Page 165 of Just Wait

Exclusive VIP seats take up the area just in front of the stage, and they’re cordoned off by railing and the majority of the security team.

Wren and I have seats in said area.

Behind this section are three large columns of seats that extend to the edge of the awning. Beyond that is a grassy area where people can sit on blankets or in lawn chairs. That’s where I’m guessing a mosh pit would form if the fans really wanted to, but with all the seats and concrete, this area wouldn’t be ideal.

I also trust that Kasey and Scott would lead us out at the first sign of trouble.

It has to be getting close to the end of Liminal’s set. They’ve been up there for ages. If playing on stage for two hours is exhausting, the aerial performers have to be even more spent. I’m pretty sure they’ve swapped out several times over the last hour and a half, but it’s hard to tell.

The stage is dark, only lit by a few strategic lights, the guys’ masks, and the glowing LED lights on the aerial performers’ costumes.

The effect is magical.

Riser and Tennyson start the next song. It’s a slow beat with just the occasional landing of Riser’s sticks, while Ten keeps time with his bass.

Kincaid’s mask looks crazy as he leans toward the audience, singing into his microphone.

It takes me a few seconds to realize it’s “What I Wanted,” which is another one of the songs on their lineup that proves how much pain Andrew must have been in. Well, that or he was very good at tapping into the darkness.

One of the floor spotlights points directly at Malcolm as he joins Kincaid. They keep the lighting on his hands and guitar. It’s an incredible aesthetic because the only other part of Mal that we can make out, even up this close, is his neon mask.

On either side of the stage are huge screens that project the guys, so the people all the way out on the lawn can see the details. Sometimes they pan out to show the aerial performers, but at times like these, they stay with a close-up shot of one of the guys.

Malcolm strums his guitar like it takes absolutely no talent to play at the level he does, and the view cuts to Kincaid. The women in the audience scream as the camera operator zooms in on his hand caressing the microphone stand.

Jeez.

I’m going to pick on him about that later. The skull face on the top of his hand is sexy as fuck, and it looks like he’s teasing the mic stand like it’s the female form.

A naughty little thrill runs through my system.

I know exactly what those hands feel like teasing my body.

Mmm.

Damn…

Now I’m ready for the show to be over.

Surprisingly enough, we make it back to the greenroom before the guys. It’s not a problem, but it does leave me wondering what popped up to delay them.

It’s not more than twenty minutes later when the door opens. They’ve already pulled off their masks and the oversized jackets they were wearing on stage.

Okay, that makes sense.

They probably had to stop by the wardrobe department first.

It’s a line of sexy rock stars as they all file toward the bathrooms, yanking off their T-shirts. Well, not Riser, but he does wink on the way by.

Damn.

I’ve seen Tennyson without his shirt before, but the man is all long, lean muscles. Based on the way Wren licks her lips, watching as he strides by, I’m going to say she might be more interested in him than she’s led on.

He spots her staring and balls up his sweaty shirt, chucking it at her head. She hisses, which is kinda hysterical, but I notice she drops the shirt on the chair next to her rather than discarding it.

I’m fairly sure she’s an omega.

I missed it until she slept in the bedroom on the bus, but it definitely smelled like an omega had been wallowing around in the sheets.