Chapter Thirty-Two
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
BONNIE
Performance days are always a fucking blur.
Wake up. Caffeinate. Soundcheck. Press. Photos. Shovel down some fucking food. Try to take a break and touch some grass because the fact that this is our lives is a wild dream that I need to make sure isn’t just in my head.
And then play for thousands of chanting fans who know our lyrics by heart.
It’s fucking insane, and it’s my favorite thing in the entire world.
I could live on the stage for the rest of my life and never get tired of it.
However, right now, sitting on the grass with Zeb while we wake up and wait for all of that to come… It’s one of my favorite moments, too.
I’m still reeling from last night, still coming down from the high of the whole night—fighting with and fucking Gemma, stealing glances and flirting with her all night at Foster’s party, even convincing her to join in on one of the video games.
I needed that.
I needed her to put me in my place, to call me out on my default push-back.
And for a few hours, I didn’t think about the phone call.
She left me a couple of hours after midnight when we got in from Foster’s party. And despite my valiant attempt at getting her to stay with me, she shook her head, kissed my hand, and told me she’d see me in the morning.
“If you need me, my trailer is right there,” Gemma says, pointing at the one nearby.
“I need you,” I say, swaying in the door. “Don’t even leave. I need you.”
“Bonnie…” Her eyes dart to my lips, and before she has a chance to leave, I kiss her.
I swear, my heart has never dropped the way it does when I kiss her.
Even with Kelsey… it didn’t feel exactly like this. Kissing Gemma makes my toes curl, my hair stand. I lose myself in every blissful second, and I can’t say that I want to ever recover.
I rub my hand behind my neck and close my eyes, replaying it over and over as the sun hits my face.
My back hits the side of the trailer when I pull her into me. I can feel her trying to stop, trying to control this beast that surfaces every time we’re near one another. And finally, after a few moments, we part, both of us breathless.
“That’s why I can’t stay,” she says, her chest heaving. “I won’t be able to stop.”
I swallow and nod, my heart racing. “Okay.”
My phone buzzes in my hand, and I peer down at it, eyes finally opening.
GEMMA
Did you survive the night?
I smile at the screen.
Barely.
I went to your trailer early. Thought I could kick Kade and Liam out so I could have you for breakfast.
Sounds like something Bonnie-with-her-shit-together gets to experience in the future.
I laugh despite myself.
Rude.
Having to leave you after that kiss last night was also rude.
I’ll see you at soundcheck this morning. Please don’t be late.
Happy concert day, Bonnie.
I stare at our messages for another second, only closing my phone and setting it on the blanket when Zeb passes me our cigarette. I take a long draw and press my palm onto the ground behind me, relaxing as we take in the morning sunrise.
“I did a thing,” I say, breaking our morning silence.
Zeb sips his coffee and rests his arms on his bent knees. “I wondered what that little smile was about. You text your stalker again?” he asks.
Oh shit .
My stalker.
Thank fuck she isn’t here this weekend.
“Ah… I mean, I’ve done that, too, but I meant something bigger than that,” I manage.
“Okay… spill,” he says.
“So, Gemma. Yesterday after—before Foster’s party, we—”
Zeb takes the cigarette out of his mouth and eyes me sideways. “Spit it out.”
“I fucked Gemma,” I blurt.
“Finally,” he mutters.
“Well, actually, she… she fucked me. Until I cried,” I admit.
Zeb chuckles deviously. “You cried?” he asks.
“I was sobbing ,” I say, hands flopping in my lap.
Zeb’s laughter grows, and I shove him.
“Shut up. I tried pushing her away—”
He balks slightly, brows narrowed. “Like… she wouldn’t take no for an answer, or you tried pulling your usual ‘ you shouldn’t love me ’ bullshit?” he asks.
“The latter,” I say, brushing him off.
He turns his head in my direction. “Why does it feel like you’re still not telling me something?”
“Probably because it’s happened before,” I say. “Well, not exactly the same thing. She rode my hand in the elevator foyer at the studio the other week.”
“What the fuck.” Zeb curls over laughing. “What about the girl you had at the apartment the other night? The one who tied you up?”
“That was nothing. I was horny,” I argue.
It was my stalker.
And she railed me until I screamed Gemma’s name.
He shakes his head. “So, what’s the issue? Why didn’t she stay the night?”
“She wants what I can’t give her. Yet . I’d say fuck it except… I don’t know. It doesn’t feel like something I just want to be casual about,” I say. “Like I want it to be more.”
“Scary,” he says.
“Fucking terrifying, dude. Why am I like this? Why can’t this be easy?”
“Because you need therapy,” he says.
My jaw drops, and I punch him in the side. “Dude.”
He laughs. “Am I wrong?”
“I—no,” I admit. “I keep meaning to get the name of Andi’s therapist. What, Lana something, right?”
“I have no idea,” he says. “Mads would know. You should ask him.”
Zeb’s phone buzzes. “Speak of the devil,” he says, showing off his phone. “Soundcheck time.”
