Chapter 19 Backstage at Your Show
Backstage at Your Show
The next night came in the blink of an eye—partially because I was busy with end-of-semester festivities, but mostly because I was incredibly nervous.
Now that Grey and I were talking to each other after our stupid stalemate of second-guessing ourselves, all the questions I’d been asking myself since the wedding were once again thrown wide open.
Not to mention—and I’d only realized this after I’d had time to think about it in excruciating detail—this would be the most public display of any sort of “us” that existed at this school.
Everyone we jointly knew would be there.
And judging by everything Grey had told me, that likely included Carina.
What will she think of my presence? Does she know about the dance or us sharing the same bed? Do I care?
By the time I was pulling my shirt over my head in view of my bedroom mirror the night of the concert, I’d decided that I didn’t care.
My hair had grown during the semester, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gotten it cut.
It was now doing the wavy thing away from my face that I’d hated as a teenager, but I was growing content with it.
Josh and Kellan weren’t at the apartment to give me shit or worry over me seeing Grey at a concert his girlfriend would likely attend.
I’d all but forgotten their absence until I walked out to the living room, bracing myself for the looks of concern.
But they’d already gone home for the break.
I would be following them to my own hometown in the morning.
The concert was my last hurrah on campus for the calendar year, and I wasn’t about to let Carina ruin that for me. Even if she technically had more claim to Grey than I did.
My phone notified me that my Uber was waiting for me, so I hurried to pull on my jacket, checked myself one last time in the mirror over the dining table, and rushed downstairs.
The drive wasn’t long—just around ten minutes.
We pulled to a stop in front of the Nocturn.
It was probably the largest venue Grey had performed at so far.
At least it was the largest since I’d been paying attention.
The music could be heard from the street as I approached the building and went to the front of the line of people waiting to get in.
I walked straight up to the bouncer as Grey had instructed me to do over text earlier in the week, and I gave him my best totally not-nervous smile.
“I’m Ethan Cooper. I should be on the list?
” It felt like such an odd thing to say.
I should be on the list. My name had never been anywhere within a five-mile radius of a list before in my life.
But the bouncer didn’t question my words, and I must’ve been on his list because, the next thing I knew, he let me into the club.
I was motioned to go down a hallway separate from the one that would let me into the Nocturn proper.
Whatever song was playing had been reduced to its incessant beat.
Percussion hit rhythmically all around me, rebounding off the walls in a chaotic cacophony.
I could only hope that the song sounded better to those inside the club.
Once I made it to the end of the hallway, I was asked for my name again, which security verified with my driver’s license. Then I was let in.
The room was small, cozy even. It looked like a dressing room from TV. I recognized Dae and the rest of the band. They were in the middle of putting on stage makeup and barely looked up to see me enter. I guessed they expected me.
A couple of bored-looking girls scrolled on their phones with one hand, holding seltzers in the other. They hadn’t even looked up when I came in. In front of them was a low coffee table with a bucket full of ice and liquor next to some glasses—all of it untouched.
It was impossible to miss the complete absence of Grey. My face grew warm with embarrassment despite no one being particularly intrigued by my presence.
“Grey will be back in a minute,” Dae said. He’d finished his makeup and turned around. “He had to see to some last-minute sound checks.”
“Oh,” I said as Dae waltzed over to the liquor bucket and poured himself a vodka shot.
He gave me an appraising look then poured me one as well. I took it from him gratefully.
“Welcome to your first time backstage,” he said with an impish grin.
I was curious what he meant by that, but he held up his plastic cup to cheers me, so I tapped mine to his.
“Hopefully, it’s not my last,” I said with a nervous laugh.
Dae didn’t comment on that, but something in his eye gave me pause as we both drank our drinks.
Any thoughts on what that might mean were immediately scorched from my mind as my esophagus burned from the vodka.
I closed my eyes until the raging fire turned to a tame flicker of a flame that sat warmly in my stomach.
