The crowd screams louder as each song finishes and a new one begins. I see signs painted for me and only me by people who call themselves my fans, with tears streaming down their faces.
"Thank you so much to everybody who came down a little earlier tonight to see me play. My name is Olive Herring, and this song is calledSpeechless."
Once those words leave my lips, I see Josie sneak to the front row, doing her best to get Avery’s attention, but it’s like he’s in a trance as he watches me. His mouth open, his eyes twinkling, his fingers threaded while on his lap.
No phone, just totally in the moment.
Then Josie whispers to him, and he blinks, jaw snapping shut as he realizes he’s been caught.
Nodding once, he follows her to the back of the stadium, right as the last chord plays out and the stage turns pitch black.
I make it to my dressing room, desperate for some solace, but when I open the doors, I find Avery and Josie.
He’s seated on the black leather couch, and she’s resting on my vanity, without a single word being shared between them.
The tension is palpable.
"Hi." He clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable being in a space with people he doesn’t know.
"Do you guys mind? I need to change." I hold the door open for both of them, and Avery scrambles to his feet, but my manager holds her hand up to stop him in his tracks.
"I need to go over the plan with you for the gala," Josie tells me, a silent urge in her voice, but I shake my head.
"That’s in two weeks. We have time. I’m gross and sweaty. I need out of these clothes and into something comfortable. So,please. Just give me five minutes."
She reluctantly agrees, and they both leave the dressing room.
The door slams behind them, and I sigh a huge breath of relief, but I only allow myself a minute until I’m out of my jeans and tank top, and into sweatpants and a jumper.
Just as I’m opening the door, Avery is there, looking toward Josie over his shoulder, his fist raised in front of him to knock, and he does.
Against my chest.
He turns the reddest I think I’ve ever seen a human turn.
"Fuck," he hisses. "I didn’t—"
"So, I guess that’s one thing I can tick off my ‘Get to know Avery Jones’list," I say with a wink.
"And what’s that,Olivia?" He rests a shoulder against the wooden door frame of my dressing room, his arms crossed over his chest.
"That you’re a boob man. Would’ve picked you for an ass man myself, but both of mine are probably above average, so I can’t blame you." I tip toe to get closer to his ear before I whisper, "Ifyou wanted to touch my boobs, Avery, all you had to do was ask. I might’ve said yes, but I guess we’ll never know." I take a step back with a cheeky smirk, and the redness from his face settles on his cheeks.
"God, are you always this annoying?" he asks under his breath for only me to hear, and I nod excitedly.
"Absolutely. And according to my manager, you and I are about to spendallof our free time together. So, baby, you better get used to it."
I woke up this morning stressed and so incredibly scared of what was to come for the day.
Medication.
Interviews with questions that were off limits.
Playing another sold-out show for the third time this week.
What I didn’t expect, however, was to suddenly find my future husband, incredibly annoying, and stupidly attractive at the same time.
But here we are.
