BONNIE
My throat israw from screaming. I’m sticky with sweat and humidity. The high from watching Reed perform onstage with one of our favorite bands has me amped even more than last night’s show did.
“Hot,” Zeb says, entering my trailer. “Are you planning on wearing pants over that?”
I grin and look down at the long sleeve bodysuit I’m wearing and the way it’s cut high on my hips, showing off more of my ass and pelvis than is probably appropriate for public.
“Thought about going without,” I admit as he tosses his bag on the counter beside me. “But I have those baggy pants over there and an ass begging me to wear them unbuttoned.”
Zeb chuckles. “Yeah, okay.” He straightens his hooded shirt in the illuminated vanity mirror as if he’s making sure it shows off enough of his heavily tattooed chest.
“Did you catch the last performance?” I ask him, adjusting the black wig on my head.
“I caught it from the VIP area. Fucking epic,” he agrees. “Reed living the dream up there. I saw you standing on the barrier screaming,” he adds.
“Had to cheer my guy on,” I say. I tug at my wig and peer closer at my lashes. One of them feels like it’s sticking, and I need to fix it because it’ll drive me fucking wild tonight. “I tried to get Wren up there, but…”
I smile at the memory.
“What, she try to kill you?” Zeb asks.
“Nah… She had tears,” I tell him. “I mean, so did Andi, but you know with Wren, it’s a big deal. I’m sure they’re celebratinghardtonight.”
“Yeah? What about you? Are you ready to celebrate?”
“Fuck yes,” I groan.
“You know I can still see your blonde hair under this,” he says, swatting at the black wig.
“Yeah, I’m going for the layered look,” I say, though it’s really just because my hair is so thick, and I only had a few pins, so I could only pin half of my hair up.
“Did you straighten it?” Zeb asks. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it this…shiny.”
“That’s because it’s naturally wavy and out of control like the rest of me,” I reply.
“Ha. I know that’s right.” He unzips his bag and begins pulling out our masks. “I’m going with this one,” he says, gesturing to the black full-face mask with neon red accents.
“Classic,” I reply. I filter through his choices and gravitate toward a black leather half-mask with apocalypse vibes. “I like this one—oh wait.” Another catches my eye, and I smirk at him as I pull the strappy leather mask out. Small link chains dangle over the eyes as I grip onto one of the pointed cat ears. “I’ll take this one.”
“I thought you might like it. Get your pants on. I’ll buckle this around your face,” he says.
It’s another twenty minutes before he and I head out of the trailer toward the massive party. I can already hear themusic, see the strobe and neon lights illuminating the area. The link chains swishing over my eyes don’t exactly give the best visibility, but I don’t really need to see much tonight.
Because I have every intention of losing myself.
As we reach the gate, Zeb pulls his mask down over his face, pushes his hood up, and fist bumps me one more time.
“If you need me—” He points to his phone, and I only nod in response.
I’m nervous, yet already intoxicated by the lights and thumping music.
Here we fucking go.
Music is nearly as powerful a drug and aphrodisiac as more than half the things I’ve ever tried—at least, on nights like tonight—in parties and clubs like this. When I can feel the thump and drag and vibration deep in my bones. When it’s so consuming that I can’t focus on the people and faces around me. When the lights and smoke cloud and dull the senses. All that matters at this moment is the next jump off the ground or sway of my hips, the next body to slide behind me to try and sneak in a few quick grinds before I shove them off.
It’s a fun game, especially when everyone is anonymous.
And so fucking sexy.
