Page 5

And yes, even with that first concert, when we were still just an unknown opening act, we aced that shit.

People didn’t know our songs then, not really .

We had a hit on the Gram, sure, but they didn’t sing along.

They cheered, of course, when they found out how awesome we are.

We could hype them up, definitely… but these folks weren’t there for us.

No, they bought tickets to see Mick fucking Heart and his band, not us.

But with every show that followed, it changed, the focus shifted. It didn’t take long for the media to pick up on us, for the public to chant our songs as well, to cheer louder, scream harder, holler for more, more, more every time we got on that stage.

Encore for real.

They’re cheering for us now. They’re buying tickets to see us as well.

The tour wasn’t sold out when we first joined, but it sure as fuck is now.

That’s why the label insisted we kept on for the second part, why they prolonged it even after the break.

Jodie says sales are way up because of us, and she’s sure that when our first album goes live next week, we’re really gonna explode on the scene.

They’re already planning our own tour. Shit’s about to get real.

One can only hope.

“I have an idea,” Mick says as he hops from the wall and starts walking beside me, hands in the front pocket of his hoodie.

He’s around my size, maybe smaller, but he has this larger-than- life presence, courtesy of his enormous ego, and always seems bigger than he really is, like gravity bends toward him.

I arch a brow in question. Usually his ideas involve trying to get me into a dark alley, or insinuating we get somewhere private.

The audience’s attention wasn’t the only one that shifted to me.

The louder they get, the more popular we get, the more Mick seems focused on me, to my ever-growing annoyance.

I would never take him up on his one too many offers, but Jodie’s warning always keeps ringing in the back of my mind: play nice. I swear it sometimes feels like she’s pimping me out.

“Why don’t you get up on stage with us tonight for the last song? We can do ‘Blackest Heart’ as a duet. I think they’ll walk away with it.” He nudges me with his elbow. “I mean, I heard you aren’t flying back home anymore to your boyfriend right after your set, so you can stay for ours, right?”

I rub my heart over my runner’s tee; it aches. I hate that I can’t go see Tyler for his birthday. “Yeah, I have to stay because we have those joint interviews with you guys tomorrow, so we could do a duet, I guess.”

I have to talk to Jodie today because I need a solution for this. I don’t want to wait ten more weeks to see Ty. I thought I could handle it, could hack it, could survive show to show, venue to venue, until I’m back home.

But I don’t think I can. I don’t think he can. I can feel him slipping, can feel myself slipping.

The bastard flashes his teeth at me and leans in. Of course, he’s loving my misery. “I can always keep you company if you’re feeling lonely. Life on the road can get tough,” he almost fucking purrs.

I scoff, pushing away from him, aiming for the parking lot where the buses are. “I’m doing just fine, thank you.”

He follows me. “Hey, I’m just offering. I’ve been there. Just remember, there’s always a spot available in my bed if you want to cuddle some should you feel alone. I’m a superb cuddler.”

I pause and cock my head at the persistent celebrity. “You want to cuddle , really?”

“Yes, after I’ve fucked you into oblivion, of course. I’m all about the aftercare.”

I can’t help it and snort out a laugh as I shake my head. Jesus. Was I this persistent while pursuing Ty? It’s like I’m looking into a mirror sometimes. Maybe I should apologize to Tyler for my relentlessness back then. Or maybe not, because in the end, I definitely got what it is I wanted.

Mick smirks. He’s all darkness. Black hair, dark scruff, the deepest brownish-green eyes I’ve ever seen, more tats than I can count. Add in the piercing in the corner of his bottom lip, and he looks every bit the rock star he is.

He sees me watching and licks the damn thing.

It’s not doing shit to me, though. Yeah, despising him a bit more, maybe. It’s not even that he’s really the one I hate; it’s this situation.

“How’s yours doing?” he asks, eyes dropping to my mouth for the gazillionth time today.

Yes. I might have gotten my tongue pierced last month.

I was drunk, missing Ty, and acting young and stupid while being on a rock tour.

He doesn’t know about it yet. I was planning on revealing the barbell to him tonight after I flew over, showing him exactly how hot it could be by giving him a pre-birthday blowie and testing if I could improve my oral skills with that thing.

