Page 26 of Pretty When It Burns (When The Lights Go Down #1)

Chapter twenty-three

"Sugar, We're Going Down" - Fall Out Boy

Mia

The first night on the road was rough.

I haven’t felt this level of claustrophobia since my freshman year dorm days. Moving in with the band and now living on a tour bus—crammed in with seven other people, some of whom I barely know—is uncharted territory in every sense. There’s barely room for all of us, but we make it work.

The bunks are stacked three high on either side of the narrow hallway between the two lounge areas.

It feels more like sleeping in a coffin than a bed, but Grayson and I hadn’t even discussed the arrangement.

From the moment we began loading our bags that first day on the road, he’d looked at me and asked, “Which one do you want to be ours?”

Even though it’s cramped as hell, body-to-body with barely enough space to breathe, I wouldn’t have wanted to attempt to sleep anywhere else.

Between the bumps on the highway and Eric’s snoring from the bunk above us all night, I’m running on very little sleep as the band prepares for their show tonight in Philly.

This will be the first show that the guys have played since everything blew up in New York—since the press surrounding Grayson, his family, and incidentally, me had reached new levels of intensity.

Also, most importantly, since Grayson had come face-to-face with his mother after all those years.

I watch Grayson closely from where the crowd will be later tonight as I set up my media equipment during soundcheck.

He’s missing chords, mixing up verses… if I hadn’t known Grayson had written those songs, I would’ve thought this was his first time playing them.

This is another version of him I’ve never seen before.

“Fuck this!” Grayson curses over the speakers after a particularly rough run through of one of their most popular songs. He storms off the stage, the others left looking unsure of what to do. I quickly take off to meet him.

When I find him, he and Eric are in the midst of a tense discussion.

“Man, I’m not letting you go on stage like this,” Eric is saying. “We’re this close to a major record deal. We can’t throw it all away in one night!”

Grayson has his head in his hands as he paces, battling between what he knows he should do and the thought that getting on stage will make all of his hurt disappear.

Rylee approaches Eric and me after talking with Jake, their tour manager.

“You should talk to him, Mia,” she says softly. “If there’s anyone who can calm him down and bring him back to center, it’s you.”

I want to laugh. What does she think I have to contribute that I haven’t already?

“I’d love to, Ry. I’m trying, but I’m not sure what more I can do.”

“Well, you could go out there with him,” Rylee suggests lightly. “I’ve heard you sing before, Mia. You’re fantastic, plus you’ve gotten to know all the songs…”

Grayson stops his pacing and looks over at us. “Rylee, I think that might be the smartest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“Grayson, no,” I stammer. “You’ve been doing this for twelve years without me! You can do it. I’ll stay close, I’ll be there the whole time. You don’t need me for this.”

Eric motions to Rylee and they leave us to debate.

“I do need you, Mia,” he begins. “I can’t play this show tonight without you.

You could sing like a walrus for all I care.

All I know is that I’m a nervous wreck right now and I can’t remember a time where I’ve ever felt like this.

But Rylee’s right—you make all of it go away, okay? Please, beautiful. Do this for me?”

I pause, in disbelief that I’m even entertaining the thought of going out there. My biggest singing performance to date was in the safety of my shower at home.

“I’ll mess everything up,” I say finally. “We haven’t rehearsed together at all, not to mention, I’m the behind-the-scenes girl. I’ve never been on stage like that before, Gray. I don’t know if I can.”

“We’ll go rehearse with the guys right now,” Grayson replies, already pulling me towards the stage with the stubborn determination that makes us so alike. “If you don’t feel good about it within the next hour and a half, you don’t have to do it, but please try.”

He stops, turning to face me, and I see that look in his eyes—the one he knows I can’t say no to.

“Please, beautiful. You’d be saving my ass here.”

I swallow hard and nod. “Okay, I’ll try.”

Within seconds, Jake and the sound crew are buzzing around me, clipping microphones on and adjusting the monitors to match my height. I catch a glimpse of Rylee, my biggest cheerleader besides Grayson, in the wings. I don’t think her smile can get any bigger as she shoots me a big thumbs up.

