Six
Whit
T he night feels electric, like a charged current running through the air as I make my way to Scarlett’s door. She’s like an asteroid that I never saw coming. We collided with such force that it left me spinning, trying to regain my bearings. Her presence has a way of shaking up everything, breaking through the monotony of my world. She’s unpredictable, and there’s a raw, magnetic energy about her that I can’t ignore. Just when I thought I had everything figured out, she crashes into my life, leaving a trail of chaos and excitement in her wake.
I knock, and when the door swings open, it’s as if the world goes mute. There she stands, her long red hair cascading in waves over her shoulders, and her tight black pants hugging every curve. My heart races, colliding with the realization that she is here, and just by her presence, she has shaken up everything in my life.
She ignites a fire within me, illuminating the darkest corners of my soul and turning my world into a brilliant, burning supernova.
My fingers dig into her hip, pulling her body close as we walk to my bike. I opted to ride my Ducati, wanting to show her the full Whit Lockwood experience.
“This is it,” I declare as we approach the sleek machine parked under the flickering streetlights. Her eyes reflect the shimmering glow of the city around us, filled with a mix of anticipation and thrill.
Scarlett’s beautiful green eyes widen at the sight of my bike—a striking black beauty adorned with vibrant pink flames. I’m unable to refrain from smirking; I had it matched with my favorite guitar.
“Ever ridden one of these before?” My voice carries an exciting challenge, teasing the air thick with expectation.
She shakes her head, laughter bubbling nervously from her lips. “No, but there’s a first time for everything, right?” The gleam in her eyes sparks a grin on my lips.
“Exactly. Just hold on tight, and I’ll take care of the rest,” I assure her confidently.
I lean in a bit closer, inhaling her warmth, appreciating her intoxicating energy—a scintillating mix of sweetness and adventure that sends my heart galloping.
“But first...” I pull a rubber band from around my wrist, holding it up between my fingers. “I’m going to braid your hair, so it won’t tangle when we get to where we’re going.”
Her brows furrow in incredulity. “You know how to braid hair?” With a gentle pull, I spin her hips around, guiding her back to fit perfectly in front of me.
“I do. Now, be a good girl and let me take care of you,” I whisper against the shell of her ear. She sucks in a deep breath, her body tensing slightly before nodding.
Scarlett’s hair is thick but feels like silk between my fingers. As I weave the strands together, the temptation to pull her back into her apartment, surrendering to what might happen if I let our chemistry take control, flares fiercely. Yet the fact that I even consider it warns me I’m already in too deep.
A soft moan escapes her lips as I continue, crisscrossing until I’m at the end, tying off the braid. My fingers brush gently against her neck, eliciting a shiver.
“D’you like that, little flame?” I ask, tugging just slightly—enough to make her whimper. “Does someone like getting their hair pulled?” I smile down at her flushed cheeks while hunger grows within me.
“Guilty, it seems,” she shrugs. Looking away, her innocence shines through, and for a moment, the world around us fades away, leaving only the electric connection forming between us.
“You’re gorgeous, you know that?” I murmur, stepping back, admiring my handiwork as her pink-tinged cheeks highlight her seductive hint of shyness.
Scarlett turns to look at me, her eyes shimmering with untapped desire as she bites her lip, stoking the fire higher within me. “Is that part of the experience too?” Her delicate gesture radiates intrigue.
“What? Making you blush? Absolutely,” I chuckle, letting the moment linger as her plump lips seem to beg for acknowledgment.
I reach for the spare helmet, the click of the strap echoing as I hand it to her. As I lean down, helping her adjust it snugly, our fingers brush—shooting adrenaline through my chest. I love feeling her pulse beneath my hand, having that power over her. There’s something intoxicating about how her fear blends with excitement, and I wonder if she’ll ever truly understand the darkness that drives me. Will she embrace it like I have? Or will she turn and run the first chance she gets?
“You know,” I murmur, lowering my voice so it drips with promise, “this helmet isn’t the only thing you’ll have of mine tonight.”
Her brows quirk up, an innocent question mixed with sheer anticipation radiating from her. “Oh? And what could that possibly mean?”
