Chapter 11 #2
The diner is loud, half-empty, and smells like grease and coffee. The waitress barely glances up as we slide into a booth in the back—Jace and Ash on one side, Silas and Micah squeezed in the middle, Jasper and I pressed together at the end. My leg bumps his under the table. He doesn’t move away.
Menus are passed around, mostly ignored. Ash orders half the menu. Jace tries to charm the waitress; she rolls her eyes and asks if he’s going to tip better than last time. Silas drums on the table with a fork until Micah snatches it, saying something about drawing attention to us.
I snap a few candid shots—Jace making faces, Ash arguing over pancakes or lunch, Silas drumming with his fingertips now, unimpressed. Jasper watches me, the hint of a smirk curling his lips every time I lower my camera.
Food comes fast. I pick at my fries, half-listening to the banter, feeling like maybe I fit here. Jasper nudges my plate closer, steals one of my fries, and leans in, voice low.
“You did well today,” he says, eyes on mine. “Didn’t let them see how much you hate this shit.”
I shrug, lips twitching. “I’m good at hiding.”
He leans even closer, mouth brushing my ear so only I can hear. “Just don’t hide from me.”
My face goes hot. Ash waggles his eyebrows across the table, but nobody says anything—just another moment swallowed by the noise of a band that doesn’t know how to be quiet.
***
The diner’s noise fades as we spill out into the sun, blinking and stretching like we’ve all just survived something bigger than lunch.
Ash is still bragging about his pancakes.
Jace is still flirting with the waitress through the glass.
I’m double-checking my camera bag, quietly relieved to have made it through the morning mostly unscathed.
And then chaos finds us.
A high, breathless shriek cuts through the haze. I glance up just in time to see a trio of girls racing across the street—phones already out, eyeliner smudged, nerves buzzing in the air. They stop right in front of Jasper, tripping over each other in their rush.
“Oh my God, it’s really them—Jasper! Jasper!”
More show up, and then they’re everywhere at once, shoving their phones in his face, trying to get closer, maybe for a selfie, maybe to touch. Jace slides between them with a smooth “Hey, we’re just here for food, yeah?” but it’s like he’s invisible.
Ash flexes for one girl’s camera, putting on a show. Silas goes still, eyes flat and unreadable. Micah tries to disappear behind me, muttering, “Every single time.”
Then suddenly, one of them spots me. Her gaze sharpens, mouth twisting. “Wait—who’s she? Is she your girlfriend?” She whips her phone up, lens pointed right at my face. “Are you guys together? That’s the girl from the backstage photos, right?”
Backstage photos? My pulse spikes. My mind races, scrambling to remember—did someone snap a picture of me last night? Was there something I missed, or did I do something wrong? I bite the inside of my lip, anxiety crawling up my spine. What the hell are they talking about?
Before I can ask or defend myself, she reaches out, grabbing at my arm like she’s entitled to answers.
Jasper’s there in a heartbeat—his arm banding around my waist, pulling me behind him. He’s not gentle, but he’s careful. He glares at her, voice flat and dangerous. “She’s with us. Back off.”
But they don’t. The questions get louder, voices shrill, flashes blinding. Someone with a battered press lanyard shoves forward, waving his phone. “Sawyer! Is it true you’re living with the band now? Are you the inspiration for the new songs? Any comment on what happened last night?”
What happened last night? My mouth goes dry. Panic consumes. Did anyone see us? Did I say something, do something, end up on someone’s story? My cheeks burn, and not in a good way. I’m suddenly sure everyone’s watching, everyone knows, everyone’s judging.
Ash tries to play it off—“We just came for fries, man!”—but the girls keep shouting, and the press guy shoves his phone even closer. Silas steps in, voice like stone. “Back. Off.”
It’s too much—too loud, too close, the spotlight I never wanted. My hand tightens on my camera bag, heart racing. I can’t even focus, my vision swimming with panic.
Jasper’s grip never wavers. He leans down, voice low and hot at my ear.
“Eyes on me, baby. Just me. Don’t give them what they want.”
For a second, I do. I look up, lock on his dark eyes, hear him calling me ’baby’, and everything else falls away. It’s just us, just that fierce promise in the set of his jaw, the way his thumb strokes circles into my hip.
The crowd hesitates, energy shifting as Jasper stares them down. The press guy grumbles and lowers his phone. The girls step back, suddenly sheepish.
Jace flings an arm around Ash. “No more interviews! We’re off the clock.”
Ash bows over-the-top, and somehow the guys herd me back toward the bus.
