jake?”
“Where are you idiots?!” I can hear Jake physically fuming from the other side of the phone. “You were supposed to be at the venue twenty minutes ago for soundcheck!”
I check my watch and wince, realizing he’s right. I hang up before Jake can get another word in. He loves to tell me how irresponsible I am, and I don’t want to hear it—now or ever.
“Game over!” I shout, corralling the guys towards the garage.
“Damn!” Eric complains. “I didn’t have a chance to day-drink or take my nap.”
I roll my eyes and push him out the door in the direction of the car. He can have a beer at the venue.
We roll up to the venue almost an hour late which, to no one’s surprise, makes Jake even more furious than he was before. Thankfully, we’re able to duck into our dressing room before he can fully explode on us.
After a smooth soundcheck, Eric and I start our pre-show warm up and Brandon and Tony go to grab a snack. This is my favorite part of doing a show—the moments before when it’s just me and the band doing our thing. No pressure from the crowd and no one feels like they need to be perfect.
In the middle of a run through of a song we’ll be playing tonight, Brandon returns with his sister, which is a surprise. She’s brought someone else with her, but we finish out the song before I bring myself to fully acknowledge them.
That’s when my whole world shifts.
Piercing green eyes. Chocolate brown hair. Pouty, fucking kissable lips with glowing skin that’s never had an imperfection and a blush that highlights her cheeks in just the right way. Beautiful… familiar. My heart stalls.
“Grayson, Eric,” Brandon calls over to us. “This is Rylee’s friend, Mia.”
I remember that name.
Mia Alexander.
She was literally the girl next door—or, across the street, rather. The one with the oversized glasses who used to sit on her porch while I played guitar. I haven’t thought about her in years, but now she’s standing right in front of me—grown, gorgeous, and still somehowfamiliarin a way that makes my chest ache and sends all the blood in my body rushing straight to my dick.
Damn. She’s more than beautiful. She’s fuckingexquisite.
It’s a ridiculous word, but the only one that comes to mind.
Rylee, who knows all of us well, gives me and Tony a hug before stepping back beside her friend and giving Eric a small nod of recognition. Mia settles for shaking our hands, but when she gets to me, I hold on to her hand for just a second too long.
I don’t want to let go.
I can’t think straight. There are so many things I want to say that never make it out of my mouth. My brain is still trying to catch up, and I’m almost lightheaded.
Has she noticed that just the sight of her has made me hard as a fucking rock?
Eric pulls me away, probably noticing the deer-in-the-headlights look on my face. Maybe he recognizes her, too. We did all grow up in the same town, after all.
“Hey, Gray?” he says, pulling me out of my daze. “Let’s go check on the stage set up or something.”
We end up leaving the room to watch the other opening act perform. Before I can get too into the song, Rylee grabs me by the shoulder, turning me to face her and pulling me a few feet away from the rest of the guys.
“So, you know Mia?” she asks. “You used to live across the street from her?”
“Yeah,” I reply simply, my brain still not firing on all cylinders. “I mean, we didn’t know each other super well or anything. She was more of my sister’s friend, but yeah.”
Just like that, Mia appears—a panicked look on her face like she’s worried Rylee will say something she shouldn’t. Before I have time to overthink it, I jog over to her, lift her in a hug, and spin her around.
“God, Mia,” I say into her shoulder. “Look at you—all grown up.”
