While Scarlet Failure and the other band, Haunted Dreams, do their soundchecks, I walk around the club, getting a feel of the place before it’s filled with screaming fans. This is the last show of their tour so naturally, it’s sold out. I can hear the fans buzzing outside while I check out the merch table without anyone pushing or shoving me.
Something hums inside me remembering how yesterday I was on the outside, standing in line before the doors opened to be one of the first inside and stand right in front of the stage. My only goal was to catch a guitar pick and maybe land a setlist. Not only did those wishes come true, but I also nailed the bass player.
Goosebumps break out on my arms, the kind of exhilaration that feels almost otherworldly, like I'm floating, weightless in the moment. I tug on the lanyard of my backstage pass hanging around my neck, the thrill of it all sinking in. This is definitely going on my wall in my room when I get back, right next to Scarlet Failure’s signed setlist and guitar pick. Maybe I’ll even frame it in a shadowbox to make it extra special.
When the doors open, I hideout backstage and feel the anticipation whirling in the air, becoming more alive as each minute ticks by. I watch the show from the side stage. Even though they play the same setlist as last night, I still rock out but try not to draw too much attention from those working the stage or security.
Girls scream at Sully as he rips into his solo. He throws them picks and they dive for them like they’re gold coins.
It’s insane how last night I was one of those girls, and now I’m watching them from afar like I belong to Sully somehow.
A girl in the front looks around frantically and frowns. She must not have found a pick. Sully notices and nudges Lars, nodding to the girl. Lars struts over and points at the girl. She locks eyes on him and jumps eagerly up and down with her hand outstretched. He flicks a black guitar pick her way, and she catches it, smiling ear to ear.
Sully turns around, and when our eyes meet, he winks. My chest heaves like it did last night when he handed me my pick. I hope thisfeeling never stops. The way he looks at me makes me feel like I’m the only woman alive.
10
It’shardtothinkas blood whooshes in my ears when Sully walks off stage and kisses my lips. He’s sweaty from playing under all these hot lights, but I want to kiss him on stage until all those fangirls cry.
Charlotte ties her long hair into a ponytail and takes a drink from her water bottle. She touches my upper arm and smiles. “You like the show the second time around?”
“Yes.” I fiddle with the backstage pass around my neck. “I loved seeing all the behind-the-scenes stuff, and of course, your band was amazing.”
A smile plays on her lips. “Maybe better than last night?” she says, her laugh gentle and low, a warm sound that lingers in the air. Ben walks over, wiping his face with a white towel. He grabs Charlotte’s ass and kisses her. She lets out a soft giggle, and together, they disappear into the room reserved for artists backstage.
Lars walks over biting an apple. “Is backstage everything you thought it would be?”
“There’s more tripping hazards than I thought,” I joke, motioning to all the wires being coiled up by the stagehands.
“We’re about to leave in twenty minutes. I’m sure you and Sully will find something to do,” Lars chuckles and takes another bite from his apple.
The members of Haunted Dreams come by saying their goodbyes and walk out into the night air. I can hear fans outside waiting; they’re talking excitedly.
Sully tugs on the neckline of his new clean blue shirt. “Ready? We can grab dinner unless you’d rather return to the hotel?” His eyes trail along my body slowly as he takes in every curve.
I hook my arms around his neck and kiss his lips. “We have all night. Let’s start with some food and see where it takes us.”
Charlotte, Ben, and Lars join us, all wearing fresh clothes and secret smiles.
“Ready to meet the fans?” Charlotte asks, opening the door.
A group of about forty people swarm in like a flash flood.
The members of Scarlet Failure move effortlessly to meet their fans in smaller groups—Charlotte with her warm, practiced smile, greeting everyone like she’s known them forever. Ben and Lars jump straight into jokes and selfies, already laughing with fans like they’re old friends.
I stand there, frozen for a second, trying to keep up. The noise hits me first—voices, laughter, camera clicks, all layered over one another in a dizzying mess. I don’t know where to look or what to do with my hands.
No one’s looking at me, and yet I feel completely exposed.
I force a smile, hoping it doesn’t look as awkward as it feels. My heart’s pounding, and I’m suddenly hyper-aware of everything—my clothes, myposture, the way I’m breathing. This isn’t just backstage anymore. This is the other side of the glass, and I’m supposed to belong here.
But right now? I’m not so sure I do.
I look over to Sully. He’s reserved, standing still like he’s in pain, and told he’s not allowed to leave. His eyes meet mine and I wander over.
“I can take the picture,” I say to a fan snapping a million selfies with Sully.
“Thanks.” She thrusts the phone into my hand and wraps her arm around Sully’s waist. He doesn’t smile, just stares ahead with his arm extended behind her back, not touching her anywhere.
