I make my voice go low, and I lean closer and ask, “Do you want to?”
His mouth falls open, his face a mask of shock. Then he smiles, and that devilish glint appears in his eyes. “Fuck, yeah, I do.”
I don’t know if I just let the playfulness of it all take over, or if it was spurred on by his enthusiasm, but I respond with, “Good boy,” and instantly want to melt away and seep into thefloorboards.
I stutter, trying to think of some way to cover it, but Felix responds before I can. “Anything to make Daddy proud,” he coos with a bat of his lashes.
Fuck. Me.
Neither of us says a word as we stare at each other, the sexual tension radiating between us like a physical force, when the band walks on stage, and the crowd goes nuts.
It pulls both of us out of the horny cloud we were just living in, and I take the opportunity to steer things back to “friends.”
God, I hate that word.
“Come on.” I take his hand in mine and lead him to the crowd. “Let’s push our way to the front!” With our fingers threaded together, I guide Felix through the mob and directly in front of the lead singer, Xavier.
Xavier starts speaking the intro toJesus Built My Hotrod,and I let loose a full-throated roar. It’s one of my favorite songs, and they freaking annihilate it every single time.
Felix laughs, and I pull him close. “When the guitar hits, this place is going to erupt. When they do, just start jumping. I’ll be sure to block you from the assholes behind us.”
He looks behind me, a slightly nervous expression on his face, then grins and nods. As predicted, the place goes insane once the guitar rips, and we all start jumping.
The song accelerates, and the people behind us start moshing. Felix looks at them wide-eyed, and I instinctively move my body between him and the pit. Someone collides into my back, tossing me forward a bit, but I maintain my balance.
I thank my lucky stars that he bumped into me and not Felix. The very front of the crowd, right before the stage, is less wild than the middle, so the two of us jump and thrash about tothe fast tempo. Felix’s hesitancy evaporates, and, soon, he’s whipping his arms, spinning in circles, and screaming at the top of his lungs.
I cheer him on because I know how good it feels just to move your body and let it out. When Tobias and I first freed ourselves from the Kays, we used to crank heavy metal music in the abandoned apartment building we squatted in and throw our bodies around. When pain has lived inside you for so long, the only way to work it out sometimes is just to move your body and shake it out.
The band plays on, the next song just as heavy as the last, and Felix is in his element. You’d never know the kid was the son of Belmont’s Mayor. Between the fishnets, boots, and his attitude, he looks like a sexy, gay goth who has a thing for motorcycles.
And maybe that’s who Felix really is.
The audience behind us looks like the blob, a mass of people moving about in waves. They’re packed in like sardines, not a space between them.
Perfect.
Felix is still thrashing about like a maniac, so I tap him on the shoulder to get his attention. “Follow me!” I take his hand in mine and lead him onto the stage.
Xavier wraps his arm around me and yells, “Torren Kay is on the stage, fuckers.”
Everyone cheers, and I look at Felix and yell, “You ready?”
“For what?” He asks.
I waggle my brows and say, “Just do what I do.”
I leap off the stage and land in the arms of the crowd. They hold me up, and I move about them like I’m riding a wave. “JUMP, FELIX!”
He looks terrified, but then he takes a deep breath, screams at the top of his lungs, and leaps.
The crowd lifts him into the air, and I can hear him laugh from where I am.
“Get me closer to him,” I yell to the people below.
I move in Felix’s direction, and he reaches out to grab my hand. We connect and ride the current of hands that keep us hoisted in the air for the rest of the song.
I look at Felix and see tears falling down his face. I panic, then realize he’s laughing so hard that he’s made himself cry.