“—thinking something like this.” I tap a beat out on the coffee table in the dressing room, and Mads grins. “Suspense into the breakdown like—” I keep going, and he nods along with it. I can see the wheels turning in his mind, the master of creativity at work plotting out something gnarly.
We’re all huddled in one of the smaller dressing rooms hours later. Soundcheck, done. Interview with the radio station, done. Lunch, done.
Chill out time before we fuck these people’s faces off?
In progress.
Mads and I are hoping to get some work done before we each start our rituals. The band before us is onstage now, and as much as I’d love to watch some of their set, getting this song out feels more important.
“This sounds dangerous,” Andi says as she enters the dressing room, snacks and drinks in hand. “I can already tell it’s going to be epic.”
I laugh when she sets an energy drink on the table and two more on the vanity counter.
“This one is all her,” Mads says. “This is her baby.”
“Ha. Right. It’d be all beats if that were the case. You’re the lyricist,” I tell him.
“Get hyped, motherfuckers!” Zeb announces as he comes in the door, arms up. “Tonight is—oh shit,” he pauses, seeing Reed laying on the floor, headphones on and his arm over his face. “Damn, is he already in the zone?” he asks us.
“About ten minutes,” Mads says. “Said he didn’t sleep well after coming in from Foster’s last night. Honestly? I think he misses Wren.”
“Poor baby,” I say, though judging by the pout on Reed’s face every time he looked at his phone last night, I know it’s true. “I wish she was here.”
Mads and Andi glance at one another, and my eyes widen.
“Shut up. When?” I ask.
“She said she’s trying to make it by the time you go on,” Andi answers, checking her phone. “Flights were all over the place with delays, and then traffic getting here.”
“At least she’ll be here after,” Mads says. “That’ll be just as good for him.”
The door opens again, revealing Stella, Liam, Kade, and finally, Gemma.
I love the way she looks on concert day.
The joggers tucked into her combat boots, snug tee showing off her muscles—a big “try me, motherfucker” display that I’m sure she uses to her advantage with these crowds. And her resting bitch face? She could choke me like that, and I’d thank her.
If I can just get through today… tomorrow… All without doing anything stupid… maybe I can be firm with my stalker. I can cut her off—tell her it’s officially over.
Why can’t they just be the same person?
It’s a stupid thought, but it plagued me half the night as I sat on the back of the couch and watched Reed and Foster game. Every time I glanced over at her standing in the corner watching over us, I wondered. Flashes of the way my stalker handled me in the club, in front of my mirror, blindfolded… Gemma’s face fills me when I think of it now.
I know my stalker isn’t her. My stalker has texted me while Gemma and I were together, so it can’t be her.
Still…
A small part of me wishes it were true.
Mads kicks Reed’s shin, prompting him to flinch. Reed narrows his brows, but sits up nonetheless when he spots our team coming into the room.
“Okay, gang. We are officially one band from set time,” Stella says, prompting us to collectively clap and celebrate. “Everything looks ready. All I ask, Reed, is that you don’t crowd surf tonight.”
“Boooo,” Zeb says, and we laugh.
“Why not?” Reed asks.
Stella glances Gemma’s way, and Gemma tucks her arms across her chest.
“Security has been breaking up more fights than usual today,” she says. “They don’t know if it’s just a group of bad apples or something else to worry about. They’ve asked for bands to stay within the barriers, and they sought me out specifically because they know how you like to get in the crowd.”
Reed’s brows narrow. “Are we really abiding by this? We’ve had venues tell us that before, and we told them to fuck off.”
“Oh, believe me, I want to tell them to fuck off,” she agrees. “I don’t like places telling you you can’t be yourselves, and your fans know you usually jump in there.”
“So… what do you want us to do?” Zeb asks.
“I want all of you to be smart,” she replies, gaze moving between us. “Watch each other’s backs. If you see something, communicate. Watch your pit circles. Don’t be afraid of pausing to tell people to get their shit together and not run over someone. I’ll be running around everywhere. Liam is at the front of the stage. Kade will be in the wings. I brought in a few extra guards who are also in the walk so that it isn’t just venue security. It’s people I trust. Reed, I want you to signal when you want to get in the crowd—”
“I usually do that during Pieces ,” Reed says. “Right before our break.”
“Then let’s keep it that way,” she replies. “If, for any reason, I think it’s a bad idea, I’ll let you know. Watch Liam during that song. He’ll give you a yes or no.”
Reed nods. “Okay.”
“You guys have anything for us?” Kade asks.
We all look at each other and shake our heads.
“Can’t think of anything,” Mads says.
“Nothing for me,” I agree.
“Okay. That’s all I have,” Gemma says. “You guys are going to fucking kill it.”
Gemma claps her hands together, and as Kade and Liam sit down at the vanity counter to chat with Zeb, Andi steps over my legs to take a seat between Mads and I.
“I need my cuddles,” she says, settling between us.
I chuckle, take my headphones from around my neck, and then reach for the energy drink she brought. “You were making me a little lonely when you sat over there,” I say. “I thought I did something wrong.”
