Page 8 of Paint Our Song (Cloverlily #1)

“ U gh!” Miles holds back from slamming on the horn. Stupid freeway and its traffic jams that seem to materialize every time there’s something important. He’s going to be late for his own exhibit.

“We should’ve left earlier,” Gabby pipes from his passenger seat.

“You think?” Miles asks dryly.

“Don’t be grouchy. I’m here to support you on your exhibit… and also…”

He peers at her. “What?”

Gabby grins and opens her purse, pulling out a concert ticket. “I have general admission tickets for tonight’s festival. I’m looking forward to watching Cloverlily. Don’t worry though, I checked and they’re going onstage way after your exhibit ends, so I won’t leave before your thing is done.”

“How did you get a ticket!?” He gapes at her as she waves the ticket in-between them, grinning smugly from the passenger seat .

“A guest gave it to me last night.”

“No fair… Give it to me.”

“Oh, stop it.” Gabby scoffs and puts the ticket away. “You could get tickets by asking Calvin, but you’re too much of a baby.”

“…The heck?”

“You’re an idiot. Here, give me your phone!”

“Don’t touch my phone!”

She ignores him and takes it, anyway, and Miles glares at her. “Is… Cat-vin supposed to be Calvin?”

“What? It’s funny.”

“Cute, you’ve been texting a lot, huh?”

“Stop going through my messages. What are you typing?”

“Hi,” Gabby reads out loud as she types. “In town with Gabby, and she has a ticket to the festival. Any chance you have a spare one for me, too? I will love you forever.”

His chest lurches. “Do not send that last bit. Actually, don’t send that entire message altogether.”

“The last part was a joke. I didn’t say that. And it’s already sent.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You like me, anyway.”

It’s strange, though. Now that Gabby’s gone and done that, he feels hopeful. Seeing the entire band live? He’s been wanting that for years now.

Gabby eyes her watch. “You’re going to be late for your exhibit.”

“Thank you, White Rabbit, I gathered that.”

When they get there, the street is full of parked cars, and he has to find a spot that’s about a block away. They arrive late, like she predicted. Miles finally gets to the gallery, and the gallery owner—a middle-aged art collector named Mrs. Goldyn—is introducing the gallery artists who are part of the exhibit. The theme is New Beginnings, and Miles had cranked out several new pieces for this event before heading back to Ridgeford. His work’s on one side of the gallery and his manager, Andy, is in the crowd glaring at him.

“Sorry,” Miles mouths at Andy sheepishly.

He stands by the front, next to the other artists who are being introduced. Some of his university friends are in the crowd, waving at him. Miles waves back at them, thankful that they’re here for him. He also makes it a point to be present when they have events, though he’s missed the last few ones since he’s been back to Ridgeford.

Mrs. Goldyn introduces the artists one-by-one, giving brief introductions about their art styles. Miles blushes when it’s his turn, and she gives a spiel about his art that makes him feel both a burst of pride and also what feels a lot like impostor syndrome.

After the opening remarks and the crowd disperses to look at the different works, Andy approaches him with a frown.

“Sorry for being late,” Miles says, before he’s able to talk first.

He sighs. “How are things going at your inn?”

“Not the best.” He can’t lie, not to Andy.

“It will work out. Get some food and mingle.”

There are many collectors in the gallery, some of which Miles has met a few times before. Familiar faces walk up to him and chat, asking how he’s doing, and he’s even able to sneak in mentions of his family inn while he’s at it—they should visit if they’re in Ridgeford, Miles suggests. Most of them have never thought of Ridgeford as a destination.

“Camilla has just opened a new establishment there,” a patron says eagerly. “My husband purchased a lot of shares. I hope it goes well.”

Miles resists the urge to show his distaste.

He sneaks away to a quiet corner a few times to check out posts from the band. As usual, Calvin hasn’t posted a single thing, but his bandmates have. Theo has posted a grainy-filtered photo of the stage while it was empty, and Chase posted a picture of him, Gil, and Calvin in what seems to be the inside of a tour bus. The top buttons of Calvin’s loose black shirt are undone, and Miles can see the tattooed flowers and vines that reach up to his collarbone. Calvin’s running a hand through his hair and is grinning at something off-camera, his dimples visible.

Miles’s face heats up, and he mentally groans. There really is something about Calvin that does it for him.

Or maybe he really, really needs to get laid.

He should hook up with someone to get whatever this is out of his system. While Miles hasn’t been interested in dating for years, he does have the occasional fling and one-night stand. He has a few friends he meets up with for casual hook-ups, and like him, they only want sex without the complicated feelings. That’s always been easier for Miles.

Maybe he can see if any of them are free tonight. Maybe that would help him stop ogling at a certain very hot guitarist who he’ll never have a chance with.

“Has Calvin replied?” Gabby whispers when she catches him in a corner. “I checked out the line-up, and they’re not performing until around ten tonight. You’ve got more than enough time to come.”

Ten—the exhibit’s going to be done, so she’s right.

