19. The Show
NINETEEN
THE SHOW
D ylan
The van takes us straight to the venue for tonight’s show. I feel the familiar surge of adrenaline thrumming in my veins. Stepping out of the van, we’re greeted by stagehands rushing around, security keeping the eager fans at bay, and that electric buzz in the air that always signals a big night. This life—loud, fast, and unpredictable—it’s home.
Backstage, the energy is infectious. Techs make last-minute adjustments, barking out instructions to each other. The air smells like sweat, cologne, and pure anticipation. I grin as I stand there, breathing it all in. Amidst all the chaos, I watch Lily dart between crew members, abandoning us to make sure the set lists are in place and check on our instruments that arrived ahead of us, just handling things like a pro. She’s quickly blending into our life on the road and it’s becoming more difficult to remember what life was like without her.
The guys walk past me, heading to the dressing room. I trail behind them slowly, watching Lily until the last possible second before joining the rest of the band. The dressing room is the same as almost every other dressing room at every other venue. Slightly cramped and dim, with a smell of smoke and sweat seeping out of the pores of the walls.
I sigh and pull out my drumsticks and tap out the intro to our first song, imagining the small coffee table centered in the room is my drum set. Enzo and Marcus do their own thing, getting into the head space we need to be on stage. Jax is the only one that isn’t sitting down. He paces the room, seeming extra broody and angsty after the interview. Part of me wonders if I should talk to him, but honestly, he’s such a downer sometimes. I’ll leave it to Marcus. He’s better at that shit than I am.
Jax finally pulls it together, gathering us in the center with for our ritual. He seems more distracted than usual, and it doesn’t pack its normal punch when we scream out Electric Wounds. Once we finish, we head to the stage as a unit. The oppressive silence lifts as we near the stage, the roar of the crowd growing louder with every step, and the moment we step into the lights, it hits us like a wave. A tangible energy feeds into us as we launch into our first song, and I grin. This is fucking it. The stage lights burst to life, and suddenly, we’re unstoppable.
The set is pure emotion. Every chord, every beat pushing us higher, like all the tension, anger, and angst we’ve felt recently, is pouring into the music. The crowd’s screams fuel the music even higher, adding to the raw, unfettered feeling that comes from being on stage.
I hammer my drumsticks across my set, stealing glances at Lily, standing just off to the side. She watches us with wide eyes, flitting between each of us and filled with awe. Our eyes connect and she smiles at me, a soft expression that causes an unfamiliar flutter in my chest. I wink at her, then turn my attention back to my drum set. I don’t want to fuck up the beat because I’m too busy staring at Lily.
Midway through the set, Jax looks around at all of us, offering a brief shake of his head, letting us know he wants a pause in the set. I take advantage of the break to tug my shirt over my head, mopping up the sweat against the back of my neck. Jax steps closer to the crowd. “Pittsburgh,” Jax begins, his voice sounds thick. He pauses to let the crowd cheer, but I see his shoulders move with a deep inhale, like he is bracing himself. “Earlier today, I walked off during an interview. I couldn’t talk about my recovery, and for some of us, that’s how it is. My addiction—it’s something I’m still fighting. But being here, playing for you, that’s part of what’s helping me heal. So, thank you for being here. For supporting us. And if you have ever been through something similar, this song is for you.”
A roar of support explodes from the crowd, and I lean into it, banging out a hard beat to launch us into our next song. The lyrics to the song are about Jax’s addiction and the pain that he holds inside. Playing it always makes my skin crawl, as I think about what must go on in his head to write something like this. Maybe he deserves to be a broody fuck.
His voice cracks on the last note, lending a rawness to the song that isn’t normally there. I decide to smash out a longer drumbeat, dragging the song out further as an excuse to buy Jax another minute before we launch into our next song. He drops the mic to his side, grabbing a sip of water.
Together, we launch into the next song and then the next and the next. The rest of the set flies by in a blur of high-energy anthems, and before I know it, we’re playing our final song. The crowd’s cheers are deafening when Jax calls out, “Thank you, Pittsburgh.”
I walk off to the wings to find Lily waiting for us, her smile bright enough to light up the room. I lift her up, and twirl her around and she giggles, swatting at my arm. “Dylan,” she groans in fake exasperation. I smirk, stealing a peck before placing her back on her feet.