I grin, relishing my inflated confidence and the way her eyes widen with curiosity. “You’ll see, little girl. Now, this is more than just looks. It’ll be an adventure, riding with me, you’ll experience freedom like never before.”
Her nostrils flare in a gentle breath, feeling the implications settle in. “Adventure? Is that what you call it?”
“It’s all part of the thrill. With me, you’ll feel everything—the wind in your hair, adrenaline coursing through your veins, and who knows what else?” I wink at her, feeling my heart thump wildly with every word.
She laughs lightly, a sound that is both musical and captivating. “I’ve never been one for high-speed excitement. I prefer my feet on the ground, you know?”
The challenge ignites my playful side further. “Ah, but it’s the ground that holds you back. Letting go is the real experience. Trust me.”
She hesitates, uncertainty flickering in her gaze, yet I can feel her unwinding. “Okay,” she finally concedes, and a rush of exhilaration runs through me.
“Good girl,” I purr as I strap on my own helmet.
Once she is settled on the bike behind me, I can feel the heat radiating from her body; it makes me hungry for more. I rev it a couple of times, teasing the beast beneath me before we surge down the street.
“Ready?” I shout over the rumble of the bike beneath us.
“As I’ll ever be!” she squeals, her words a blend of delight and trepidation.
The Ducati roars as we speed down the street, slicing through the night like a bolt of lightning. The wind whips at our bodies, wrapping us in a blanket of exhilaration. I can hear her laughter ripple against my back as we zip past illuminated storefronts, their neon colors blending into a dizzying blur.
“Oh God!” she yells as I crank the throttle. Her arms skate around my chest, holding on as tight as she can. The feeling of her pressed firmly against me has my cock stirring in my pants. Her thighs squeeze my hips tighter with every sharp turn. My thoughts drift back to our earlier encounter—the way her eyes sparkled when she smirked, how every time she looked at me, it felt like the universe realigned.
We pull into a dark alley behind the club, and I cut the engine. The silence wraps around us momentarily, filled only with our staggered breaths. Scarlett jumps into my arms as soon as I’m off the bike. The warmth of her body against mine sends a jolt of electricity through me, her grip tight and desperate, as if she needs the reassurance of my presence.
I hold her close, feeling the rapid thump of her heart against my chest. For a moment, everything else fades away—the noise of the city, the pressure of the night—all I can focus on is Scarlett. Her scent, her touch, the way she seems to fit perfectly in my arms.
Gently, I reach down and take off her helmet, placing it on the seat of the bike before removing mine as well. The cool air rushes against my face, mingling with the warmth of the moment.
Turning her around, I carefully unbraid her hair, making it cascade down her back in soft waves. She shakes it out, and in that moment, she looks perfect—utterly captivating.
“Are you okay?” I murmur, my voice low and steady, trying to calm the storm raging inside both of us.
She nods, pulling back slightly to look up at me, her eyes wide and shimmering in the dim light. “Yeah, I just... I needed that.”
I smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Good. Because tonight is about letting go and living in the moment.”
She bites her lip, a hint of uncertainty in her gaze. “I’m not sure I know how to do that.”
“Stick with me,” I say, my voice carrying a promise. “I’ll show you how.”
“So, what are we doing back here?” she questions, glancing around as if we have crossed into forbidden territory.
Maybe I should’ve told her I’m in a band, but hell, where’s the fun in that? I want her to experience it—this moment, this Whit—before telling her.
“Ever been to a rock show?” I ask, unable to hide my smile. The faint echo of music worms its way through the door, teasing us from the inside.
Her eyes flicker at my question, excitement washing over her. “I-um, no. I haven’t,” she admits, her voice barely rising above the beat that pulses from beyond the threshold.
“Well, I’m happy to pop your concert cherry then,” I tease, taking her hand and leading her toward the back entrance.
Scarlett giggles, the sound musical, and I find myself addicted to every note that escapes her lips. We step through a narrow door that creaks open, revealing dimly lit corridors adorned with band posters—some faded, some vibrant and new—the air thick with anticipation. The walls vibrate, a warning of the energy that awaits us in the main hall.