“Nope.” Miles pretends it doesn’t sting. “As if he’d reply, he’s in the middle of a festival.”

Gabby flicks his forehead. “Look at you all grouchy.”

Glaring at her, Miles excuses himself. He’s been getting messages all night from friends and past professors who are giving him well-wishes. His social media’s buzzing with notifications as well, and he finds out that one of the gallery assistants—who shares his log-in details—posted some stories of the exhibit. He’s scrolling through the various notifications to make sure he hasn’t missed anything important when he spots it.

A reply from Calvin.

Cat-vin: What ticket does Gabby have?

Miles texts back immediately.

Me: general admission!

Oh, god. He needs water. Call him dramatic, but Calvin seems to have that effect on him. Miles retreats to a quiet corner and opens Calvin’s next message. There’s an attached file to it for two e-tickets to the festival. VIP tickets.

Me: THANK YOU!!!!!!!

Cat-vin: Thought you had an exhibit?

Me: it’ll be over soon!!!! we should be there just before your set!!!! Seriously thanks so much for the tickets. VIP holy shit haha does that get us backstage too?!

He might as well go full-unhinged fan and push it to the maximum, since Calvin won’t be able to take the ticket back now. It’s already stored on his phone.

Cat-vin: You and Gabby want to meet the rest of the band?

Me: OF COURSE!

Calvin asks for their full legal names, which he sends with shaking hands. Ten agonizing minutes pass before he gets another message.

Cat-vin: Asked them to give you backstage passes. See you.

His hands are getting clammy. Even if he’s talked to Calvin several times by now, it still sends him reeling—and this is going to be magnitudes of that. He’s going to meet everyone else. At a music festival. Backstage. Is this real?

When he tells Gabby the news, she exclaims, “No way!?”

Several people turn to glare at them. This is an art exhibit, after all. There’s a certain type of decorum to be expected. The patrons are all drinking champagne and eating canapés, and outbursts of joy are very frowned upon. Gabby, to her credit, grins sheepishly at them.

***

Gabby’s practically buzzing with excitement when most of the patrons leave for the night. Miles goes off to thank the gallerist and his manager. He also congratulates the other artists, doing all the polite things that are expected of him, even though he thinks about the music festival the entire time.

As soon as the exhibit ends, Gabby and Miles are both practically buzzing with anticipation, ready for the festival, and they leave right away .

The festival’s in an open field on the other side of town. The roads are crowded with cars parked on the sides of the streets and in empty lots. Gabby’s talking his ear off, and he can’t focus on a thing she says. He finds a parking spot about three blocks away from the venue, which Gabby, of course, groans loudly about.

“Love this band,” Gabby says, humming along to the tune. As they get closer, the performances get louder. Miles can recognize the song. It was by a local up-and-coming band. Since the festival started hours ago, there fortunately isn’t a queue to get inside. There’s a lot of security and metal railings surrounding the open field, with food and drink stalls all along the perimeter.

Miles opens the e-tickets, the guard scans them, and gives them both blindingly red wrist-bands.

“We have backstage passes, too,” Gabby tells the guard.

The big, intimidating security guard says, “Let’s see your IDs.”

Both he and Gabby rummage for their driver’s licenses and hand them to him. The guard looks them over, types into the tablet he’s holding, and yells to someone behind him, “VIP passes for Miles Curtis and Gabriela Martinez!”

Gabby stares at Miles with wide eyes. They hand them lanyards with laminated passes. His says “VIP Miles Curtis, Cloverlily Guest.” Cool. At the bottom of the passes, there are dates. The date on his is for two days ago, on the first day of the festival, and Gabby’s has today’s date. He doesn’t point it out to the guard in case it’s a typo and somehow invalidates his pass.

His thoughts race as he follows Gabby into the crowd.

What’s the actual protocol here? He doesn’t want to disturb the band, so he probably shouldn’t head there before they play on stage. And—what’s going to happen once he gets there? Is he going to get some photos, exchange some pleasantries, and then leave? What if they don’t even look his way? Holy fuck, what if Calvin was only being polite and didn’t actually expect him to come!?

No. Okay, Calvin wouldn’t have gone through the effort of putting him on the ‘list’ if he didn’t expect him to come. Right?

All this over-thinking is ridiculous.

Gabby sings along with the band that’s currently playing, as is the huge crowd, and Miles does too, even if he wants Cloverlily to go on stage already. He’s been waiting for literally years for this, and he can’t wait a moment more. Finally, after what seems like forever, the host announces Cloverlily is up next. Miles wipes at the sweat on his forehead. He should have changed before coming here—he’s still in the white dress shirt and black slacks he wore to the exhibit. Everyone else is in loose and airy clothing appropriate for a jam-packed outdoor concert, and he looks as if he’s about to sell real estate… or a funeral plot.

Miles’ heart races. One by one, the band members come up on stage, Theo Reid leading all of them, as usual.

“How are we all doing!?” Theo shouts, prompting cheers from the crowd. There’s also their bassist Chase Manning, and their drummer Gil Ramos. Calvin comes up last, guitar in hand.

