Chapter 61
Chapter sixty-one
Hendrix · Then
Centuries – Fall Out Boy
Twenty Years Old
“Merci beaucoup,” I say, the B I got in French finally coming in handy.
The guy sitting in the box office hands over my ticket. He mumbles something in response and waves me on my way, already calling for the next person in line.
I tuck the ticket between my teeth as I snatch up my backpack and hook it over my shoulders. The thing weighs a fucking ton. It’s filled with clothes, an extra pair of shoes, my passport and travel documents.
If only I’d had the foresight to book a hotel before getting onto the Eurostar.
Music blares through the lobby.
I draw in a slow breath and force my feet to move.
A security guard scans my ticket, peels off one side, and ushers me into the darkened auditorium.
Strobe lights bounce off the walls, ghosting over the waiting crowd. I dip through the bodies at the back, and find a spot against the wall.
I dig my phone out of my pocket, and pull up my texts, only to lock it and shove it away.
It’s been a few weeks since I’ve spoken to Theo, Axel, Carter, and Saint. They’ve texted a couple times, but I haven’t found the words to respond. Not sure what I can say, really.
Cole checks in daily, but our texts are becoming less frequent, our calls barely lasting more than a couple minutes at a time.
It fucking hurts, but I know it’s for the best. He’s happy on this tour. Thriving with his friends while they travel Europe and make a name for themselves.
I tuck myself against the far wall, drop my bag between my legs, and drag my hoodie over my head, tucking my hair beneath it.
Tapping my foot, I lace my fingers together in my pocket.
The crowd presses closer to the barrier when a low hiss crackles through the air.
I close my eyes.
An all-too-familiar riff sounds, shredding my chest as Saint strums his strings.
My heart thunders, beating in time with Carter’s snare drum.
Axel plucks his bass in perfect harmony, rounding the sound, and flooding the room.
Then, I hear him.
My eyes shoot open, my stomach drops, and my heart cracks into two.
The room hushes as a spotlight lands on Cole.
His fingers stroke up and down the microphone stand, my black beaded bracelet curled around the Hummingbird on his wrist.
I blink as a tear drops down my cheek.
He looks incredible up on that stage. His eyes are more alive than I’ve ever seen them, his all-black outfit, form-fitting outfit, and the tattoos living on his skin glisten under the bright lights.
He looks like a fucking star.
His voice wraps around me, tugging at my heart as he sings our song. There isn’t an ounce of fear in him. The crowd responds to every word out of his mouth, every note he hits, every sound he makes.
A glorious grin steals his face.
I shatter.
He is extraordinary.
He always has been.
And fuck if I’m not going to make sure he stays exactly this way for the rest of his life, even if it means I don't get to stand by his stand when he flies.