Once inside, the vibrant sound swells, enveloping us in rhythmic beats. I pull her to the front, closer to the stage. Snaking through the crowd, our bodies brush against strangers, each of us caught up in the spirit of the night. The lights blaze down, creating a kaleidoscope of colors that dance over us. I can barely hear her laugh over the roar of the crowd, but it’s enough to keep the fire ignited within me.
As the band plays I sway with Scarlett, our bodies moving instinctively to the rhythm. Every beat pounds her deeper into my soul, weaving her into the fabric of this moment. I feel electricity radiate between us, the chemistry pulling tighter with every strum of the bass.
“This is incredible!” she shouts, her face illuminated with joy in the pulsating lights. The way she looks—full of life and endless possibilities—makes my heart pound, the vulnerability and innocence in her excitement grounding me in a way I didn’t expect.
“Hell yeah! It’s even better with you here!” I shout back, my voice getting lost in the noise. I pull her closer, yearning to rest my hands on her delectable hips and watch her lose herself in this euphoria, just as I have.
I dig into my back pocket for the two Addys I’d stashed away earlier. Swallowing them dry, I can almost feel their energy buzzing just below the surface, waiting to kick in. I glance at Scarlett, her head turned, caught up in the magic of the stage but for some reason, her fleeting curiosity when I popped the pills doesn’t sit well with me.
I’m not a fucking addict; I can stop any time.
I catch the slightest tension in her arms, the way her muscles stiffen as the music propels us backward before we’re swept into the next wave of sound. I can sense it, the flicker of doubt as she takes it all in—the chaotic beauty of rock music, the thrill of being so close to the band. What did she think about me? Would this change things?
“Are you okay?” she asks, her brows knitting together, concern dancing like an uninvited guest in her animated expression.
“Yeah, just... You know how it feels before a show, right? Butterflies and all that?” I grin, feigning nonchalance as I guide her deeper into the crowd.
“Sure,” she replies, although her eyes remain skeptical, a glimmer of uncertainty creeping into her vibrant gaze. The music swells, the lights flash and thunder, but inside, I grapple with the knowledge that my little secret could anchor us down instead of setting us free.
We bob and sway, caught in the rhythms of the night. The band launches into a powerful ballad, and Scarlett closes her eyes, her head tilting back slightly, eyes fluttering like the wings of a captured bird. In that moment, all I see is her. The way her long hair catches the light, the way her lips part in an expression of pure bliss. It’s intoxicating. My heart contracts so tightly I can barely breathe.
I want to tell her how she makes me feel—alive yet chaotic, like a shooting star burning bright in the dark. She’s a force of nature, and I’m caught in her orbit, spiraling into a world of endless possibilities.
As the song draws to a close, the lead singer commands the stage, rallying the crowd. I call for Scarlett’s attention, pulling her close enough that our foreheads touch. “I’m going to play soon,” I murmur, trying to keep my voice steady despite the tremble in my hands.
“Really? You’re in a band?” She beams, the curiosity smoothening the edges of her worry.
“Yo, Whit, where’ve you been, man? Our set starts in twenty!” Lennox slaps me on the back with more force than necessary. I didn’t tell them about Scarlett, and he hasn’t noticed her standing beside me yet.
“I’m here, chill,” I grit out, my eyes still locked on Scarlett. Normally, I’m on top of everything—making sure we’re where we need to be, but tonight? Tonight is different.
The dimly lit venue thrums with anticipation. I lean against the backstage wall, watching the crowd across the velvet rope. It’s a mass of excitement—laughter, chatter, and the faint hum of the instruments being tuned. My heart races, not just because of the impending show but because of the woman beside me, her presence somehow grounding and thrilling.
Scarlett turns to me, her hair whipping around her shoulders like she just stepped off a magazine cover. “Wait, you didn’t tell me this was your show!” Her eyes widen, a mix of disbelief and surprise dancing in their depths. I can almost see the gears turning in her mind, recalling the hints I dropped at the café and through texts earlier today.
