“Yes! After-party, here we come.” Benny grins. “You’re coming, right, Mercs?”
I shake my head. “Nah. Gonna stay focused. Maybe next time.”
He looks at me like I just kicked a puppy. Around him, the rest of the crew seem equally horrified.
Tank chuckles, gripping my shoulder. “Your loss, man.Luminousafter-parties are… next level. Those chicks know how to party. Don’t let the glitter fool you.”
Something tightens in my chest at that.
Effa flashes in my mind. That tiny blonde with a face full of paint, wearing a giraffe onesie, when I first met her. She looked sweet. Almost innocent.
But if she’s anything like the others…
Maybe I don’t want to see that side of her.
Maybe I’d rather keep the version of her I already have stuck in my head.
The version that claps when she’s impressed, smiles without shame, and seems like a fucking walking contradiction in the best way.
I’m probably being a dickhead, but I don’t care.
I like the Effa I met.
I’m not ready to see her differently.
“Right,” I say, clapping my hands once. “Enough chatter. Let’s finish this up.”
Everyone jumps back into motion. The night air is heavy with the lingering smoke from the show. The haze clings to everything—equipment, skin, thoughts. Music hums low through the overhead speakers as I turn toward the back of the stage, jaw set.
Effa flickers in my mind again.
But I’ve got work to do.
***
It’s eerie.
The crowd is gone.
The lights are out.
The stadium, once alive with sound and color, now sits in total silence. Just me and maybe the janitors, though right now, even they’re nowhere to be seen. It is a stark contrast from the full-throttle electricity of aLuminousshow to this empty, echoing shell.
Only the steady thump of my heartbeat cuts through the stillness.
I’m sprawled out on the sofa in the crew room, staring up at the dark ceiling, and wondering how the after-party’s going.
How wild is it getting?
Are the girls already half-naked on a table?
Is Effa grinding on some random guy in the VIP lounge?
Fuck! I hate that thought.
With a grunt, I reach for my phone and pull up the photo gallery. My thumb hovers over one of me with Kiera and Gran back home in Ligonier. We’re standing on the rickety old porch, that peeling white latticework still hanging on somehow. Kiera’s in her cheerleading uniform, all smiles and attitude.
That was before everything changed.
