“Crew?” Zeb repeats.
“He probably thinks we need an entire team at this point,” I say.
“Considering the last few years…” James huffs amusedly. “Whole army, honestly.”
Reed says something that makes James chuckle again, but I barely hear their conversation as another tattooed, muscled guy falls in step after James, and then behind him…
Fuck.
My gut empties, chest heating.
Itisher.
“Guys, this is Gemma Thomas,” James says. “Your new security lead. Gemma… This is Young Decay.”
Gemma Thomas.
The last time we were in the same room, we were seventeen and at a friend’s graduation party. The two of us avoided one another as if looking at the other for more than a few seconds might make one of us burst into flames. She used to wear her dark curly hair in a tight half-ponytail, with silver oval metal-frame glasses that did nothing for her face shape. I always thought she was so pretty—shy, good girl, honor roll, computer wiz…
Fucking hell,now?!
Universe help me.
I might cry.
How is this the same person?
She’s wearing combat boots and black cargo pants that the curves of her firm hips seem to be straining against. The black “SECURITY” tee she’s wearing is snug on her muscled biceps, showing off the freckles and tattoos dotted along her light golden-brown skin.
I can hardly stop staring at her thick, strong legs.
God, her fucking legs…
I wonder if she can crush a watermelon with those things—or maybe my head.
Yeah, fuck that.
I wonder if the view from beneath them is as spectacular as this one.
Shit.
I seriously need to get fucking laid.
Her long, loose ringlet hair is bouncy today and pushed over to her left shoulder. I can see streaks of burgundy embedded in the dark strands that I hadn’t seen in any of her social media photos, and I grip the drumsticks in my hands to keep myself from fidgeting too much.
“How’s it going?” Gemma asks casually.
A smile licks at Reed’s lips as he glances, very obviously, over his shoulder at me, before then extending his hand to Gemma. “Reed,” he introduces himself. “I hope you brought your running shoes.”
Gemma scoffs, throws the hoodie she had draped over her arm to a nearby chair so she can shake his hand. “So I was told.” She exchanges a look with James, who smirks at her before she addresses the rest of us. “I just wanted to come backstage and meet all of you before the show. My partners, Kade and Liam, will be at the Radio Eleven festival with us, but I plan on introducing them to all of you when we’re together for the album lock-ins next week.”
Her gaze moves around the room until it lands on me, and when it does, air escapes my lungs.
Those bright, golden hazel eyes might be the goddamn death of me.
They have me in such a fix that I hardly notice the fine line leaf tattoo creeping up from her neck to in front of her ear.
I can’t think straight. I can’t even bring myself to fidget with my drumsticks.
