Page 16 of Silent Truths (Razor Monkees #1)

Salem

“ O h, my God !” a group of girls screamed, rushing up to us. Tor flinched in surprise, his wide eyes snapping from the corn dog in his hand to the group of girls crowding us. I pressed a kiss to his ear, hoping to calm him.

He had never gotten used to how much people loved us and fawned over us.

Not when we’d been nothing more than a group of kids playing in bars, hoping to earn a little bit of cash, and still not when we were on a stage in an entirely different country with thousands upon thousands of fans in attendance to watch us play and sing.

“I can’t believe we’re meeting you in person!” the one with blonde hair gushed, her eyes full of hearts and her cheeks flushed. “Can we have a picture? And autographs?”

Tor cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah,” he rasped.

He finished his corn dog in one bite, making me snicker.

I’d have to test that gag reflex later. He cast me a dark look before stuffing the stick into his cargo pants.

We bent into the girl’s picture as she squished herself between us, snapping a selfie of the three of us.

The other three quickly did the same, and then Tor pulled his Sharpie from his pocket and scrawled his signature on their shirts before handing the marker to me so I could do the same.

They rushed off, gushing and squealing. I slipped my hand into Tor’s back pocket as he pulled the corn dog stick out of his pocket and tossed it into a trashcan we passed.

“I hate this part of being famous,” he muttered. “There’s too many people.”

I hummed, gently squeezing him against my side, making him stumble the slightest bit. “You handle it well, though.”

He looked at me. “Without you, it makes me break into a cold sweat. Feels like I’m gonna faint.”

I tugged him around in front of me when two kids came barreling past us, almost plowing into Tor. Tor grunted in surprise, his hand smacking against my chest as he collapsed into me. I arched a brow at him. “What did you do when we were on the outs?” I asked.

A light blush stained his cheeks, and he looked away from me. “Still having you close helped,” he mumbled. “Didn’t make it so bad.”

I wound my arms around him and rested my cheek against his. He sighed and curled his fingers into my plain black t-shirt, pressing his cheek against mine a little more, like if he could just press hard enough, he could sink beneath my skin.

I’d keep him there forever if he managed it. Never let him go. He’d be a part of me for the rest of my life. Always there. Never apart.

After a moment, we continued meandering through the crowd, constantly getting stopped to sign autographs and take pictures.

Every few minutes, Giselle would pop out of nowhere and take pictures of us off-guard before disappearing again.

It was a bit fucking annoying, to be honest. Couldn’t we just be left alone before we had to play for the first night?

Like fuck, all these fans would post enough on social media to make us look good enough, wouldn’t they?

As darkness descended, Tor and I found a spot on the edge of the crowd that had formed in front of the stage so we could enjoy the bands playing. They were all good—really good—and I could tell Tor was enjoying it, too.

It reminded me of us—the us we’d been before Richard showed up in that bar and changed our lives forever.

We were kids just chasing a dream, never thinking we’d actually make it, but we pushed on anyway.

Kept playing. Kept writing songs. Kept practicing.

Kept taking every opportunity we had to appear in bars and clubs.

And we’d made it. Somehow, some fucking way, we’d goddamn made it.

“Makes me nostalgic,” Tor said as bands switched out.

“Me, too,” I quietly confessed. “Things were easier back then.” Didn’t mean I’d ever change them though.

No matter how much I’d fucked up. No matter how much I’d hurt him.

I wouldn’t change it. Because if we hadn’t fucked around in that bar and shit hadn’t gone sideways, would I ever know Tor as mine like this?

“You two,” Delia said, appearing out of fucking nowhere. I grunted in annoyance. Tor straightened in my arms, no longer leaning back against me. I glared at her. She was always intruding on my moments with him, and it was fucking annoying. “You need to go get ready.”

“Can’t we just perform in this?” I griped. What the hell was wrong with what we were wearing? It literally looked the same as what we usually wore on stage.

“No, you can’t,” she retorted. “Go. Now. You don’t have much time.”

I sighed, rolling my eyes. Then, I grabbed Tor’s hand and linked our fingers together before leading him behind the stage where our bus was parked.

Immediately, we were separated, and I suffered through an outfit change, fucking eyeliner being lined under my eyes, and enough hair product chemicals put into my hair to put down a small rhino.

Tor emerged from our room, his blonde hair in a messy style that made him look hot as fuck—hotter than he usually did, anyway.

He was wearing a tank top with skulls and roses on it, the sides cut out to reveal his flat stomach.

“We need to cover the marks on your neck—” his makeup artist said, trailing after him.

“Not fucking happening,” I told her. I stood from the stool I was perched on, running my eyes down Tor’s body, eyeing the skin-tight jeans hugging his narrow hips. “You look good enough to fucking eat.”

His lips tilted up at one corner, his eyes going dark and a little hazy. I kissed him before leading him out of the bus. Dalton nodded once at us in greeting as he emerged from the bathroom, and then we were outside.

Tor pulled a blunt from his pocket and placed it between his lips before lighting up. I leaned back against the side of the bus before pulling him back against me, resting my chin on his shoulder while he smoked to calm his nerves.

It was his ritual before any show or concert we did. And though I’d stopped joining him after our fallout, I’d watched from the shadows. Just needing to be there. Needing to know I was right there if he spiraled.

“I know you used to watch me,” Tor rasped.

I blinked in surprise. “Were you reading my mind?”

He huskily laughed and shook his head. “No. This just made me think of all the times I caught you watching me from the shadows when I smoked before we needed to be out on stage.” He turned his head to look at me.

We were so close, all I had to do was purse my lips, and we’d be kissing.

The smell of weed and his cologne assaulted my nostrils, and I tightened my fingers over his belly, clutching at him.

“It helped. Knowing you were there, right where I needed you… it was confusing. But it helped.”

I kissed him then, my tongue slowly probing between his lips. The kiss didn’t last long, but it didn’t need to.

He relaxed into me, and when our lips parted, he turned his head, lifting the blunt back to his lips. I rested my chin back on his shoulder, letting him continue to settle his nerves while I grounded him.

Sweat gleamed on Tor’s skin as he ran along the edge of the stage, slapping hands with eager fans all while he belted out the lyrics to one of our fan-favorite songs, his heart bleeding into every word that fell from his lips.

I strummed the guitar, my eyes never leaving him as I slightly bobbed my head, letting his lyrics pour through me. All his hurt. All his pain. Agony laced every word from his lips—real pain I could never wash away. Real pain I caused.

My words melded with his flawlessly in the last chorus, and he jerked his head up in surprise, his voice only faltering for a moment before his eyes brightened and his words flowed with mine again.

“ You tore me open. Left me bleeding. My heart’s on the floor.

My soul is screaming. This pain you caused.

This hurt you weave. I’ll hurt for you every goddamn day so long as you love me. ”

I tugged him closer once he was in arm’s reach, and I kissed him, my hand curling around the back of his neck. His moan sounded through my mic, but the fans were screaming too loud to seem to notice.

“I love you,” he panted, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

I kissed him again, hoping he understood the words I couldn’t say yet with a tangle of emotions tearing at my throat too much for me to speak.