Page 27

“So next up, after Atlanta, we’ll —”
Our conversation was cut short when the cabin door swung open and the members of Boudica started filing in. Marcus bolted up from his seat, heading straight for Jen, helping her with her cabin bag. It seemed a little unnecessary, with the attendant standing right there, which made me pay closer attention to the interaction. Jen tossed her hair over her shoulder, smiling up at Marcus as he gestured to a nearby seat, and they sat down together. Okay, blurring the lines between professional and personal…Who the fuck was I to say anything about that?
The way my pulse leaped when Stef stepped in behind Reggie let me know the lines were so fucking blurry they were practically non-existent. Watching her move through the cabin, all casual confidence and sharp edges, had my blood humming in a way that was far from professional.
She greeted Marcus with a wide smile, stowed her guitar and glanced around the cabin, looking for somewhere to sit.
The only available seat was directly across from me, and I saw the moment she realized. Her face fell and she hesitated, maybe thinking of asking one of the guys to swap with her. Then she accepted the inevitable and plonked down across from me.
As she settled in, she threw out a comment to no one in particular, “I’ve always wanted to have sex on a private jet.” Hergaze then landed squarely on me, hard and unforgiving. “Not with you, though.”
I said nothing in reply, because what would I say? I well and truly fucking deserved it, and there was nothing I could say to make up for that. Well, that she was prepared to hear, anyway.
So I retreated, opting to pull out my tablet and pretend to be absorbed in work. It seemed like the safest bet, even though Stef’s presence was impossible to ignore. Trying not to look at her was like trying to ignore the sun–futile and headache-inducing.
I spent the entire flight hyper aware of every shift in her position, every breath she drew. Fuck, I swear I could hear her blink. Risking a few glances here and there showed me she was calm, completely composed, scrolling through her phone without a care in the world.
Finally, we landed in Atlanta. I switched my tablet off as Stef undid her seatbelt and pushed to her feet before we’d even come to a full stop. Eager to get away from me, no doubt. I’d give her time to step out and grab her things before I stood up. That way I wasn’t crowding her.
Then the jet lurched suddenly, jolting everyone. Stef gasped and lost her footing, stumbling toward me. Instinctively, I reached out, grasping her waist to steady her, as her hands landed on my shoulders.
For a brief second, our eyes locked–hers wide, a flash of vulnerability in them she rarely showed. Just as quickly, she straightened, recoiling from my touch, stepping back sharply. The stricken look was gone from her gaze, replaced by that guarded, distant look she always gave me.
“Sorry,” I muttered quickly, retracting my hands as if they’d been burned. “Didn’t mean to...”
She didn’t respond, just gave me a curt nod and straightened, moving past me, her scent lingering briefly in the air–a mix of her shampoo and something uniquely Stef that I couldn’t quite place. It was disorienting, and for a moment, I just sat there, feeling the space where she’d been, now empty.
There was a tension in her shoulders as she grabbed her guitar, a stiffness in her movements as she prepared to disembark. Even the most minor interactions with me upset her. I heaved a sigh, wishing that I could turn back time and undo the damage I’d done to her. Useless, I know, but here we were. I guess the least I could do was keep my distance as much as possible.
So that’s what I did. As we piled into the minivan that was to take us to the venue, I waited until Stef was already on board, sitting in the very back with Miriam, before I took my seat at the front. At least I could hold on to the hope that what Marcus and I had arranged for Boudica in Atlanta would please her.
Half an hour later, we pulled up in front of the Tabernacle for the moment of truth.
Evan’s low, “Fuuuuuck!” seemed to sum up everyone’s feelings, although I noticed Stef was suspiciously quiet. I risked a glance over my shoulder. She was staring out the window, her eyes wide. Did she seem a little worried?
It was an imposing sight, considering the venues they were used to playing at. It was an old church turned into a music hall and the size of the place was like a slap in the face. The historic facade was a stunning contrast to the sleek cityscape around it.
Everyone piled out of the minivan and stood on the sidewalk, gazing up at the bold marquee announcing ‘Boudica - One Night Only.’
“I could piss my pants, I swear.”
Miriam’s statement made Stef laugh, and I felt the sound skitter across my skin. It was all I could do not to turn and look at her again.
“Wait till you see inside.” Marcus stepped forward, dragging the big wooden door open and gesturing for everyone to go in.
Awestruck. That’s what they were. I watched Stef taking it all in - the high ceilings, stained glass windows, and the wraparound balcony all made for a pretty overwhelming experience.
Stef led the band onto the stage and grabbed the mic stand, peering out at the empty seats. The sheer scale seemed to hit her hard.
“Can you believe this?” Miriam broke the silence, her voice echoing slightly. “From dive bars to this...”
Marcus laughed. “Big change from the usual, huh?”
Stef glanced over, her expression flat. “How about we take it down a notch? We could be singing in an empty theater tonight, for all we know.” Her tone was edged with something I couldn’t place.
“Ah, no, actually. It’s a sellout.”
Her eyes met mine. “What the fuck?”