Page 81 of Second Sets Omnibus

Ash’s eyes widen, and a little red tint takes over his cheeks as he sputters, collecting his breaths. His eyes slide to mine witha knowing look, most likely remembering the words he spoke a few weeks ago.

“For fuck’s sake, Little Brat,” he gasps, tightening his grip on my shoulder. “You remember what I said, right? What happens when you call me daddy?” he murmurs, inching his face close to mine.

Asher looms over me, bringing our bodies closer and closer together until my back hits a wood support, and he cages me in, examining my eyes. I don’t know what he sees behind them, but he grins, exposing all his teeth.

“I am very fucking proud. Maybe you’ll get a reward later,” Asher murmurs, inching closer until his soft lips land on my cheek, awakening the butterflies in my stomach. “But stop calling me daddy,” he says against my flesh, verbally pleading with me. “Or you won’t like the consequences.” Shivers roll through me when he pushes away and walks toward the SUV.

“Okay, Daddy,” I taunt, watching as he halts his steps before making a mad dash away.

“You’ve gotta stop winding him up, River Blue. Especially before a performance,” Kieran chuckles, wrapping a sweaty arm around my shoulders.

“Um, what’s the fun in that?” I laugh, shrugging off his heavy arm. “You boys have two hours until the show. It gives you time for sound check and all that fun stuff.”

“And you?” Callum asks in a small voice, making his way onto the back of the stage with his bass. Standing high above me, he tilts his head and examines me. “You’re staying, right-right?” Big puppy dog eyes greet me when I look up at him, drenched in the shadows of the stage.

Offering Callum a soft smile, I nod. “Of course. I’ll be out there setting this up. Let’s see how much your fans love you,” I say, picking up a box full of shirts.

He grunts, setting down his bass, and jumps off the stage. Landing with a soft thud, he yanks the box from my hand. As we walk from behind the stage, we finally catch a glimpse of the full view of the crowd lining up to see them.

“That has-has to be the biggest crowd we’ll ever play for.” Callum shudders, placing the box on a table set up to the right of the stage. He swallows hard, surveying the crowd with awe, and reaches for my hand, squeezing tight.

“You’ll do amazing,” I whisper, squeezing his hand back.

His cheeks darken at my compliment, and he nods. “Thanks, River,” he murmurs, kissing my cheek.

“No problem. Now, go get ready. You have a raging crowd of four hundred people to impress. And hopefully, sell lots of merch,” I say, nodding toward the box full of their new merchandise.

I shoo Callum away with a grin, watching his retreating form. He only looks back once, reddening at the sight of me, and offers me a little wave.

So, as the boys do their thing backstage, getting their equipment set up, I do my thing at their new merch table, setting everything up.

After planning a design and chatting with the printer, we got shirts, pins, and postcards with their band name for a reasonable price. Everything’s coming together for them in the past three weeks since they sat down and got to business. It’s the first time I’ve seen them hunker down and put effort into their future as a band. Sure, they’ve played at a few venues but never invested in themselves.

Scooting the long plastic table next to the stage, I set out their merch. A few people meander over, looking over the shirts, and buy a few before the boys go on stage, explaining they can’t wait to see the show. As two hours tick by, I hear the boys’ hushed conversation behind the curtain protecting them from view. If Ileaned back far enough, I’d have a clear shot of them murmuring in each other’s ears and braiding their hair.

“Telling secrets?” I quip, pulling a piece of the curtain back to reveal the boys standing in a circle. I lean my elbows on the stage that comes up to my chest and raise a brow.

“You’re nosy,” Asher deadpans, grabbing the curtain from my hand. “Back to your table, Little Brat.” I snort when he pulls the curtain closed, blocking my view of them.

“Secrets don’t make friends!” I shout, taking a few steps back to my table and plopping down on the lawn chair I thankfully remembered to pack.

My eyes roam the ever-growing crowd, mesmerized by the mass of people forming around our small area. Every year we invite popular bands to this stage, and every year they draw sizeable crowds. But nothing like this. This crowd is massive, swaying together in anticipation.

As my eyes look over the rest of the crowd, I groan at the sight of my high school enemies. Fuck. A few girls around Tessa and Sara stare in my direction with narrowed eyes before leaning in to whisper to one another. God, it’s like we’re back in high school. Hello, bitches—we’re adults now.

Each and every one of those girls was a dick to everyone else, especially me. Their fucking plaything for two years. And now, it seems I’m their target—once again. Yippee. Little do they know; I won’t roll over and be a good puppy anymore. I have more bite than bark. The sooner they realize that the better. Because if they keep coming after me, I’m going to rip their annoying faces off.

The curtain behind me draws again, revealing a smiling Rad, glowing with pre-concert jitters. I swear he’s the damn sun beaming down, and I’m the little planet, soaking it in. Crooking a finger, he pulls me toward the stage with one finger flick. I raise a brow, leaning against the wooden structure, staring into the abyss of his dark eyes that twinkle in the dwindling sunlight.

“Pretty Girl. I’ve got a new shirt for you,” Rad says, trying and failing to hold back his grin while holding up a dark shirt that says: Property of Whispered Words.

I blink rapidly, taking in the meaning of the words scrawled across the black shirt waving in the warm breeze. Once it settles in, I narrow my eyes at the possessive fools standing above me on stage.

“Really? You want me to wear a shirt like that?” I raise a brow when Rad looks at the crowd mixed with women and men. Without hesitation, he nods with enthusiasm—or maybe it’s possession hiding behind his intentions.

“Uh, huh. Yup! Now, put it on,” Rad demands, holding it in front of my face with expectation. “Put it on, beautiful! I want to see our band name stamped over your pretty titties for the entire world.”

“It’s to keep the other vultures away,” Asher says with a noncommittal shrug. “They’ll know who you belong to.”