Thirty-Three
THIRTY-THREE
WHAT GOOD IS AN ALMOST
As we make our way to our meet and greet line, I slip my arm around Kick’s waist.
“You okay?”
Jasmine and Emily are walking in front of us. Emily doesn’t know to catch our private moment and send it to her TikTok contact.
“I’m here,” I whisper.
Kick’s eyes tell me thank you, that he’s glad I’m here, but he doesn’t offer anything more. And that’s okay. I know he’ll tell me more if he needs to.
Our signing line is longer than ever, everyone wanting to know if the hug meant we’re official. We dodge, telling fans we were just caught up in the moment. I doubt they believe us. I certainly don’t.
After we’ve signed the last autograph and the venue is mostly cleared out, we follow Jasmine and Emily to the elevator that goes down to the backstage concourse. The doors open and we all four get on, Emily standing between me and Kick. She prattles on about the success of tonight’s show and how long the signing line was and how much merch we’re selling and how we’re her little superstars. I don’t see how Emily and Jasmine don’t notice the electric current running between me and Kick. It’s as tangible as a burst streamer cannon, waves of crepe paper floating all around us.
All during the signing line we kept catching each other’s eye, our hands grazing, Kick touching me every chance he could. It’s obvious the unanswered question that’s hovered over us since the start of the tour is about to be answered.
Back underground, Cheddar sees us in the hall and raises his hand for a high-five. “What a set tonight, guys. We need to respond while things are hot. Why don’t y’all go to one of your dressing rooms and shoot a video together about tonight’s show. Fans’ll love it. Send it to me when you’re done. I’ll make sure it’s posted to both your socials.”
Various crew members and tour people congratulate us on our set as we make our way down the hall.
“Great show tonight, y’all.”
“Killer tonight!”
“You two are solid. Respect.”
We walk into Kick’s dressing room as the Vampire Twins are on their way out, suitcases in hand.
“What’s on for tonight?” I ask.
“ Lost Boys ,” Miguel says, pumping his fist in the air. “Epic eighties fashion and Kiefer Sutherland is a vamp. You coming?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. We’ll be there as soon as we film this video thing for Cheddar.”
A Bluetooth speaker is playing a familiar song as they leave, but I can’t quite place it.
“What’s this song? I feel like I’ve heard it before.”
Kick’s eyes are shining. “It’s ‘Heaven’ from Bryan Adams. It’s…this is the cover I did. For the competition video submission.”
It’s an eighties power ballad, Bryan Adams’ voice raspy and emotional and a lot like Kick’s.
“We should add this to our set. I bet you sound incredible on it. ”
Kick holds out his hand. “Dance with me, Goldie.”
“We need to film this video and get on the bus.”
He reaches out further and takes my hand. “Dance with me.”
I let him pull me in. We don’t look at each other, just sway to the music, our feet shuffling against each other’s as we circle, slowly. My heart revs into high gear with Kick’s breath hot against my ear, his eyelashes brushing against my temple, his nose in my hair. The song fades out, the signal from Mateo’s phone no doubt out of reach. But we keep dancing. Kick hums the remainder of the song softly in my ear, the sound washing over me like warm water. Kick cradles our joined hands, resting mine over his heart. His other hand is on my lower back, pulling me into him. I willingly go.
His voice is low in my ear as he sings about waiting for love to come along. How I’m all he wants. All he needs.
It feels like an unraveling, the layers I’ve wrapped tightly around my heart slowly peeling away. I close my eyes and let my arm snake around his shoulder, let my hand rest on the back of his neck as he hums into my ear.
Our bodies, so close, radiate heat. If attraction is a flame, I am burning hot enough to set the entire arena ablaze. I look up at him and his smile is wide and happy.
“What’s that look?” I say, even though I know.
“It’s just…you normally look like you want to murder me or pants me or spit in my water bottle.”
“I do not.”
“But right now, you look really happy.”
I press my lips together, still scared to let him see how being with him lights me up inside. How he’s right. I am happy.
“Tell me,” he says, “what’s the happiest you’ve ever been. Your whole life. What’s your best, most perfect happy moment.”
I can’t say the thing that immediately pops into my head. I’m scared about what it could mean, what he would say, of all the things that could go wrong. Of getting hurt again. Being used. Stepped over. Forgotten .
But he shared a huge truth with me today, which I’m sure was a big risk for him. And he learned my truth and he’s still here, still looking at me like I’m the only girl in the whole world. My gut and my heart are telling me I can trust him, that we’re good together. He’s good. That has to mean something.
I slide my hand down his chest and around his waist. It feels natural, like we’ve always done this. Like we’ve always been us.
“The happiest I’ve ever been is when I’m on stage with you.”
Kick’s mouth pops open. “Yeah?”
My gigantic smile is answer enough but I still say yes. “It’s hard for me to admit. I’ve never been able to trust anyone or, when I have, they’ve always let me down.”
He squeezes my waist. “I’m scared too. If I’m honest, I don’t know what the hell we’re doing or what’s going to happen or how we even got here. Every day on this tour is like a fever dream. The only real thing I know is this.” He pulls me impossibly closer. “I’ve wanted you since the second I laid eyes on you. Now that I know you, I want you even more. Everything else we can figure out.”
He reaches his hands up to gently caress my face. My body knows what it wants, and it wants Kick. My brain rages reality so loud I’m sure he can hear it, but I don’t pull away. Because I want it, want him. So much.
I angle my face up, our lips so close, the moment so alive I can touch it. Kick leans in and presses his lips against mine.
“You guys got the video?” Cheddar calls, walking into the room.
Kick and I fly apart like we’ve been struck by lightning.
“We were just about to…do it,” Kick says and I cough into my elbow.
“I can film it, since I’m here,” Cheddar offers, oblivious.
“What, uh.” Words fail me. My legs are trembling. “What is it? You wanted us to say?”
“Thank people for coming to the show, talk about the upcoming shows, remind everyone to tune in to the livestream, follow you on socials, all the usual stuff.”
Cheddar holds up his phone and motions for us to start talking. Kick pulls me in, his arm slung casually around my shoulder. We paste on our practiced we’re-a-duo smiles for the camera and say all the things Cheddar’s commanded us to say. We do a couple of takes and once he’s satisfied with our performance, Cheddar walks out, tapping his phone as he goes.
“Better get moving, bus is rolling in five. I’ll post this for you both.”
When I move to follow him, Kick pulls me back.
“Wait.” His eyes on me are branding irons.
“The bus is leaving.”
He grabs my hand. “Not for five minutes.”
“It’s not enough time,” I say, shaking my head.
His eyebrow curves up. “Enough time for what?”
I take a few steps away from him, attempting to step outside his magnetic pull. “Time to go, Willard.”
He laughs, chasing after me. “That’s low, Goldie. Real low.”