Rehearsal begins, and the nerves I anticipated are definitely present.

At first, my voice is shaky and my hands feel sweaty as I cling to the mic stand for stability.

But with each passing minute, I feel a little more steady, a little bit more like maybe I’m ready for being more than a behind-the-scenes girl.

Having listened to every set and soundcheck over the last few weeks had really been a blessing in disguise, but Grayson keeps close, guiding me through the setlist. I already know the timing, the way Grayson leans into the mic to add intensity during certain moments in each song, the parts where Eric will go a little rogue with his solos.

Even Brandon and Tony’s rhythm section has patterns I can now predict.

We make it through two full songs, and by the end of the second, the guys are exchanging glances. Not of concern, not of discontent—they're impressed. When the last note rings out and silence falls, Tony gives me a huge grin.

“If you bail, we’re screwed. No pressure.”

Eric laughs. “He’s right, you know. That was good—better than, actually.”

“And we’re not easy to please,” Brandon adds with an encouraging smile.

I glance at Grayson. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. The pride in his eyes says it all.

“Okay,” I sigh. “I can do this, but there’s no way I’m going out there looking like this.”

I look down at my well-loved, faded jeans, Chuck Taylors, and my favorite Catastrophically Charismatic tee that I’d stolen from Grayson. I’ve never cared much about looks or an outfit, but if I’m going to start, now seems like the time.

“Let’s go find the girls,” Grayson suggests, already putting his guitar down. “They’ll know what to do.”

Moments later, I’m in the dressing room with Rylee and Johanna, who are barely able to contain their excitement.

Rylee takes control of my makeup, opting for a soft smokey eye and bold lip while Johanna curls my hair into soft, effortless waves.

Thankfully, although she toned down her choices and softened her edges, Johanna hasn’t completely ditched her affinity for designer clothes after deciding to come on tour.

Between a black leather mini skirt that hugs my hips, an intentionally distressed gray tee, the most eye-catching black heeled combat boots, and some statement jewelry, I finally feel like I look the part that I’ve been cast for the night.

When Grayson returns, his eyes widen. For a moment, I worry the girls have overdone it, that I’m unrecognizable to him.

“Just when I thought you couldn’t be more perfect,” he beams.

“You don’t think it’s too much?” I ask.

“Never, beautiful,” he assures me. “Let’s get your mics put back on and get you on stage.”

My heart is pounding in my chest. Rylee takes my usual place in the crowd to take photos, but Johanna stays close, whispering encouragement as the techs clip a mic to my new clothes and do a final adjustment on my monitors.

The band just walked out on stage, and the roar of the crowd is more deafening than it has ever been from where I stand backstage.

“Philadelphia! Let’s make some noise!” Grayson’s voice rings out. “How are you guys doing tonight?”

The crowd erupts again, their energy washing over me, my breath catching.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he continues. “My Mia is going to be joining me on stage for a few songs tonight. How does that sound?”

Each time I think the crowd has reached their peak, they take it to another level. My pulse radiates in my ears.

With a little push from Johanna, I step forward. I figure they haven’t seen enough of me yet, that there’s still time for me to bolt, but when I see Grayson smiling at me like I’m the only person in the room, I move into the spotlight.

I walk toward him, heels steady but legs shaking, and somehow I make it close enough for me to take his hand. The lights are hot, the crowd electric, but I just keep my eyes on Grayson and try to tune out everything but the music as Eric begins the intro to Collapse Into You.

Grayson starts singing, and when I join in, our voices melt together perfectly over the speakers like we’ve done this a thousand times before.

I don’t dare break our eye contact as everything else—the crowd, the lights, the anxiety—blurs into the background, and when we hit the chorus, the audience roars and sings it right along with us.

And then I realize, the crowd isn’t just cheering for the song.

They’re cheering for us.

In this moment, deep down, I know this is only the beginning.