Chapter 20
Erica
The days continue to pass in the blur of wonderful chaos that has been my life since I made the decision to run away with the lead singer of my favorite band.
Even just putting that sentence together still feels like I’ve been granted a pass to live someone else’s life for a while, yet when I wake every morning and pass the mirror, it’s still me.
Ari and I spent the rest day and travel day after the show together, as we have been for all these weeks, but today it was different.
The air charged. Heated kisses. Tension building between us.
It’s delicious and I’m just savoring every single second, still wary of the ever-impending drop of the other shoe.
Now, as I sit on my comfy chair backstage while they get ready for their next show, I’m pulled from the piece I’m working on when he sneaks up behind me.
I know he’s there before his lips nibble the shell of my ear and whines that he has to go sing.
Tilting my head back, I kiss him and wish him a great show; not that there’s ever been any doubt about that.
As the show carries on, I realize I haven’t actually watched one in a while. Sure, I sing along in my own little universe with my tablet and my pen in hand, but I feel drawn to be closer to him tonight. To see him. To watch him perform.
Setting my things down, I make my way to the stage-side spot I’ve been advised is where I should be if I want to watch the show without going into the audience.
Before, I think the majority of the reason I hadn’t stood here to watch him yet was because even though they had welcomed me into their world—well, worlds I suppose—it didn’t really feel like it was my place to hold such a spot of honor.
With everything I’ve been feeling for Ari growing to terrifying levels, and the way we’ve been spending the last few days, something inside me feels like maybe this could be my spot, like maybe it already was and I hadn’t let myself accept it before.
From the designated vantage point, the view is even more breathtaking than I expected.
With all their shows on this tour being in ocean-side venues, I can see the moon has risen over the water in the distance.
The lights are beaming in every direction, and I can see everyone in the crowd hanging on every note that Ari sings and the guys play.
It brings tears to my eyes at the magic of it all. Mortal magic. Mostly.
Ari carries the last note as flawlessly, as he always does, and when the crowd erupts into cheers, whoops, and hollers, he turns and our eyes lock. I offer him a shy little wave and he starts sprinting. Straight toward me.
He would have knocked me over if he hadn’t captured me with both arms, smashing his lips to mine, the heat from his body swelling around me as a sweat droplet from his forehead drips onto mine.
When he pulls back, a bit bashful, I’ve forgotten how to speak the English language just from the force of that kiss.
“You’re here,” he gasps through his heavy breaths.
Not understanding, I giggle, drunk on him. “I’ve been at every show. Of course I’m here.”
He looks down at the X marking the designated spot, then back up at me. “No. You are here.” He points to the X for emphasis. “Where you’re supposed to be.”