22. Kinsley
22
KINSLEY
Present—1989.
B eing Nash Beck’s girlfriend—well, fake girlfriend—means I have to attend public events with him. Which includes the one-night-only show Dark Angel is playing tonight at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum. It was only a week ago that Nash expressed his concern about the show and not being able to sell out every seat in the venue. Which, to me, is an understandable concern to have. Any normal person would be concerned about that.
However, I don’t know what he was worried about because there isn’t a single empty seat in this stadium. Ninety thousand, to be exact. The number doesn’t include the floor of the stadium that is packed front to back, and side to side with bodies. I can barely see the ground because of the number of people in the mosh pit. It’s hard to comprehend the size of the stadium, but from where I’m standing, it looks like the rows of seats could touch the fucking sky.
I exhale slowly from my spot on the side of the stage, hidden behind a large black curtain. Despite the May air increasing in warmth, a chill races down my spine. “Holy fuck .”
“Holy fuck indeed,” a woman’s voice says from behind me.
I turn on my heels to face the mystery woman. Gray hair hangs loosely around her thin shoulders and her brown eyes pierce into mine, holding me in place. Whoever this woman is, she means business, I can tell that much.
“Who are you?”
She steps beside me to look out at the rowdy crowd. Dark Angel is less than fifteen minutes away from taking the stage, so the fans are starting to grow restless. Beer bottles are being tossed across the mosh pit, and they have started a few chants for the band to come out to perform. I was worried for a second a fight might break out, but the security have done a great job at crowd control.
The woman folds her arms over her chest, the material of her dark blue suit jacket pulling slightly. “I can’t believe they actually did it.” She sounds surprised about the success of the last-minute show. “I mean, I always knew they could sell out a stadium like this given their success and popularity, but they just needed that extra push to get them here.” She turns to me, her red-painted lips curled up at the corners. “And that push was you.”
My brows shoot up in surprise. “Me?”
She nods. “Yes, you. If Nash hadn’t agreed to the contract your agencies conjured up, then we wouldn’t be here tonight.” The woman steps away from the curtain to stand in front of me, her presence looming like a dark rain cloud. “You see, Nash is… how do I explain it? He’s not very confident in his abilities, or himself, for that matter. He refuses to believe someone like him can have success and be loved by others, especially for his music.”
This is news to me. Well, mostly.
I knew Nash was feeling overwhelmed this week and on edge with tonight looming in the distance as he and the band formed a setlist and practiced every day to make sure they were ready for the gig.
I had no idea Nash doesn’t believe in himself and his abilities like everyone is led to believe through the media.I mean, I knew he was worried about selling out the show, but I at least thought he would have some confidence in himself and his talent.
“I had no idea,” I say slowly. “Nash comes across as confident and sometimes even arrogant, so to hear that he doesn’t believe in himself is news to me.”
The woman clicks her tongue and looks down at the dainty gold watch on her thin wrist. “Well, let’s just say that his past is the reason for that. But I’m sure with your help in this publicity stunt, you and the rest of the world will make him see his true potential. We just have to be patient.”
The woman doesn’t say anything else as she spins on her heels and walks down the corridor that leads to the green rooms, leaving me alone in the dimly lit area. I still don’t know who that was, but I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.
I left the green room earlier to give Nash some space and have been standing here ever since, watching the crowd of fans grow louder and rowdier with each passing second. He seemed stressed and anxious all afternoon, pacing the floor and running a hand through his curly strands. I figured giving him some time to be with just his bandmates and away from his fake girlfriend might do him some good.
Stop lying to yourself , my subconscious so graciously reminds me.
Okay, fine .
I had to get out of that damn room because I couldn’t stand to look at Nash for a second longer. Not because I was angry with him or anything like that. I had to leave because seeing him dressed in black jeans and a leather jacket with nothing underneath did things to my core that made me feel pathetic. A black bandana was wrapped around his head to keep his messy curls out of his face and his abs were on full display, along with the tattoos littering either side of his torso.
Seeing him dressed like that and knowing he was going to be stepping out on that stage to play to nearly a hundred thousand fans—some who probably traveled across the country to be here tonight—was too much for me to handle. My limbs tingled at the sight and my heart rate was out of control. I had to leave to get some fresh air before I said or did something that wasn’t part of our agreement.
