CHAPTER 24
Xayden
The dressing roomfeels too small, too quiet, the hum of the crowd outside barely audible through the walls. My leg bounces as I sit on the edge of the couch, twirling a drumstick between my fingers, restless energy coiling tighter in my chest. The others are scattered, prepping in their own ways—West tuning his guitar, Todd pacing near the door, Jake standing stiffly by the mirror, his reflection as tense as his posture.
I don’t miss the way Jake keeps glancing at me. It’s only a matter of time before he speaks up. I’m not surprised when he finally sets his water bottle down and stalks over, his muted musk sharp and cutting—green tea and sage laced with irritation.
“Xayden,” he says, his tone low but loaded.
I glance up, smirking lazily as I lean back on the couch. “What’s up, Jake?”
“You know damn well what’s up.” His arms cross over his chest, his eyes narrowing. “You pushed it too far with Ashlyn today, and you know it.”
My smirk doesn’t falter. “What? The kiss?” I twirl the drumstick again, letting it clatter onto the table. “We want to make it real. I gave her a reason to pretend.”
“You didn’t do it for her—you did it for yourself.”
I stand, closing the space between us in one easy stride. “Yeah, I did,” I say, my voice dropping lower, cutting. “I did it because I wanted to. Because I’m not going to pretend I don’t want her.”
Jake doesn’t back down, his eyes locking on mine. “This isn’t just about what you want, Xayden. We have to do it the right way; you’re going to make it complicated.”
“Complicated?” I laugh, the sound bitter. “You think this isn’t already complicated? She’s our scent match, Jake. We thought we lost her years ago, and now she’s here, right in front of us. You expect me to just sit back and ignore it?”
His silence speaks volumes, but I push on. “You’re so busy trying to protect her that you’re not even letting her feel what’s real. Maybe she doesn’t need someone holding her hand. Maybe she needs someone to remind her she’s ours.”
Jake’s eyes darken, but before he can respond, the knock on the door comes, abrupt and quick. “Five minutes,” a voice calls from the hallway.
Jake steps back, his jaw tight as he exhales. “Just think about what you’re doing,” he mutters before turning away.
I watch him go, a flicker of guilt trying to work its way in, but I shove it aside. He doesn’t get it.
The chaos backstagehums around me—models being herded into place, crew members shouting over the din—but none of it registers. My focus zeroes in on her. Ashlyn. She stands justoffstage, her posture tight as she directs the flow of people around her.
She doesn’t see me at first, too caught up in her role, but her perfume hits me before I reach her—sweet and warm, with just the faintest edge of nerves. It pulls me in like it always does, my steps slowing as I close the distance between us.
“Hey,” I murmur, leaning in close enough for my voice to carry over the noise.
She startles slightly, her head snapping up to look at me. For a second, her guard slips, and I catch the flicker of surprise—and something else—in her eyes. Then she schools her expression, her lips pressing into a thin line.
“Xayden,” she says, her tone cautious, like she’s bracing for whatever I might say. “You should be getting ready.”
“I am ready.” I grin, stepping closer. Her perfume swells just slightly, sweet and flustered, and it makes my chest tighten in the best way. “I just need one thing before I go.”
She narrows her eyes, her suspicion as keen as her voice. “And what’s that?”
I let my grin soften, my voice dropping low enough that only she can hear. “A kiss for good luck.”
Her cheeks flush, and her fingers curl slightly like she wishes she had something to hold onto. “Xayden,” she warns, her tone laced with exasperation, but there’s no real heat behind it.
“It’s just for luck,” I say, my tone playful but insistent, taking another step closer. “Come on, sweetheart. You can’t send me out there without some kind of charm. I’ll be thinking about you the whole time anyway.”
Her lips part like she’s about to argue, but the words don’t come. Instead, she sighs, the tension in her shoulders easing just slightly as she tilts her head up. “Fine. But just for luck.”
She leans in, her movements tentative, and for a second, I think she might back out. But then her lips brush against mine,soft and fleeting, the contact barely there but enough to make my pulse thunder in my ears.
It’s over in an instant, but the sweetness of her scent surges, warm and intoxicating, and I can smell the way her nerves spike beneath it. She pulls back, her cheeks flushed, her eyes darting away like she doesn’t want me to see just how much that small kiss affected her.
“Good luck,” she murmurs, her voice quieter now, softer.