It was then that the door behind us opened, and I whirled to see Grey walk in. The moment I laid eyes on him, it was like the rest of the room melted away, and my whole body was taken over by the warmth in my belly.
How does he still do this to me? We’ve seen each other enough over the semester that the feelings stirring in me should be calming down, not intensifying, right?
If Grey was wearing stage makeup, I couldn’t tell. Then again, his eyelashes were already dark and long, his light-brown eyes always seemed to pop, and his skin was perfect, smooth, and clear.
His gaze landed on me, and he grinned. “Ethan, you’re here!”
I opened my mouth to respond when I finally noticed Carina trailing behind Grey, a sour expression. When she met my gaze, her eyes hardened into a glare.
“Y-yeah,” I stuttered, shaken by Carina’s presence. I cringed. Lame. So lame.
“We’re just about to go onstage for a sound check. You can stand backstage to watch. If you want.” He added the last part in a rush, almost nervously.
I smiled softly. Maybe I wasn’t the only flustered one in the room. Grey was usually so confident that it was cute to see him like this. “I’d love to watch.”
Once everyone was ready and I’d found where the girls had stashed the seltzers, we all made our way out to the stage.
Sound check went by quicker than I’d anticipated, and it seemed like mere minutes later that Grey was backstage beside me and the club was filling with people.
I didn’t know where Carina or the others had gone—probably back to the dressing room to wait.
“I love this part,” Grey said.
He stood so close that my arm kept brushing his stomach. I could feel the smooth hardness of him even through the layers of clothing.
“Which part?” I asked, my throat suddenly dry.
His body heat radiated from him, inviting me closer. I tried my best to ignore the impulse to “accidentally” close the distance between us.
“Right before the show,” Grey said in my ear. “Watching the crowd, feeling the energy building in anticipation.”
The crowd wasn’t the only source of anticipation at the moment.
His voice in my ear raised goose bumps on my arms. My breath hitched in my throat.
I wanted Grey badly, and I didn’t necessarily care if a whole room of people were waiting for him.
My brain screamed to grab hold of him, to kiss him, to make love to him.
It was all I could do to shove those impulses down and focus on our conversation.
“I never realized what it was like from this side.” I forced myself to see what Grey saw.
The energy rose from the crowd in waves as they chattered excitedly, noise humming in the air. He was right—the feeling was infectious.
Suddenly, the rest of the band returned, and Grey had to leave my side to prepare to go onstage.
With the most annoying twinges of longing, I watch him get ready.
He pulled his guitar strap over his head, exposing a sliver of skin at his midriff before he adjusted the strap until he was satisfied with how it felt.
When the band was ready, they made their way onstage.
Grey waited to go until everyone else was in position.
“Wish me luck,” he said with an earnest grin.
“Break a leg.” I knew better than to wish any artist luck.
Another grin, and he was out onstage, and the music started blaring.
The intro to “You’ve Gotta Know” played, and the crowd went wild.
This was a fan favorite. I knew that already because I’d heard it so many times at parties or Grey’s performances, but hearing the intensity of their reaction from backstage disarmed me.
I blinked. I knew why I liked the song. It had always felt like Grey had written it specifically for me.
I hated to think that anyone else could feel the same way.
But then, it would be all too easy to look at Grey onstage—handsome and charismatic—and think that it was all for you.
I’d certainly thought that so convincingly the first time I’d heard it that it had sent me into a full-blown panic attack. It was almost funny to think about now.
Someone cleared their throat next to me.
I jumped, startled. I’d been so engrossed in my thoughts about Grey and the music that I hadn’t realized Carina had walked up beside me.
I gave her a wary sideways glance. She looked like she’d been chewing on something particularly sour—a face she often made whenever we shared a room.
With sinking dread, I realized that she wanted to talk and that I had no escape.
“He looks happy out there, doesn’t he?” Carina spoke first.
I paused for a moment, trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind her words. Finally, I gave up. “He does. He lights up when he’s performing.”
“He also lights up whenever he’s around you.” Carina stopped any attempt at feigning attention toward what was happening onstage and looked directly at me.