It doesn’t help that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what happened between us in his shower. The details of that night have been consuming every waking moment and it’s driving me insane because I don’t know how to feel about it.
Instead of addressing it, I’m choosing to ignore those feelings because it’s easier.
Well, for now.
And now, here I am, waiting in the wing of the stage for him and the rest of the band to make their way out of the green room.
Get a grip, Kinsley .
I’m only here because Nash asked me to be, so I need to remember this is just business as usual and nothing else.
Blowing out a long breath, I turn to glance down the corridor as footsteps approach. Beams of light from what I can only assume are flashlights illuminate the corridor as Dark Angel and a few security men walk toward the stage. With it being minutes away from show time, the crowd has only grown louder, their voices echoing in my head. I can only imagine how loud they’ll get once the band steps out on that stage.
In the darkness, I find Nash’s mismatched eyes. His face is stoic and smooth as he walks closer, but I see the anxiety filtering across his features. He’s nervous, that much is obvious. Anyone would be nervous to step out in front of a crowd of close to one hundred thousand people, no matter how many years you have been performing. It just so happens that Dark Angel gets to have this honor so early in their career.
Hudson, Luca, and Axel smile at me as they approach the edge of the stage. All three of them are wearing black leather pants and a loose tank top. Hudson and Luca have their guitars strapped around their chest while Axel taps away at a large speaker with his drumsticks, nodding his head along to whatever beat he’s playing. James approaches them and begins to say something, but I’m too distracted by Nash’s woodsy cologne invading my senses.
My eyes snap up to meet his as he stares down at me. His annoyingly straight teeth tug on the metal ring in his lip as his eyes sweep across every inch of my face.
I want to ask what he’s thinking, but the words don’t want to leave my mouth, choosing to lodge themselves in my throat instead. I’m reminded why I had to leave that goddamn green room.
Holy fuck . It’s too hard to describe how devastatingly handsome he looks at this moment.
“Are you ready?” I ask, not knowing what else to say.
Nash’s eyes leave my face to trail down the length of my body. Given the occasion, I detoured from my usual fashion style of loose jeans and cute sweaters because I felt they didn’t fit the vibe of a rock concert. Instead, I dug through my closet and found a pair of black jeans, a cropped white tank top, and a black leather jacket that unintentionally matches the one hanging from Nash’s broad shoulders.
“As ready as I can be,” he responds quietly, his chest rising and falling at a pace that is too quick for a normal heartbeat.
I rest my hand on his forearm in an attempt to comfort him, not because people are watching us. It’s obvious how big of a moment this is for Nash and the band, so I understand his feelings are all over the place.
“It’s okay to be nervous.”
Nash swallows hard and nods, his eyes dropping to my lips as he continues to fight whatever battle is happening inside him at this moment.
I fight the urge to squirm under his intense gaze. Why does it feel like we’re the only two people in the room right now? As we stand here together, so close our chests are almost touching, I forget about the crowd on the other side of the curtain or Nash’s management team standing nearby.
All I can focus on is the man in front of me and the tingling in the tips of my fingers where our skin meets. I shouldn’t feel this way, I know that. But I can’t seem to fight the emotions at this moment.
“I know,” Nash says after a moment, his eyes flicking between me and my hand on his arm. “I just… thank you for coming.”
“Of course.” I offer him a smile in the hopes it’ll ease his nerves, but he continues to stare down at me with an emotion in his eyes I can’t seem to read.
Before I can utter another word, his soft lips crash down on mine, stealing my breath away. Instinctually, my eyes flutter shut as I lean into the kiss. The heat of our mouths pressed together sends shock waves across every inch of my body, lighting my skin on fire and making my head so dizzy I can’t seem to think straight.
In the back of my mind, I know he kissed me for the benefit of the people watching around us. We need to keep up appearances. However, I can’t help but feel this kiss was intentional and not for the cameras. But as a way for Nash to take his mind off what he’s about to do.
I can see a panic attack coming from a mile away, and I have no doubt one would’ve ripped right through Nash if he hadn’t kissed me.
Kissing each other when we’re on the brink of an attack seems to be the new norm for us.