It’s the first time he’s seen them in person, ever. Theo walks onstage in a way that demands attention, his posture loose but confident, and their band’s name emblazoned on his tank top. Chase, their bassist, waves at a group of ladies standing near the stage. He’s cute, Miles admits, and he can see why the blond, pretty boy’s consistently voted as one of the most attractive celebrities. Then there’s Gil, who, like Calvin, is also known to be pretty quiet—he makes a beeline for his drums, his dark curly hair shadowing most of his face.

Then there’s Calvin, who looks fantastic and unfairly hot, as usual.

Gabby cups a hand around her mouth and yells, her voice ringing in Miles’ ears. Miles never realized she was also this big a fan of Cloverlily. Maybe Miles blaring their music every waking hour helped.

It’s funny to Miles how he always thought that if he ever had the chance to watch the band play live, that he’d be yelling the words of their songs along, and he’d be as rowdy as Gabby was being. He also thought he’d focus mostly on Theo, who really was the charismatic frontman who knew how to get the crowd going.

No, what actually happens is this: Miles is frozen in place, silent, and his heart races. He watches Calvin the entire time. Calvin plays with his eyes down on his guitar. He avoids looking at the crowd, and yet the way he moves—it’s so graceful. The large screens that surround the stage show a close-up of Calvin, his hair sticking to his forehead and neck with sweat. The way he’s smiling ever so subtly makes Miles’ heart leap in a way he doesn’t understand. He’s seen Calvin play live before, without his band, with a much smaller crowd—and between that and this huge festival, it’s the same. All he sees is Calvin.

“I’m so happy you’re finally able to watch them live!” Gabby yells in his ear when their first song is done.

The crowd cheers, and Theo walks around the stage and crouches down to high-five people in the front. They play a few more songs. They play “Make You Mine,” which is one of Miles’s favorites, and Miles is disappointed that Calvin’s not the one who sings it even if it was clearly expected. He’s always been a fan of Theo. He follows him on social media and watches his livestreams, and it’s only now that Miles realizes that he doesn’t actually care much for him.

Right before they play their last song, Theo says to the crowd, “We are all thankful for all the support, and hope that you continue supporting us in whatever paths we take.”

Miles isn’t sure if he only imagines it, but he’s pretty sure Chase rolls his eyes at Gil.

After the last song’s done and the band gets off the stage, Gabby leans toward Miles and asks, “When are we going backstage?”

“I don’t know? I don’t want to bother them.”

“What? Calvin wouldn’t have given you a backstage pass if he didn’t want you there! You’re honestly being so weird about Calvin. Have you ever had an actual friend before, aside from me?”

He narrows his eyes at her. “Yes?”

And that’s when it seems to dawn on Gabby. She pulls back, eyes wide. Gasping, she clasps a hand over her mouth. “Oh, wow, you’re into him. Like, actually into him.”

“I don’t—Gabby, what are you talking about!?”

The next band’s already on stage and the crowd’s loud, and they’re packed like sardines, and someone bumps into him. Gabby studies him with a calculating gaze and Miles’ cheeks burn .

Miles splutters, “I’m not into him. I’m a huge fan, and I don’t want to look like an idiot in front of the band!”

“You’re going to look like an idiot either way!”

He rolls his eyes. “Lovely talk. Thank you.”

Gabby grabs his hand and starts pulling him toward the side. Sighing with exasperation, Miles lets her. They zigzag through the crowd and the closer they get to the sides of the field, the fewer people there are. Gabby stops walking when they’re in an empty space that has actual oxygen they can breathe.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Miles demands.

“Listen, Miles.” Gabby holds him by the arms, tight, and stares right at him. “You’re an amazing guy.”

“This is really weird.”

“There’s a reason so many people like you. I know you’ve got some weird commitment thing since Matt, where you can’t date anyone for longer than two days.”

“Okay, rude.”

“You also have this weird thing where you don’t know how incredible you are.”

“Huh?”

Gabby narrows her eyes and tightens the grip she has on his arms, and a headache starts brewing in Miles. She says, “You’re a catch, and even Calvin Lowe’s just a guy! You’ve got this! You’re funny, kind, you work hard, and you’re not hard to look at! If it didn’t make me want to throw up, I’d ask you out!”

Miles pinches the bridge of his nose. “Never say that last part again. ”

In the end, he does feel a lot better despite Gabby’s odd version of a pep talk. Before he knows it, he’s being dragged again, this time toward the cordoned area that leads backstage. Being dragged around seems to be tonight’s agenda. The guard manning the entrance to the backstage area looks at the lanyard around their necks, nods, and steps aside to let them pass.

“Go right ahead,” the guard says. “Follow the signs to the tour buses.”

“Where do we go?” Miles asks, feeling entirely out of his element. The man shrugs.

Miles hopelessly looks over at Gabby, who’s waving him on. “Let’s go!” she insists.

Spurred by Gabby’s encouragement, he leads the way inside.