Between the hot trackstar girl, my stalker, and now Gemma… shit.
I need to get behind my drum kit ASAP.
I have to get this feeling out.
“Gemma and Bonnie, sitting in a tree, F-U-C-K—”
I throw the bean bag sack at Reed’s taunting face, making the rest of the band laugh. “Fuck all of you,” I say, much to their amusement.
“But that was so adorable,” Reed taunts.
I flip him off.
“What I would give to be there when the two of you finally catch up,” Zeb teases me.
“Barely anything to catch up on,” I say as I change my shirt. “We never even spoke in high school.”
“Star-crossed lovers,” Zeb coos. “It’s a cute story.”
“I don’t think that’s what star-crossed lovers means,” I say.
“It’s like fate brought the two of you back together,” Reed adds, pushing on his Vans.
“Shut the fuck up.” I laugh nervously, feeling my cheeks heat. “Come on. It’s showtime. No more talk about my nonexistent love life.”
“Something tells me you’ll be remedying that later,” Reed says as we huddle together for our game.
“Fuck off, dude,” I shove him.
“Did you see the way she looked at you?” Reed asks. “She was definitely checking you out.”
“Of course she was. Look at me,” I say.
Though I’m fucking losing my mind trying to keep my smile contained.
“Alright, alright.” Zeb claps his hands together. “Let’s see who’s lost their skills over the last few months,” he says, referring to the hacky sack game we play before our shows. “You ready, fuckers?”
CHAPTER TWO
BONNIE
The wave.
The goddamn wave.
It’s illuminated by the stadium lights—fuckers as crazy as us, jumping up and down, on beat and off. From the platform, I can see the three pit circles, though there might be another further back.
I can’t even see as far as the crowd goes.
Sitting behind the drum kit is my favorite high… It’s the high that saved me from drowning beneath the numbness and hits of faux dopamine that the other drugs once gave me—even if some days, I miss that extra dose, that jump-off point when the voices disappear and the past feels like it never happened, and I’m so fucking fearless that not even the height of a skyscraper seems scary.
One fucking step.
That was a shitshow of a night.
Even so… feeling everything is a different high.
And performing on this stage, watching the guys work the crowd—especially Reed—I know I’m where I belong.