Nash pulls away, leaving me breathless. A smirk spreads across his lips as he lifts his right hand to my face. I can’t tear my eyes away from him as he runs his fingers down the side of my cheek, the cold metal of the rings cooling my inflamed skin.
“Enjoy the show, little devil.”
And with that, he turns on his heels and walks to stand with the rest of the band at the edge of the stage. The lights in the stadium dim and screams erupt from the mouths of one hundred thousand people.
My fingers fly into my ears to protect them from the onslaught of screaming voices as Dark Angel steps out onto the stage and rock music sounds across the stadium.
I step toward the curtain to get a better view of the band. Axel is slamming his drumsticks so hard against the kit with their logo etched across the front of it that I’m afraid the wood will splinter under the weight of the force he’s using. Hudson and Luca are headbanging as they pace the stage, strumming their guitars.
And Nash… woah . He comes across as a cocky and confident man when you first meet him, and that attitude is only intensified when out on that stage. Not to mention his deep voice and the way it vibrates through my entire body as he belts out the lyrics to the song.
As the fans scream louder for him, his grin widens. Same with the rest of the band. The way they gaze at each other across the stage, with joy emanating in their eyes, it’s clear how much they love performing, especially with each other. They were born to do this.
Seeing Nash in this environment is something I never thought I would witness, but it makes me appreciate his craft more and the life he has built for himself.
How can this be the same man who doesn’t believe in his talent? He truly is the master at masking, isn’t he?
As he walks up and down the stage, I don’t miss the girl close to the front of the baracade sitting on someone’s shoulders flashing him her bare breasts. My eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. Holy shit—she’s as giddy as a kid on Christmas morning.
Does that happen often at rock concerts? I’ve never had the chance to attend one before, so I wouldn’t know what happens during them.
I find my head bopping to the beat of each song. I’m aware of the smile turning up my lips as I watch Nash own the stage, but I don’t make a move to wipe it off.
Nash was born to be a rockstar. He has the voice, the looks, the stage presence, and above all, he has passion. That passion is what fans want to see. They want to know their favorite singer loves to perform and would do anything for their fans. If you don’t have passion, the fans will notice.
Dark Angel has a lot of fucking passion. It’s so clear from where I’m standing.
Halfway through the show, fat droplets of rain land on the stage, followed closely by a downpour that soaks everyone in the stadium. Thankfully, I’m hidden on the side of the stage with some form of shelter, but I can’t say the same for the fans or the band. But no one seems to mind as the rain soaks through the band's clothes and dampens their hair. The rain only makes the crowd more hyped as they dance and sing along to the songs, not caring one bit they’re wet.
I can’t help but smile at the sight. Who knew a rain show could be this fun?
Nash runs his hand through his soaked curls and smiles out at the crowd during a guitar solo by Hudson. When the solo ends, Nash points at the crowd, which only makes them scream louder.
“Now I want to hear every single one of you fucking singing along, okay?”
At his command, the music slows to a rock ballad. It doesn’t take long for the fans to sing along to the lyrics. It’s almost deafening how loud they are. I can hardly hear Nash over their voices, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. He simply smiles through the song and pours his heart out into each word.
I wish I could’ve invited Travis to attend. We used to spend a lot of our free time during filming listening to rock music on his cassette tape, dreaming of a day when we would be old enough to attend one. Gazing out over this crowd… I just know Travis would’ve loved this.
If I could go back in time and tell twelve-year-old me where our life would be at now, she would be shocked speechless.
Images of Travis’ sweet smile flash in my mind, reminding me of the excitement etched across his face the night of our first adult party. His eyes were so full of life, and mine reflected the same.
Be a good girl, Kinnie. I won’t hurt you.
My heart thumps harshly in my chest at the memories, and suddenly, I’m struggling to breathe as my chest tightens and my head spins.
But before the demons can sink their claws into me, Nash’s voice breaks through the darkness and wraps around me like a warm blanket, shielding me.
With my heart in my throat, I draw my attention to Nash as he works the stage while belting out the lyrics to one of Dark Angel’s most popular songs, ‘A Good Time’.
And just like that, the demons are cast to the back of my mind, allowing me to focus on the performance without feeling like I’m going to slip into the darkness again.
A shiver races down my spine. The longer I stand here and watch this man perform, the harder it is to remind myself that this is a publicity stunt. Nothing more.