“Surprise,” I say, raising my hands in mock grandeur, aware that she was not in the audience for any typical performance; she was here for me, for Whit, the guy who’d played her song, who’d shared moments of vulnerability over the clinking of coffee cups.
“This is Lennox, our drummer. Nox, this is Scarlett,” I introduce, trying to keep it casual. Nox looks at me, eyebrows raised, but quickly schools his expression as he holds out his hand toward her.
“Nice to meet you, love,” he purrs, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He’s intentionally trying to get a rise out of me. The sight of her hand in his makes my blood boil, the unexpected jealousy washing over me in a tide I can’t hold back. I pull her against my chest, wrapping an arm possessively around her waist, as if to mark my territory.
Nox laughs and shakes his head, no doubt intrigued by my sudden defensiveness. I never bring anyone to shows, but with Scarlett it’s different, and it scares me in a way I’m not ready to admit.
“There’s Blaine over there talking to the brunette in the corner. He’s our bass guitarist,” I mention, pointing to where Blaine is lost in conversation, clearly charming another girl.
Her eyes dart across the bustling backstage, lingering momentarily on the glittering costumes and bustling crew. I step closer, desperately wanting her attention to be on me, needing her to see beyond the stage to the person beneath the rockstar facade.
“Scarlett,” I say softly, my voice barely audible over the background noise. “I know it’s hard to understand, but the person you see up there—that’s not the whole story.” I reach out, gently touching her arm, hoping she’ll feel the sincerity in my touch. “There’s so much more to me than what you see under the spotlight.”
She shakes her head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe this.”
“Believe it, babe,” Nox smirks, his playful tone a stark contrast to my seriousness. “So, Krista wants to make sure we’re ready to light up the house.”
Her eyes widen even more, if that’s possible. “So, let me get this straight. You’re not just in a band but you’re the one that’s headlining?”
I nod, grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah, I wanted to show you a different side of me first. The real me.”
Her eyes finally meet mine, and for a fleeting moment, the chaotic world around us seems to fade. “I want to know the real you,” she whispers, her voice filled with curiosity. She squeezes my hand as she continues to take in our surroundings. “So, what’s the name of your band?”
“Chaos Theory,” I reply, my hands instinctively slipping into my pockets as uncertainty washes over me. Would she recognize us? I’m torn between wanting her to know who we are and fearing the shadows of fame.
Scarlett scrunches her brows together, maybe a hint of recognition flickering in her eyes. “That name sounds familiar... I think ?” Her nerves are palpable as she wrings her hands together.
“What’s wrong?” I gently capture her hands, halting her fidgeting.
“I just haven’t kept up with music lately. I’m sorry,” she admits, an apologetic wince spreading across her face.
I feel a strange blend of relief and adoration washing over me. “Hey, look at me. I really like that you didn’t know who I was.”
Her gaze darts between my eyes and the chaos around us, her expression shifting to something more calming. “Really? Is that why you didn’t tell me?”
My cheeks flush slightly with embarrassment as I shrug. “I guess. I wanted you to see me for who I am, not just the guy on stage.”
Stepping closer, her hand brushes against mine, sending a shiver down my spine. “I get it. And for what it’s worth, I think it’s pretty amazing. So, why Chaos Theory?” she asks.
“Because,” I begin, choosing my words carefully, “just like chaos theory, our lives and our music are filled with complexity and unpredictability. Every note we play, every lyric we write, it might seem random and wild, but there’s an underlying pattern to it all. We’re a bunch of chaotic elements coming together to create something powerful and beautiful.”
Lennox, ever the pragmatic one, nodded in agreement. “It makes sense. Our music is like a storm—unpredictable, but with an undeniable force behind it.”
“And,” I added, my voice softer now, “we’ve all been through our own battles, faced our own demons. This band is a testament to our resilience, our ability to find order in the chaos of our lives.”
Scarlett smiled, reaching out to take my hand. “I love it.”
“Thanks. Now, let’s give you a night to remember.” With that, I lead her towards the green room, the noise of the audience fading away as we step into our sanctuary.