Now that plan has failed spectacularly. Mostly.

“At least your lisp is gone,” Mick goes on when I don’t answer. “Maybe next time when you pierce something in your mouth, wait to do it when you have a couple of days with no shows.”

I continue to walk and chuckle in agreement because yeah, it was funny.

I could barely sing the next night, but with some painkillers and some much needed support from a couple of extra guitar solos from Missy and additional vocals from Asher, we managed.

“Noted. But I think I’ll keep it at this one.

I’m not sure it’s even properly healed yet.

” I roll the ball around in my mouth. It still feels funny.

“You can test it on me?” He tilts his chin toward the buses when we enter the parking lot.

“You can come shower with me, see if that tongue ring has the desired effect. I mean, I could kiss you right here, but what if they get stuck? We might need some tools to get them loose.” He sticks out his tongue, where his own piercing is visible.

I push him, hard, and he stumbles, laughing, thinking I’m trying to be funny, which I’m not . “Stop it. You can try all you want, flirt all you want, I’ll never budge.”

A challenge heats in his gaze, and I’m getting many flashbacks of how I acted around Tyler a year ago. If this isn’t karma being a bitch, I don’t know what is. I wasn’t this annoying, right?

“Whatever you say, Jace. I’ll just go shower alone and pretend it’s you who’s making me come when I shoot down the drain.

In the meantime, you talk to Jodie about joining us on stage tonight.

I think she’ll be all for it.” He fucks off to his own bus, leaving me at the entrance of ours, his shadow trailing behind him.

I eye Everett, or Ev as most of the crew calls him, the mountain of a man who’s Mick’s bodyguard and follows us every time we run. Because even as normal—albeit irritating as fuck—as Mick appears to me, he’s so freaking famous, he needs a full-time wall of muscle around him.

And I have a feeling it won’t take long for me to need one, too.

Not that I wanna jinx it… but still, if these last months are any sign of what’s coming, and if, if our musical career develops like it has been since then, then shit…

It’s already a madhouse most of the time, I wouldn’t even dare dream of the possibilities.

I sigh, rubbing my sweaty hair, and trot up the steps of our quiet bus, deflated.

The driver and passenger seats are empty.

We arrived here in the middle of the night, so most of my crew and the roadies are probably still in bed, tired after a long trip.

We have a show tonight, but we’re so well orchestrated now with the roadies, they can chill for a while longer before setting up.

It doesn’t even take half as long anymore compared to the beginning of the tour.

I usually help, having nothing else to do most of the time and I’m not one for lying around doing shit nothing, I just can’t , never could. Plus, it’s fun to learn all the ins and outs of the mechanics behind a show. If we don’t have interviews or are busy working on our own shit, that is.

Jodie is the only one present in the cluttered living area, tapping away on her trusty laptop from where she’s seated on the bench in the tiny breakfast nook, a steaming mug of tea nearby.

She’s all big eyes, big glasses, and big brown bangs.

We’re the first band she’s got under her wing, having been an assistant manager for Six of Hearts for years.

We kind of hit it off with her from the start, and after some negotiations with our lawyer, my dear old dad, she agreed to take us on solo.

A risk for all of us, since she’s still pretty green, but she’s chill and doing a spectacular job so far.

“Hey, how was your run?” she asks as I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and drop on the other bench.

“Oh, same old, same old,” I say before taking a much needed sip. “Ran for a couple of miles, got lost once again, was harassed by Mick a bit.”

She scrunches her nose. “God, I know, right? He just doesn’t know when to give up.”

I shrug. “I can handle a spoiled rockstar. I mostly have my earplugs in when I’m running, so he doesn’t bother me that much. But he actually suggested that I join him tonight on stage. Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“Yes, I already heard. It wasn’t his idea, it was the label’s.” She nods at her laptop. “They sent out an email last night. He must’ve gotten it, too, or heard about it via their manager. There are some pictures of you two on his Instagram that are quite going viral.”

“What?” I immediately yank my phone from my sweaty armband and scroll through the app.

Oh fuck this. There we are, alright, but we aren’t doing anything noteworthy.

It’s just us hanging on the couch in their bus after a show last week.

Him showing me something stupid on his phone, and me fake laughing because I have to play nice.