Andi laughs. “I didn’t want to interrupt the groove you two had going on. Especially when I know I’m getting kicked out in about five minutes.”
“Hey, Bonnie.”
Gemma’s voice makes my heart do a little jump, and I find myself drowning when I look at her. My cheeks warm as she nods toward the door and gestures for me to join her. Andi nudges me, and I flip her off discreetly as I stand, then stuff my hands into my hoodie.
Gemma holds the door open for me to exit, and I follow behind her where she leads me a few feet away.
“Hey,” I say, watching her lean against the wall. “What’s up?”
The confidence that radiates off of her when she’s all “bodyguard” makes me ache. Her shoulders are somehow cornered on me, back straight, face stern, yet somehow still soft when she looks at me.
“So, I’ll be on Reed tonight, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be watching for anything suspicious for you, too,” she says.
I smile a little. “I don’t think anyone is touching me up on a platform.”
“No, but that doesn’t mean someone won’t try to get to you after the show,” she replies. “Wait for me backstage after. Once you all sign autographs, do not go anywhere without me.”
She looks scared, and if she’s scared…
“I mean it, Bonnie,” she says, her voice softening. “Don’t even go with Kade or Liam. You wait for me.”
A muscle in her jaw feathers, and I tilt my head at the sight of it.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
She rubs her neck as if her muscles are tense. “I just don’t trust anyone except myself to keep you safe,” she admits.
Guilt sits in the pit of my stomach. “If this is about me yelling at you—”
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “No, it isn’t about that. You were right. I should have been there. I won’t make that mistake again.”
I cross my arms over my chest and let my gaze wander a little over her, to the point that Gemma shifts, and I smile a little at the fact that I’m getting to her.
“You’re fucking killing me when you do that,” she says softly.
“Not as much as it’s killing me when you look like this,” I argue. “If this is what our future looks like when we go on tour next year, I’m a goner.”
Gemma smirks and pushes off the wall, her hands in her pockets like she thinks she won’t be able to keep them to herself if she doesn’t. She takes two steps in my direction, shoulder aligning with mine, and pauses at my side.
“You’d be a goner right now if you were ready,” she says, eyes dragging from my eyes to my lips. “I have so many suggestions to add to your show day rituals.”
“Like what?” I ask, chin hitting my shoulder.
She huffs an amused breath, and as she leans closer, my eyes flutter closed. “Like waking you with a steaming morning cup of coffee by your bed, and my tongue between your thighs.”
The rasping way she says it sends goosebumps breaking along my flesh.
“I’d take my time with you in the shower after—washing your hair, massaging your body, taking my careful time to make sure you’re only thinking of the music when you hit that stage. Because everything else… your hunger, your thirst, your satisfaction… All of that would have been taken care of— everything , so you never have to. Because once you’re mine…”
She presses her knuckle to my chin and lifts my face, forcing me to look at her. A soft smirk lifts her lips, a quiet giggle escaping her. I’m on the edge as I wait for her to finish the sentence and tell me what will happen when I give in to this.
However, she slides her hand around my throat, turns my head with her thumb, and presses her open mouth to my jaw. Her teeth drag slightly against my skin as she nips and kisses me. And when she angles my head toward her again, I pathetically lean forward.
Just a taste.
But she dodges my kiss, pats my cheek, and kisses my nose instead.
“Have a good show, Bonnie.”
I’m dead.
I groan when she releases me, back hitting the wall to keep from stumbling. And it’s that wicked smirk that she gives me over her shoulder that nearly puts me in tears.
“Oh, come on , babygirl—”
“The ball is in your court, Bonnie,” she interjects, still walking away from me. She pivots and grins, hands back in her pockets when she says, “Tell me what you’re going to do about it.”
Goddammit.
I need this weekend to be over already.
I’m ready to grovel for this woman as I watch her walk away from me, her perfect ass swaying. I’m still staring when she makes her way down the steps and out of the stage area, replaying every touch, that fucking kiss…
Andi stepping into my sightline with wide eyes pulls me out of the daze.
“And… you’re not with her yet because…” she says, advancing on me.
“It’s complicated,” I say.
“Yes, it looks very complicated,” she says. “It looked so complicated when she had you pushed against the wall with her hand around your throat.”
I shove her, laughing. “Get out of here,” I jokingly tell her. “You’re distracting.”
Andi laughs. “Have fun trying to focus,” she taunts, walking past me to the exit. “Happy rituals.”
Yeah, my focus is about to be absolute shit.
I push the door to the dressing room open to a quiet, tense room. Mads is getting his hoodie and headphones on for his walk around the venue, Reed is setting up on the floor for his meditation, and Zeb is already pacing, jabbing at the walls as his favorite crime podcast plays.
I grab my headphones so I can begin my own routine, and when the first beat of the playlist blasts through the speakers, I run my sticks down the length of the vanity countertop, ending with a few hits on the wall.
Let’s fucking go.