I freeze. My teammates shift, some shooting me looks I can’t read. My chest is tight. I haven’t slept in days, not since I pulled that damn song back into my rotation, and now I’m hallucinating. The crowd, and the noise, and the sleeplessness have all finally taken their toll.
I need some air. Some space to breathe…Something.
Muttering an excuse, I tear myself away and slip out. AJ yells after me, asking about going backstage, but I quicken my steps until I’m running through the stadium halls.
A security guard points me towards the back exit, the team bus waiting to haul us away from the chaos. By the time I’m halfway there, the crowd’s already flooding into the parking structure. The concert’s over.
I’m climbing the steps when someone shouts my name. I turn, expecting AJ or one of the guys chasing me down.
But it’s not.
It’s him. Jesse Moore. Charging out the back door of the arena, callingmyname.
My legs stutter, but I stop, rooted, as he closes the distance. Shirt thrown on, unbuttoned, billowing with his stride and showing off his abs, chest, and the edge of a tattoo that makes my fingertips tingle.
And then he’s right there. Just a few feet away.
My eyes drag away from the familiar ink, and I look up into unmistakable, impossible, bright green eyes.
It’s actually…him.
FIVE
LUC
He says my name again, his voice sounding like it’s coming through a tunnel before it sharpens. I blink at the familiar smoky rasp of his voice.
“Luc.”
It’s breathless, but certain. Like he’s been saying it for years. I just couldn’t hear him.
He stops before he’s within arm’s reach but looks poised to move closer. All the times I’ve imagined an impossible moment like this, and I don’t know what to do. I feel weighted to the spot, my feet glued to the pavement and tingling with the absurd instinct to run. Towards him? Away from him? I don’t know. My brain feels fuzzy, overloaded with thoughts yet not quite able to process them.
I’ve forgotten how to move. All I can do is stare at the man standing before me. It’s no wonder I didn’t recognize him right away. He’s changed a lot. The guy I remember from that night was barely an adult, compared to the man he is now. His physique is still wiry, but more filled out than he was six yearsago. His shaggy hair, which was dark back then, is longer and dyed a smoky silver color that makes his black-rimmed eyes look wild. His face is more angular and serious rather than carefree and playful. He’s almost unrecognizable from the young, flirty guy I remember from the beach, skin and bright eyes reflecting the light of the fire.
Except his mouth. His mouth is the same. The slight curve of a knowing smile. Those lips.
Something knocks loose and rattles around in my chest as I try to breathe normally.
“Hi,” he says, then laughs like he can’t believe that’s what came out of his mouth first. “Holy shit. It’s really you.”
I clear my throat. “Yeah, I– Uh…” I reach for something solid, anything that doesn’t make me look like the bumbling idiot I’ve become. “I–It’s Jesse, right?”
His eyes flicker. Is it possible that he feels the same way I do about hearing my name come out of his mouth? Is he still processing that we’re standing right in front of each other? Did he ever wonder if it was all a dream?
“Jesse,” he confirms, like he’s introducing himself for the first time.
Not sure what else to do, I reach out my hand to shake his, then pull it back because I realize how sweaty my palms are. I awkwardly rake my hand through my hair. “I’m Luc.”
“Luc,” he repeats, and I get that same feeling again–that he’s said my name before. His raspy voice curls around it, elongating the end like a hiss. The sound sends a shiver down my spine.
Somewhere behind Jesse, a door bangs open, popping the bubble around us. I’m suddenly aware of the noise of the crowd leaving the stadium, thousands of people pouring into the night. A man wearing a snug black shirt and black cargo pants steps outside and leans against the wall, thumbing through his phone. He doesn’t look at us twice, and neither do the couple of security guards that are walking by to monitor the entrance to the loading dock, where our bus is waiting.
“Bodyguard,” Jesse says, gesturing towards the man in black. “He won’t bother us.”
This is too surreal.
He’s sweaty and still catching his breath. After the show he just put on, and then running after me, I’m not surprised. “I ran,” he says, laughing a little breathlessly, swiping his hair back from his forehead. “When I saw you leave, I–I thought I’d miss you and I didn’t know how else to see you again.”
