Page 4 of Pretty When It Burns (When The Lights Go Down #1)

Chapter three

"Take It Easy" - Eagles

Mia

The moment Grayson steps out on stage, the energy in the room changes.

The air sharpens. The crowd becomes electric—I can feel it even standing in the safety of the photo pit by the stage. The song’s first chords ring out and the bassline pulsates beneath my feet, and even then, all I can focus on is him.

I lift my camera instinctively and gaze through the lens, but for a beat, I forget to press the shutter and let my eyes flick back up to the stage.

His voice hits the mic like a lightning strike—powerful and unforgettable.

Unsurprisingly, it’s deeper now than when we were young.

It’s weathered, like something forged from heartbreak that’s grown into something amazing.

I’m so entranced by him, I’ve forgotten I’m supposed to be working.

I reposition myself behind the lens and begin snapping shots, quickly realizing I’ve found my new favorite subject.

Grayson has always been talented. That much I know.

But hearing him now, his voice raw and unfiltered, I realize he’s something more than a singer or a songwriter, or even a performer.

He’s a fucking storyteller. A truth-teller.

Each lyric drips with pain, desire, and the haunting ache that comes from losing more than you can say out loud.

Suddenly, I want to know everything about him again. Not just the boy I remember from across the street—but the man standing right in front me.

I start to wonder if Grayson is paying as much attention to me as I am to him—even though it’s my job for the evening—when he makes direct eye contact with me in the pit. My heart stops beating for a moment realizing he’s looking right at me.

“Okay,” Grayson says over the microphone. “For our last one tonight, I’m doing something a little different. There’s someone special watching tonight, and I know she’ll appreciate this. I hope you guys enjoy it, too.”

The rest of the band looks confused as Grayson grabs a guitar case from behind the stage.

Even from the crowd, I can see what it is: the guitar his late father gave him for his tenth birthday that must be close to thirty years old now.

He strums a few chords and begins to sing again. Tony and Brandon come up with a beat to back him, and Eric joins in once he realizes what song it is. It’s the same one Grayson used to play on his porch.

“Is he talking about you?” Rylee asks, suddenly appearing beside me.

I nod, beaming. “Yeah. I think he is.”

I lower my camera and let it rest on its harness at my waist. I don’t want to photograph this moment. I want him to keep looking directly into my eyes as he sings this song, to remember the way I look while he sings to me. He can’t do that if I’m looking at him through a lens.

He keeps his eyes on me the whole time, and I try not to melt into a puddle of my own feelings as I’m transported back to another lifetime. The lifetime where I’m the pathetic teenage girl, hopelessly in love with the boy across the street who doesn’t notice me at all.

Except now, he does notice me. He’s looking at me like I’m the only person in a room full of screaming fans.

How he’s able to pick me out in the dark, smoky room where I feel like I’m fading into the background, I’ll never know.

The look in his eyes makes me wonder if we’ll be able to rewrite the narrative—that we might get a second chance at this now that we’re both grown.

When the song ends, the guys wish the crowd goodnight and exit the stage, making room for the headliner.

Rylee and I try to make our way backstage.

Before Grayson gets very far, I see Eric pull him aside for a brief, intense exchange.

He then pats Grayson on the back and sends him on his way—directly to me.

“What did you think?” Grayson asks once he reaches me, a grin on his face.

“It was incredible. You were incredible. I got some amazing shots,” I tell him, though it barely scratches the surface of how I feel. “But how did you know? That I would know the song?”

“You really thought I didn’t see little Mia watching me play on my porch all those years ago?” He chuckles. “You weren’t all that great at pretending to read.”

I blush furiously. The memories come flooding back for the second time tonight—the innocent obsession, the front porch concerts, the childhood awe.

“I thought I was being smooth.”

“Not even close,” he smirks playfully.

Then he leans in, brushing a lock of hair away from my face.

“Do you want to watch the rest of the gig, or get out of here?”

“The headliner is one of my favorite bands, so I’d like to stay,” I say.

He nods and smiles as though he knows I love music almost as much as he does.

We sit in the wings, just barely touching, with Rylee and the rest of the band nearby.

I glance back and see Rylee giving me a strange look—no idea why—especially after she pushed me to tell Grayson who I am.