“Holy fuck, that was insane,” Nash exclaims the moment he steps off the stage. He runs a hand through his damp hair before his mismatched eyes meet mine. “Enjoy the show, little devil?”
Luca, Axel, and Hudson rush off the stage, talking among themselves. I wait for them to rack their instruments and head to the green room before I answer Nash.
“You were amazing up there.” There is no other way for me to describe the raw sex appeal Nash gives off when he’s on stage performing his heart out. His voice alone gave me butterflies and I don’t even want to mention what else he has done to me the past two hours he’s been performing. “I’m sure you’ve heard this many times in your career, but you were born to be on that stage performing to thousands of people.”
Nash runs his tongue over his lip ring. “The compliment sounds better coming from your lips.”
I roll my eyes playfully. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. Anyway, I better head out.”
Before I can even turn my body to leave, Nash has his hand wrapped around the back of my neck, pulling me close until our lips crash together. I’m helpless to fight against him because the truth is, kissing this man lights my body on fire in a way no man has been able to do before. The way our lips move together in sync with precision is enough to blow my mind. All I can do is wrap my arms around his neck and hold on for dear life.
As the kiss intensifies, Nash’s hands slip to the back of my thighs to hoist me off the ground. My legs instinctually wrap around his waist, clinging to him. A groan rumbles deep in his chest, eliciting one of my own because goddamn that was unlike anything I’ve ever heard.Animalist, even.
I don’t know how long we’ve been standing in the darkness of the wing making out like we’re goddamn teenagers, but I don’t care. All I’m focused on is the way Nash’s tongue explores my mouth, expertly moving against mine in a steady rhythm, or the firm grip he has on my ass to hold me against his hard body.
My fingers are lost in the inky mass of curls framing his face, using them as support to stay upright. The cold metal of Nash’s lip ring moving in tandem against my lips is driving me wild. I have never kissed a man with a lip ring, let alone more tattoos than I could count, and it’s now my new favorite addition to a man. The bite of the metal adds to the fire licking at my core, sending my mind into overdrive thinking about how it would feel against other parts of my body.
I’m fucking soaked already—not just from his wet clothes—and all we’re doing is kissing .
What the hell is Nash Beck doing to me?
Nash pulls away long enough to look into my eyes. The intensity of them sends a shiver down my spine. “What are you doing to me, little devil?”
I stare back at him, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. How could I possibly begin to answer that question? I don’t know what I’m doing to him when I’m just as confused as he is by this situation.
“Nash, I?—”
“What the hell is going on here?”
My eyes widen at the sound of Hudson’s accusatory voice behind us. Panic quickly spreads across my body and I fight to get out of Nash’s grip. He slowly lowers me to my feet, but I’m unable to look Hudson in the eye. My fiery cheeks would be enough of an indication to him of my level of embarrassment right now.
Nash clears his throat and presses a hand firmly against my back so I have no choice but to lay my cheek against his chest. “Nothing, man. What’s up?”
“Well, we’re waiting for you before we start our debrief and get the alcohol flowing.”
I could kiss this man for not probing Nash further on what he just stumbled upon us doing.
“I’ll be there in a minute.” Nash’s voice is thick with lust and it only fuels the heat in my cheeks.
After a long pause, Hudson makes his departure, leaving us alone.
Silence quickly settles upon us. I can’t believe that just happened—more so the kiss than Hudson stumbling upon us.
I take a step back from Nash, needing to put some distance between us, or else I fear my entire body will go up in flames and I won’t be able to hold onto my rapidly slipping self-control.
Nash runs a hand through his hair, unable to meet my eye. “Uh, sorry about him. He’s a nosey bastard.”
“It’s fine.” I clear my throat and rock on the heels of my feet. “I, uh, should get going.”
Nash nods and shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Yeah, sure. Thanks again for coming, little devil.”
“Anytime,” is all I manage to say before I spin on my heels and rush out of the venue.
Once outside, I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath. The cool breeze against my inflamed skin is much needed, but it does nothing to ease the fire burning in my core. All I can do is shake my head, hoping it’ll knock some goddamn sense into me.
Nash Beck is wrong for me in every way, so why do I want him so badly that I’m losing my goddamn mind over it?