Jasper keeps his arm around me the whole way. The adrenaline doesn’t let up until we get on the bus. Only then does he finally let go—just enough to turn me and cup my cheek, his thumb brushing away some invisible tremor.
“This is what it’s like, Sawyer. With me, you’re never just invisible.”
His words hang between us—promise, warning, threat. Maybe all three.
And in that moment, I’m not sure if I’m terrified, addicted…or about to find out what they really saw last night.
The bus door slams shut behind us, cutting off the shouts, the flashes, the wild world outside. But it doesn’t quiet my mind. Not even close.
I barely make it to my bunk before I’m pulling out my phone, hands shaking. I need to see what they saw—what I missed. My notifications are already a disaster: tags, DMs, a hundred pings from people I barely know.
I search for my name first. It feels stupid, but necessary.
#SawyerMorrigan
#HerLastConfessional
#Backstage
There, I find videos from last night, shaky and blurry, but unmistakable.
I’m in the shadows at the side of the stage, camera in hand, eyes locked on Jasper.
There’s a photo of us—him standing too close, his hand just barely visible on my waist, my face tilted up, mouth open like I might say his name. Or beg for more.
My stomach knots. The comments are a wildfire.
“Who’s the new girl with Jasper?”
“Didn’t know HLC had a groupie this tour.”
“She’s the one from the leaked shot, right? Damn, look at that chemistry.”
“Wasn’t she in his IG story last night?”
“Bet she’s why he looked so smug during ‘Bleed for Me.’”
Then there’s the grainy clip from outside the venue—Jasper picking me up against the bus, everything else melting away. The angle is all wrong, but the intent is clear. Anyone watching would know.
Did I really make those sounds? Did he say my name like that?
I slam my phone face down, heart hammering, cheeks burning.
A shadow falls across my bunk.
Jasper.
He crouches, dark eyes searching mine. “You saw it, didn’t you?”
I want to deny it, but there’s no point in doing so. “Somebody filmed us. Last night. Backstage. The bus. It’s everywhere.” My voice cracks, shame mixing with something raw and dangerous.
He picks up my phone, thumb swiping through the chaos. Instead of anger, there’s a hint of pride—something darker, possessive.
“Let them watch,” he says, voice silk and gravel. “They want a show? I’ll give them one. As long as you remember who you belong to.”
His hand cups my cheek, thumb pressing just hard enough to make my pulse jump.
“Was it you?” I whisper, breathless. “Did you know they were watching?”
He smirks. “Does it matter? They’d find out eventually. This way, they know you’re mine.”
And suddenly, I can’t decide if I’m more afraid of the world knowing… or how much I want to give him even more to see.
***
The back of the bus is quiet, shadows stretching across the floor as the sun dips. I find Silas sitting alone, feet propped on the seat across from him, drumsticks rolling between his fingers. He looks up as I enter, and for once, his gaze is soft.
He nods to the empty seat beside him. “You doing okay?”
I hesitate, then sit down, hugging my knees to my chest. “Honestly? Not really.”
He sets the drumsticks aside and leans forward, elbows on his knees. “I saw the photos online. The fans, the comments… It’s a lot.”
A flush creeps up my cheeks. “I didn’t know anyone was watching last night. It just happened. Now it feels like everyone’s seen more of me than I ever wanted.”
Silas shrugs, with the hint of a smile on his lips. “Welcome to tour life. Nothing stays private for long. Doesn’t mean it’s fair. But none of this is on you, Sawyer. People are always looking for something to talk about.”
His voice turns serious. “Jasper can make things intense. He’s always been like that—possessive, a little reckless with the people he cares about. Sometimes he forgets there’s a world outside the one he’s built for himself.”
I look down, picking at a loose thread on my dress. “It’s overwhelming. Like I’m not sure where I fit anymore.”
He lets out a quiet laugh, not unkind. “That’s how it starts. Then you realize you fit where you decide to fit. Not where anyone—Jasper included—tells you.”
There’s a long moment of comfortable silence, the kind that feels like an understanding more than anything else.
Silas gives me a look that’s all big brother—no nonsense, all care. “If you ever feel like you’re drowning, come find me. It doesn’t matter if it’s Jasper, the band, the fans, any of it. I’m here. Even if all you need is someone to listen.”
The tightness in my chest loosens. I nod, offering a weak but genuine smile. “Thanks, Silas. Really.”
He shrugs, back to rolling his drumsticks between his fingers. “Anytime. Seriously. You’re part of the band now.”
For the first time all day, I let myself believe it’s true.
JASPER
The bus rocks through the dark, engine humming steadily, everyone lost in their own world—except me. Mine, Sawyer, is right here, sinking into the couch with her laptop lighting her face up.