Inside our sanctuary, the walls echo with tales of past performances and wild nights. Blaine plops down on the couch, casually checking the strings on his bass while a groupie tries to perch on his lap, hungry for his attention. Poor girl won’t get much from him until after the show. “Scarlett, this is Blaine.” He acknowledges her with a slight nod before turning back to his bass, leaving us to navigate the buzzing ambiance.
Scarlett looks at all the band gear scattered around, the vibrant posters on the walls depicting previous shows. “This is different.” Her eyes sparkle with intrigue as she takes it all in.
“It is,” I agree, leaning against the wall beside her.
Nox is at the makeshift bar, pouring himself a drink as Scarlett’s eyes roam the space. The disorder of instruments, scattered setlists, and the almost absurd display of our “all you can snort buffet,” I feel a flutter of concern. She is such a good girl, and I doubt she’s ever encountered half of this world in her life.
Her face pales, a stark contrast against the dim lighting. I can see the unease flicker in her eyes as she takes it all in.
Intertwining my fingers with hers, I pull her focus back to me. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” I brush a few errant strands of hair behind her ear and gently lift her chin so she could meet my gaze.
“It’s all so…much,” she confesses, worrying her bottom lip. Her eyes, bright yet uncertain, reveal the internal battle of excitement and intimidation raging within her. I almost hear the internal dialogue warring in her mind, excitement battling with intimidation.
“It’s okay if you feel out of place,” I mutter, my thumb tracing soothing circles on her cheek. “But you belong here with me, and I want you to feel comfortable.”
She bites her lip, a hint of uncertainty in her gaze. “I’m not sure I fit in with a rock band.”
“Stick with me,” I say, my voice carrying a promise. “I’ll show you how we can make this work together.”
“Keep talking like that and I might just keep you,” she admits, but as soon as the words leave her lips she glances away, swallowing hard.
I can tell she’s been hurt before. It’s in the way she hesitates, the fleeting moments of doubt that flicker in her eyes. But as she stands here, I see a spark of something else—hope, maybe, or the desire to let go and trust again.
“Hey, I want you to keep me,” I whisper, kissing her forehead.
Her breath hitches before taking a deep, steadying breath. “It’s just... I’ve never been part of something like this. It’s amazing, but also a little intimidating.”
I open my mouth to respond, but she continues, “Not that I think I’m part of this. No, of course not. I just mean, you know, I’ve just never dated or, um, is this a date? I–”
Her adorable rambling makes me chuckle. I place my hands tenderly on her cheeks, resting my thumb over her lips to silence her.
“Breathe, gorgeous,” I murmur, leaning in close so she can feel my warmth. “You’re here with me, and that’s all that matters. And yes, Scarlett, this is a date.”
As her breathing evens out, her eyes meet mine again, steadiness blooming in their depths. “Okay,” she breathes, a small, hopeful smile emerging despite the chaos around us.
At this moment, I know two things for certain; I want to be the rockstar she sees on stage, but even more, I want to be the man who holds her hand and whispers sweet assurances in quiet moments, away from the limelight.
“I want you stage side so I can keep my eyes on you the whole time I’m out there.” Her surprise is evident but she nods, and in a reckless moment, I slam my lips to hers.
It’s tender at first, but just tasting her strawberry chapstick and feeling her sweet body pressed against mine stokes the fire inside of me into a desire so overwhelming it’s almost primal. One kiss told me that my sweet little flame was mine, binding us in a shadowed embrace that seeped into my very soul, leaving an indelible mark of possession and fate. There’s no way she can escape me now. I’ll stalk the shit out of her if I have to.
A knock sounds against the door before the bar manager barges in. “Five minutes!” she shouts, startling Scarlett and making her jump away from me as if we were caught in a scandal.
I feel irritation bristle under my skin at the thought of us hiding from the world, hiding from our budding connection.
Krista, the manager, scrambles out when she sees my annoyance. I pull Scarlett closer, my fingers tracing the delicate curve of her jaw. “Don’t worry about them,” I murmur, my voice low and reassuring. “You’re with me and we don’t have to hide.”
She bobs her head slightly, her eyes searching mine. “I just don’t want to tarnish your playboy rockstar reputation.” Her smile is small, yet it doesn’t reach her eyes, revealing the conflict swirling within her.