“That was amazing,” she exclaims.
“Thanks, Lily,” Marcus says, wiping sweat from his brow. “It felt incredible.”
Enzo grins, still buzzing with energy. “How about we keep this going? I heard there’s a chill after-party nearby.”
I glance at Jax. “You up for it?”
He hesitates, but then nods, his smile small but genuine. “Yeah, I think I am.”
Lily steps towards him, pausing for a second, then wrapping her arms around Jax’s waist. He appears stunned but reciprocates by gently gripping his arms around her shoulders. I think Lily is trying to comfort Jax after his on-stage confession. The hug looks awkward as hell, but I can tell that they are both trying to move past the weirdness between them.
“Alright, lovebirds!” Enzo’s voice breaks through, teasing. “We’ve got a party to get to.”
Lily laughs awkwardly, stepping away from Jax and avoiding his gaze. I walk over to her, slinging my arm around both of their shoulders. “Someone needs to keep you two apart,” I joke, earning a more genuine laugh this time.
I steer us through the backstage and out the exit to our van, which is waiting for us. Enzo speaks with the driver in a low hushed tone, working out where the after party is, while the rest of us chill in the back. Lily rests her head against my shoulder, and I play with the ends of her hair.
She’s half asleep by the time we arrive, and I almost ask the driver to take her and I back to the bus. Only a quirked brow from Marcus keeps me from being selfish and trying to wrangle some time with Lily by myself. Sighing, I help her out of the van towards a tall, mirrored black building.
“What is this place?” She asks, wide-eyed.
“It’s a few different things, but we’re here for the lounge,” Enzo replies, taking my spot and steering Lily inside by the shoulders.
We go up several floors in an elevator and stop at the entrance of lux bar. Everything inside is black leather and crystal. It has dim lighting, with soft music playing in the background. The few people scattered around are dressed in dark suits and skimpy cocktail dresses. A total one-eighty from our usual post show hang out spots.
“Uh, this is different,” Lily whispers, glancing around.
“Why are you whispering?” I ask.
“I’m not sure…” Lily flushes. “It’s just so quiet in here, it felt weird to talk at a louder volume.”
I laugh, along with the rest of the guys. “It’s not a library,” Enzo teases.
Lily grimaces, then chuckles, speaking in a normal tone. “I guess you’re right. It’s just so… fancy.” She looks down at her jeans and Electric Wounds t-shirt, then back up at us. “I feel a little underdressed.”
Just then, a girl in a sleek black cocktail dress approaches us. “Can I help you?”
“Nah,” I say, snagging Lily by the hand and rushing her back to the elevators.
“What the hell?” Jax exclaims as I push past him, jamming the buttons on the elevator. First for the lobby, then the close door button.
“Last one to the lobby has to pay for pizza.”
Marcus runs at the elevator, with his hand out like he is going to try to stop the doors from closing, and Lily gasps beside me, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. But he’s too slow, and the door closes while he’s still a foot or so away.
“You’re ridiculous,” she says with a laugh.
“Ahh, ridiculously good looking? Ridiculously into pizza? Ridiculously into you?” I pause, leaning over her, brushing my lips across hers. She takes a step back and I step in closer, sandwiching her between the back of the elevator and my body.
She inhales sharply as I fuse my lips to hers, demanding entrance and sliding my tongue across hers. Her hands grip the back of my neck, nails scraping against the short hairs across my nape. I groan into the kiss, pressing harder against her until I can feel her pebbled nipples through the fabric of her shirt.
“Dylan,” she groans.
I smirk against her lips, then move to kiss down the side of her neck. My hands slip up her sides, resting just under the swell of her breasts. I move to pluck one of her nipples through the fabric. The ding of the elevator sounds, breaking through the drugging haze of kissing Lily Thompson. I step backwards, adjusting my throbbing dick as I step away.
Lily watches me, her lust filled eyes tracing the outline of my cock as if she is fighting the urge to feel it for herself. I stifle a groan and hold out a hand instead of pushing her back into the elevator. “So, Pizza?”
She laughs but agrees. “Pizza.”