As our two lovers shook hands, Morris stared at me, his eyes inscrutable.
I had to wonder what he was thinking. Was I betraying Harper's memory by dating someone else? Was he worried I'd get hurt just like last time? Was he happy for me, proud of me, that I'd finally moved on?
You could rarely tell with Morris.
"Fraternizing, hm?" was all he said.
"Guess so." I met his stare head on, not backing down. Everyone knew sleeping with a band member was a bad idea, but I didn't care. It was different with me and Liam.
Morris's lips quirked into the barest of smiles. "Good for you."
I returned his smile, relieved he approved. Not that I needed his approval, but he was one of my oldest friends. His support meant a lot to me.
"Ohmigod," Natalie said, eyes wide with recognition. "You're LiamKnight." Her breathing turned labored and heavy.
"Nat's got a thing for rock stars," Morris said wryly.
She let out a small squeak. "I don't mean to freak out. I just reallyreallyliked your band." All traces of sophistication left her as she gaped at Liam.
"Thanks.” His smile almost sad. "It's good to meet a fan."
"I was so upset when you guys broke up, I think I cried for three days while playing your albums on repeat a billion times—"
"Nat," Morris said gently.
She snapped her jaw shut with a flush.
"She gets a bit exuberant sometimes," Morris said with an indulgent look. "That's why I love her."
They shared a sappy smile. Normally it would have made me blanch with discomfort. Now, with Liam by my side, I only felt happy for them.
"The concert is starting soon," Morris said once he pulled his attention away from his girlfriend. "You three go ahead. I'm helping the kids backstage."
Morris looked directly at me, capturing my gaze.
"Make sure Nat gets a a front row seat?" His voice carried a heavy weight.
"Sure." I blinked at his odd tone. "Front and center."
He nodded and left.
"Let's get going," I said. I assumed Morris was up to something, even if I didn't know exactly what, and I wanted to take my duty seriously.
The youth center had a small gymnasium with a raised platform at the far end they used for events like this. Some volunteers had set up rows of cheap and dented aluminum folding chairs to face the stage. People were already trickling in.
I hurried to snag four chairs right in the middle of the front row, three for us and one saved for when Morris got back.
“Morris really loves those kids,” Natalie said as we took our seats. “I think that little rock band did more for him than he even realizes. He’s such a caretaker type, you know?”
He always had been. Morris and Harper had been the self-appointed mom and dad of our neighborhood. They would take neglected kids under their wings, make sure to keep them away from trouble like gangs and drugs.
They used to joke about which one of them was the mom.
“Yeah,” I said, a lump forming in my throat. “He is.”
I caught sight of the ticket girl, Anya, the one hiding behind her hair. Her little face peeped out from behind a makeshift backstage curtain hung between two rolling coat racks. The poor thing looked nervous, still ducking her head so her hair covered half her face.
A shy lead singer. It wasn’t unheard of. Some of the most reticent musicians came alive on stage.