I tilt her chin up, forcing her to look into my eyes. “Scarlett, I don’t care about any of that. You’re the only one who matters to me right now.”
Her lips part slightly, and I feel her breath catch. “Really? You barely even know me,” she murmurs, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
I smile, my grip on her tightening just a bit. “I know enough to know that I want to know everything about you. And I’m willing to take the time to learn.”
She blushes, her cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink. “I just don’t want to mess things up for you.”
“You won’t,” I assure her, my thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “You’re perfect just the way you are, and I don’t want anyone else. You’re the spark in my darkness, the melody in my chaos. You see the real me, not just the stage persona. You make me feel alive in a way no one else can.”
“I- really? Out of all the people you could be with...”
“You’re everything I’ve been looking for, Scarlett. And I don’t give a fuck what anyone else thinks.”
Her lips part slightly, and I capture them in a kiss. It’s not gentle—it’s raw and passionate, a claim as much as it is a promise. When we finally pull away, I rest my forehead against hers, our breaths mingling.
“I want you to trust me,” I murmur, my voice intense and sincere. “Give me a chance to show you.
A nervous laugh bubbles from her chest as she tries to look away. “I’m far from who you should be with, Whit. I mean look at you, then look at me. This doesn’t even make sense. You could have—“
“Stop.” My voice is firm, almost a hiss as I tilt her chin up, forcing her gaze back to mine. “Don’t you compare yourself to anyone else. You’re strong, smart, and beautiful in ways I don’t think you even realize. I want you .”
She looks at me, eyes wide and vulnerable. “But…”
“Scarlett, when I’m on stage, it’s your name that will be echoing in my mind. Every song, every note, it’s all for you.” I lean in closer, my voice dropping to a husky whisper. She gasps, the uncertainty in her eyes starting to fade.
Before she can respond, the door swings open again, and the bar manager pokes her head in. “Two minutes, Whit,” she says, her tone all business. Fuck, she has the worst timing.
I nod, acknowledging her before turning back to Scarlett. I grab her hand, pulling her behind me as we pile out of the door.
We head towards the stage. I can feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins. The roar of the crowd grows louder, and I take a deep breath, ready to give them a performance they’ll never forget.
“Stay here, Scarlett. I want to see those intoxicating eyes on me the whole night,” I murmur in her ear, watching the goosebumps explode over her skin. She hops on the bench and nods, crossing her legs. “Good girl.” Heat blossoms on her face, and I can’t help but wonder how far down that blush reaches.
As I step into the spotlight, my thoughts remain with Scarlett, the girl who’s stolen my heart. She may have doubts, but she’ll soon learn that when something is mine, I don’t let it go. And Scarlett Calhoun is mine .
I sling my guitar strap over my shoulder, feeling the weight settle comfortably against my back. My fingers find the familiar curve of the pick in my pocket, and I take one last glance at my little flame perched on the side of the stage. Scarlett’s beauty radiates like a beacon that draws eyes without her even realizing it. But her gaze is fixed on me, and that alone fuels the fire in my veins. I give her a quick wink before the curtains part and the roar of the crowd hits us like a wave.
The stage lights explode to life, illuminating a sea of screaming fans, their energy palpable. I step up to the mic, the adrenaline surging.
“Hello Cleveland!” I thunder, my voice amplified through the cavernous venue. The crowd’s response is a tidal wave of sound, a symphony of pure, unadulterated excitement.
Tonight, we’re not just playing for our fans. In the shadows at the back, I know the A&R reps are watching, scouting for the next big act. We’re here to show them why Chaos Theory is the band that’s going to rock their world.
“I want to hear you singing with me,” I yell out to the crowd, watching as they go nuts at me striking my first chord.
The noise is deafening, a perfect blend of power and precision. Every strum of my guitar feels like an extension of my soul, each note a piece of my story. I glance at Scarlett again, her eyes wide with awe and pride, and it’s like gasoline on a flame.
Her gaze ignites something deep inside me, and I channel that raw energy into the music, knowing that tonight will change everything.