“CanI take this damn blindfold off now?” Ariah whines, and I think I hear her mumble, “I swear I hate surprises. I’m still reeling from the NirvanaIn Uterosigned and framed CD.”
My cheeks raise into a smile. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw it. It’s another thing I’ll need to thank Colt for later. I don’t bother responding, though. She can’t hear me anyway. The earplugs I had her put in ensure she has no idea what’s coming and have her shouting. Every time she tries to talk, I stifle a laugh.
The level of trust she’s gifted me, to not only blindfold her and take away her hearing but also lead her where she needs to go safely, is humbling.
Ariah doesn’t trust easily— she’s been burned too many times.
I breathe her in, enjoying the scent of jasmine and rose filling the air of the armed SUV. I don’t know what perfume she’s wearing, but I’m buying the company.
Resting my chin on the top of her head, I sigh, feeling the most contented I’ve been.
“I know you hear me! I might not be able to hear you, but you can hear me, and I can tell you’re laughing, you freaking jerk,” she snarks, and I tickle her sides, her sassy comments morphing into peels of laughter until she’s snorting.
“I’m going to kill you for making me snort, Wyatt Grant. Mark my words, you’re a dead man walking,” she shouts, causing a laugh to rumble in my chest.
We pull up outside of Jacobi Arena.The sound of music can be heard from the private entrance. She’s going to flip when she sees this lineup.
I’ll have to thank Coop and Colt, again, for the VIP access.
Thomas pulls the door open, allowing me to ease from Ariah and step outside before I turn around to help her climb out, using the opportunity to hold her around her waist and pull her flush against me. My hands linger on the exposed flesh of her stomach as I enjoy watching color bloom up her neck— my touch having the desired effect.
A cough slows my movements. “They have the private cabana ready. For security purposes, you should take the blindfold off here,” Thomas suggests.
I nod in agreement, and he turns out to look at the crowd, giving us another moment of privacy.
My hands travel up her abdomen, teasing at the exposed skin until I reach the earplugs. Gently, I remove one and softly speak into her ear, “Here’s to a night of just being young and carefree.”
Leaning forward, I kiss her neck, removing the other plug and mask from her eyes.
“Oh. My. Fucking. God!” The squeal she expels almost has me covering my ears. But she turns, thrusting her arms around me.
“Is this real? Are we really here?” she asks in between peppering me with her lips.
I could stay like this forever.
“Yes,” I state, feeling nothing more needs to be said.
She grabs my hand and makes a mad dash toward the stage.
“Slow down, Love. We’re over here.”
I tug her in the direction of our seats, still watching the sway of her hips.She’s so damn intoxicating. Not just the sensuality of her movements but her excitement— utterly enthralling. I’m fucking rock hard, my dick pressing uncomfortably against the zipper of my jeans at her giddiness.
Once we reach the cabana, she lets go of my hand and spins to take in the stage, ignoring all the lavish amenities, choosing instead to take in the first act.
“That’s fucking Good Charlotte,” she screams over the music pumping through the crowd.
“I know.”I’m so verbose tonight.
Her neck cranes, not wanting to miss a thing, but I can tell she has something to say. The words look like they want to burst from her lips, so I step into her back.
“I’ve always wanted to come here. Dad and I would go to concerts every time he came home,” her voice cracks. “We were supposed to come here the summer he went missing.”
I wrap my arms around her, bringing her into me. I don’t want to lie to her and act surprised because I know. So I stay quiet. Again, enjoying being able to just be— no Selection process, no annoying Sam or fucked up secret society bullshit.We just are.
“Thank you,” she whispers. A lone tear leaks from her glossy eyes, and I reach my thumb up and wipe it away.
That’s how we stay, listening to band after band— Evanescence, Nine Inch Nails, Lauryn Hill, Tribe Called Quest, and Pierce the Veil, to name a few. Eventually, we make our way backstage, and she nearly faints countless times with each musician she meets. She has more signed band tees than I can count. I made sure to buy her two of each so she could wear the ones not signed.
