“Trust me. My confidence is overwhelming. I don’t need you to tell me I’m attractive. I know I am—“ I pause. “What’s your name?”
She laughs. “Okay, Mr. Confident. You’re a smidge better than my ex.” She tucks a strand of wavy blonde hair behind her ear. “My name’s Vivienne.”
“Well, Vivienne,” I coax. “Since I’m only a smidge better than your ex, which we both know is a lie, will you take a photo with me?”
“A photo?”
“Yeah. Let’s take a pre-concert photo together.” I press, casually trying to act like it’s completely normal.
She opens her mouth to protest, but I cut her off. “I bet it would make him jealous.” I give her my best smolder, allowing my icy blue eyes to penetrate right through the wall she’s trying to put between us.
After a few seconds, she reaches in her bag for the phone, then swipes it open to a social media app. Handing it over, she smiles. “I love a petty post. Why not?”
I take it from her, then clear my throat. That was easier than I expected, given her initial hesitation. “Come over here and stand in front of me,” I instruct, leaning against the wall to use it as a backdrop for our photo.
She follows my direction, leaving too much space between us. I grab her by the waist with one hand, enjoying the way her body melts against mine. I have to think wholesome, unsexy thoughts to keep my dick from reacting. And it’s consuming all my focus. Once I get myself under control, I hold up the phone for a selfie, my mask photobombing as I drape my arm around her, leaning in close.
“Look at me,” I say, analyzing the reflection on the screen.
My finger is positioned over the button, ready to snap a bunch of photos. “Good,” I praise her. “Keep looking at me. I’m going to look back at you. Don’t look into the camera. Eyes stay on me. Do you understand?”
“Okay.”
I position myself, then drop my eyes to return a smoldering gaze waiting for it to decimate her final layer of protection. The moment a shy smile stretches across her lips, I capture the photo. Bringing it closer to my face, I examine it. Satisfied it’s perfect, I add a caption.
Backstage with my new man @CasWilder
I add our most trending song, make sure the tag to my account stuck, and press post to her stories before she can see it and stop me. I can’t risk her seeing the tag.
I hand the phone back, kiss her on the cheek, then take a step away. “I’ve got to get back there, but I’d like to see you again after the show.”
With one last wink, I put my mask on and walk down the hall to prepare for the show.
Chapter four
My stroll back to the VIP table at the front of the stage is a blur; I move on autopilot, my head floating in the clouds while tunneling through the crowds of people who swarm the venue. Roxy said it was a sold-out show. I scan the other VIP tables, flitting over groups of friends, couples, and empty chairs.
“Vi!” Roxy shouts, waving her arm in the air so I can find her.
Weaving around, the atmosphere buzzes with excitement. I wonder how long I was gone. It’s practically packed in the non-VIP area. I’m thankful when I finally reach our table.
“Babe! Is everything okay?” Roxy demands as I slide into my chair.
“Yeah, the bathroom’s by the bar. It’s super busy, and then I got a little turned around, but I’m right as rain. I swear.” I hope my face is giving all the “I’m fine” vibes possible.
On the table, there’s an unopened can of flavored seltzer water waiting. Roxy studies me suspiciously, and I decide not to tell her about the Jackson story or the guy from the hallway. It seems better suited for another time when I’m not trying to convince both of us I’m fine.
“Okay, just checking. Are you ready to be amazed by my man?” Roxy purrs, more upbeat than moments before.
I wouldn’t be surprised if Roxy was a member of the Cas Wilder fan club. My bestie is obsessed, and it’s only gotten worse since the tour was announced. I’m fairly certain she has every piece of merch ever produced. Her worry has subsided and is replaced with a giant smile. That’s what I love about Roxy. We’re practically sisters at this point. We’ve been friends for so long, she knows when to press and when to let things slide. I’m thankful she dropped this particular topic. I doubt she believes that I’m fine, but I know she also sees my willingness to manifest a good time.
“You keep telling me he’s like the hottest man alive,” I shout over the hum of voices.
I think back to the shirtless guy I encountered in the hallway. I’m pretty sure he’s the hottest man I’ve ever seen, so I’ll be hard-pressed to believe Cas Wilder is going to pop out on stage somehow hotter than him. His tattoos nearly had me drooling like a pathetic, horny, middle-aged woman—am I middle-aged? Who cares? I identify as middle-aged now. Whether I am or not, it doesn’t matter. I’m fully ready to embrace my cougar era.
I wonder what the hallway guy does exactly. He obviously is some type of crew member. Given his outfit and the mask, I wonder if he’s part of the show. Like an MC or a backup singer, maybe a musician from the band…something.
Roxy slams her hands on the table. “Vi!” she shouts. “I need you to take this seriously. He’s fucking delicious.”
