He didn’t want to give in to the anxiety attack. The past wasn’t allowed to get the best of him anymore. Not here. “No. I’m okay.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah.”
Lincoln let go of his chin, but stayed close, and Dom loved him for that. Everything was so easy with Lincoln. Instinctive.
Onstage, Anthony was saying something about the audience and the ballot handed out on arrival. “We’ve tallied your votes, and the winning band will be invited to share the stage with me tonight.”
“Wait, what?” Dom asked.
“All of the regular attendees were given ballots when they checked in at the gate,” Tyson explained. “It had every competing band on it, and they voted for who they wanted to see perform tonight as the special guest act.”
“Shit, really?” Dom’s gut twisted. With ten acts in eight categories, XYZ had a one in eighty chance of being chosen, but he wasn’t ready. He couldn’t possibly get up on that fucking stage tonight.
“Dude, breathe,” Lincoln said.
“Performing tonight by popular demand,” Anthony said, “and by a margin of two votes, is Fading Daze!”
Dom’s heart fluttered.
“Fuck me,” Lincoln snapped. “Really?”
Dom ignored his friend’s annoyance and watched Trey disappear through the crowd. He silently cheered for Trey’s victory. Dom had never seen Fading Daze perform, but he knew how talented Trey was. They would be amazing.
He tracked Trey across the stage, watching him pick out a bass guitar and strap it on. The group conferred briefly with Anthony, who took to the mike and asked, “How do you folks feel about a little Taylor Swift?”
Cheers and screams answered the question.
Anthony settled in next to Bobby with his own guitar, and Danielle stepped up to the mike. Her cheeks were flushed, obvious even from a distance. “Thank you!” she said. “Tay’s my girl crush, so I hope y’all enjoy yourselves.”
More cheers and hoots.
Andy laid out the beat, and Danielle launched into a gorgeous cover of “Cruel Summer,” working the crowd with seductive smiles and head tilts. Trey backed her up on the chorus, their voices blending together perfectly. They sang to each other on those parts, and yeah, Dom could see how people mistook them for a couple.
Except Trey was his.
They segued perfectly from Taylor into Katy’s “Last Friday Night,” with Danielle still on lead. Then Trey took over vocals on “Marry You,” turning into Bruno Mars without the pair missing a beat. If Dom hadn’t already known Trey was queer, he’d have been shipping Trey and Danielle all night long.
Listening to Trey sing was making Dom horny as hell, too.
Fading Daze rounded out their set by covering one of Anthony’s signature songs, and the crowd went nuts. Dom and Tyson cheered, because yeah, they were good. Hella good. Maybe even first-place good.
“Fading Daze, ladies and gentlemen!” Anthony said.
The foursome took a bow. Dom had never seen Trey happier or more alive than in that moment. He’d been born to perform, and despite Dom’s own looming deadline for success, he really hoped Fading Daze won the top spot and moved to the national competition.
“We’ll be back tomorrow morning at nine thirty to get this competition going!” Anthony announced. “Party on, Midatlantic!”
Recorded music blasted over the sound system, and the crowd fractured. A dance area formed closer to the stage, and others drifted back through the grandstand to the food and beverages. Dom wanted to wade through the crowd and congratulate Trey on how awesome he’d been onstage, but he couldn’t. Not on purpose.
He grabbed Lincoln and tugged him toward the dancers. He hadn’t been out dancing in ages, and he found the beat easily. Lincoln draped his arms over Dom’s shoulders, rolling his hips and dancing along. Fun and easy between friends. Tyson, Benji, and Joshua joined them, and a few girls insinuated themselves into the cluster of hotness.
Dom ignored the occasional glare or grimace tossed their way. He’d stopped giving a fuck what people thought about him being gay years ago, because fuck their ignorance. He wasn’t letting other people control how he lived his life, and tonight he was getting down with his best friend and bandmates.
Someone brought him an Unbound Bomb, and he gulped the cold liquid. It briefly helped with the heat and narrowed his focus on the guy he was dancing with. Tyson. When had that happened? A bottle in a paper bag got passed to him. He sniff-checked it, decided rum, and took a slug. It burned down his throat, and he followed it with a second. If he couldn’t be with Trey, he could still have a fucking good time.
Lincoln was there, so it was safe to let loose.