What I also notice: Eric has his arms around her.

I raise an accusatory brow and she only shrugs, as if she doesn’t realize this is only adding to my curiosity surrounding their relationship—whatever it is.

As soon as the headliner finishes their set, Rylee grabs my arm and yanks me away from Grayson into a storage closet.

I can only imagine how it looks to the guys, but they have to know it’s pretty typical behavior for her.

She flips on the light as I try not to pass out from the fumes of the industrial size bleach and pine-scented multisurface cleaner bottles that I’m now backed against.

“We need to have a conversation,” she says seriously—rare for her, which means I need to listen.

“And this conversation is happening in a closet because…?” I prompt her, waiting impatiently for her response.

She twirls a piece of fiery red hair around her pointer finger and stares up at the ceiling, standing there with her arms crossed over her chest looking anything but innocent. She always does this when she’s trying to figure out how to tell me something she knows I won’t want to hear.

“I’ll put it simply,” Rylee says finally. “Grayson is involved. Married. To Lily Vance. She’s the lead singer of another up and coming band called The Dilemma.”

I feel a little ridiculous. A little naive. A lot stupid.

He’s fucking married?

Rylee chews on her bottom lip nervously while I take in what she said.

Did it bother me? Yes, absolutely.

Should it? Probably not.

It’s been twelve years since I've seen Grayson.

A lot of life has been lived in the last twelve years, and we barely know each other to begin with. My feelings are built on a teenage crush and fleeting adult connection. But Grayson is next-level attractive and insanely talented, so it makes sense to me that he’d be with someone like Lily.

No one who looks like him would’ve had to spend the last twelve years alone.

I certainly haven’t been alone either. Don’t get me wrong, I’m in no way innocent.

I’ve had a few relationships here and there over the years, too, but it was never anything serious.

Never to the point where I’d considered getting married.

I’ve always been waiting. Hoping. Dreaming of something, or someone, that would take my breath away.

“Okay,” I reply, not knowing a better response.

“I just wanted to make sure you knew,” Rylee adds softly. “I don’t know if he would’ve told you.”

Too late.

The feelings are already there, as embarrassing as that is, in crushing amounts that now only feel like extra weight on my shoulders.

I can’t act on them now, but that doesn’t mean I can just shove those feelings back in a box and put them in the back of this closet we’re standing in. It doesn’t matter how much I wish I could.

“Thanks, Ry,” I mumble, opening the door to exit the closet.

I’m not upset with her for telling me. It’s right of her to say something, and after all, she’s only trying to protect me. But that doesn’t stop my heart from aching a little at the thought of what won’t be.

As Rylee and I walk back to where Grayson and the rest of the band stand talking, I brace myself for interacting with him again.

“Hey,” Grayson smiles as I approach him. “I’d love to get a moment with you, away from all of this. There’s a spot I love not far from here. You down?”

I should say no. I should say that I just want to go back to whatever hotel Rylee and I are staying at and sleep because it’s late anyway. But what ends up coming out of my mouth is, “I might be.”

I already hate myself for enabling another interaction with Grayson that will only lead to more feelings—feelings I’m not allowed to have.

That’s the last thing I need.

Not to mention, we’ll be completely alone. I’ll be there wondering what it would be like if I bit that lip I’ve been eyeing all night. I’d found myself jealous of a microphone, and it’s definitely not helpful.

He chuckles and walks towards Rylee and the guys to tell them our plan. They were planning on going out for drinks with the other bands. Before we leave, Rylee takes a break from her conversation with Brandon to give me a look that clearly says, “be careful.”

Looking back at her with a quick nod of acknowledgement as Grayson and I walk away, I truly have every intention of not letting things get out of hand, no matter how hard it might be—for me, at least.

He leads me to his car—a black 1969 Camaro SS.

Of course.

He opens the door for me, moving what appears to be a journal shoved full of papers with song lyrics scribbled all over them and his sunglasses, almost like we’re going on a date.

That’s not what this is, I tell myself as he walks around to the drivers’ side.

Fifteen minutes later, we pull up to a cozy, retro diner. It looks like something out of a cheesy 80’s movie with the way the neon lights are glowing in the windows.

“I hope this is okay,” Grayson says as he pulls into a parking space. “This is one of my favorite places to go after a show.”