Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
W e ride the high from performing as we head off stage. I leap at my bandmates, and they catch me as we laugh and hug. “Did you see that?”
“They knew our songs!”
We talk at the same time, and when we calm down, we are all grinning.
“We really did it,” I murmur.
“We did.” Strike drags Fox down and kisses him square on the mouth. “Now let’s celebrate!”
“The box is this way,” a staff member interrupts. “We will escort you.”
I glare at Strike, but he’s oblivious as we are led into the VIP area so we can watch Dead Ringers perform. I can sense cameras on us, people noticing and spreading the word, so I point at the stage and put my finger to my lips. This is their time, not ours.
The area is pretty small, but we have an amazing view of the stage, and I can’t look away from them. Beck Danvers might be new, but she works that stage like an experienced singer, and the others help her, looking as happy as we feel.
When it changes to an upbeat song, Strike grabs Dash and begins to dance him around. I look at Fox, and he looks at me before he grabs me and copies them.
I can’t help but laugh as he spins me around as Dash and Strike do the same. The crowd is busy singing along with Beck Danvers, so even though we are surrounded by people, it feels private. His smile is aimed at me as if he has forgotten about everything else for the moment.
It leaves me breathless.
Lost in a sea of fans, I lean back into him, our movements becoming slow until we dance leisurely to the beat.
My head falls back to his shoulder as he wraps his arm around my waist and just holds me. For a stolen minute, everything is normal. We are back to the way we were meant to be. Everything is good, and I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time.
I feel . . . complete in his arms. I feel like I’m supposed to be here.
All too quickly, it ends as the set finishes, and he lets go. I feel so cold and empty after I watch him leave, following our guards, and I debate reaching for him.
What if he pushes me away?
What if it meant nothing to him?
I follow him, my heart in pieces, feeling more confused than ever.
The green room is abuzz, everyone riding the high of the first night. Drinks are flowing and everyone is dancing, having a good time. I sit at the back, lost in my own thoughts as I nurse a beer. I don’t want to get drunk, and I throw anyone who gets too close a fuck off look, even the groupies.
I could take one and lose myself in their body, but I don’t want to. He is all I can think about. I thought he felt the same way about me, but it looks like he’s given up as he flirts and lets the groupies hang all over him.
He was mine, and I was so fucking stupid and dumb, I pushed him away.
Are Dash and Strike right? Have I lost him?
The idea terrifies me, and before long, I call it a night.
They return to the bus a few hours later, and I pretend to be asleep.
As their snores fill the air, I stare up at the top bunk where Dash is.
Fox lies just feet away, and my head turns.
He’s on his back with his arm under his head, his eyes closed.
He’s so close, yet so far away.
Even from here, I can see lipstick marks all over his face and neck. Where else are they? Did he hook up with someone? It kills me, and it’s selfish, but I crawl from my bunk and into his, throwing his blanket over me and pressing my face into his neck.
I’m the only one who should stain his skin.
I’m the only one he should smell of.
He lifts his arm and opens his eyes as he turns to me, and for a moment, my heart soars. We are finding our way back to each other—first on stage and then dancing. He’s coming back to me.
He frowns. “What are you doing?” he asks quietly, his voice gravelly.
“Sleeping here,” I murmur as I move closer.
“Ry . . .” He sighs. “It’s hot and small in here. Go back to your bunk.”
My heart cracks, so I press closer, throwing my arm and leg over him with a tired whine. “No,” I murmur into his skin.
His hand touches mine, and I smile, but he lifts it from his body and moves his legs away as he sits up. I fall into his bed, turning my head to meet his annoyed look. “What are you doing, Ryker?”
“Sleeping—”
“No, what are you doing?” he snaps. “You’re climbing into bed with me again like it’s nothing.”
“We used to sleep together all the time,” I whisper, confused.
His eyes sweep over my face. “That was then. We’re different now.”
I sit up, pain piercing my chest until I struggle to breathe. “Why? Why are we different?”
“We just are. Go back to your bed, Ryker. Don’t do this again. Please.” He adds the last word softly.
“I-I’m sorry, Fox, if I hurt you—” I start, but he sighs and looks away.
“You’re always saying sorry.” He looks at me, and his eyes shine with ghosts. “Do you even know what you’re apologizing for? Do you even care? Or do you say it just to get your way?”
I flinch. “I mean it. We’re friends?—”
“Since when?” He throws his blanket back, his expression becoming hard.
“Friends don’t sleep like this. Friends don’t touch like we do.
Friends don’t kiss like we did. We aren’t friends, Ryker, maybe we never were, and I’m—” He looks away.
“I’m tired, okay? Go to your bed. We have a long few months ahead of us, so we need to rest when we can. ”
“Dane,” I whisper. It’s his real name, the one we shared with each other in drunken slurs. “Don’t do this.”
His jaw pops. “Ellis.” He returns the favor, and just like always, hearing my real name on his lips makes my heart soar, even as his next words cut its wings and bring it back to earth. “Go to bed. It’s late.”
He waits, and I know he isn’t going to budge. Shame heats my cheeks as I climb from his bed and back into mine. I drag the blanket up and over my head as I offer him and everyone else my back, then my eyes fill with tears.
He’s never told me no before. He’s never pulled away like that and set boundaries. The tears spill, even as I close my eyelids, trying to stop them so he and the others don’t hear or see.
I’m in love with Fox.
It’s something I denied for so long, but when I sang with him tonight, I realized it.
I love him, and I’m too late.