11. Eleven
Eleven
Nate
“Dude, that’s the third time you’ve missed that transition.”
Vince’s voice snaps me back to the present. We’re in the studio, working on the bridge of our new single, and I’ve been somewhere else entirely.
“Sorry.” I adjust my grip on the drumsticks, rolling my shoulders. “Let’s take it from the top.”
“Maybe we should take five,” Cass suggests, setting his guitar down. “You’ve been off all morning.”
They’re right. I have been off. My mind keeps drifting back to four days ago—to the way her skin felt under my fingertips, to how her breath hitched when I got too close. The kitchen had been painfully quiet when she came down for coffee the next morning, but I could still taste her on my lips, still feel the phantom pressure of her body against mine.
No mention of our almost-moment the night before, no acknowledgment of the electricity that had crackled between us in the darkness. Just polite small talk about her early flight and promises to stay in touch via texting.
I’d watched her wheel her suitcase to the car they sent for her, wanting to say something—anything—to break through the awkward tension. But what could I say? That I couldn’t stop thinking about her? That this is all beginning to feel a little too genuine?
“Stone,” Vince waves a hand in front of my face. “Where are you, man?”
“Just tired,” I lie, standing up from behind my kit. “Coffee?”
The guys follow me to the break room, and I can feel their questioning looks. We’ve been playing together too long for them not to notice when something’s off.
My phone buzzes as I’m pouring coffee, and I can’t help the smile that forms when I see Lacey’s name.
Lacey: ‘ Just finished another mind-numbing meeting. Save me.’
Me: ‘ Come back to Jax. We’ll hide out in my music room.’
Lacey: ‘ Tempting. But Rachel would hunt us down.’
Me: ‘ I’ll protect you.’
Lacey: ‘ My hero! But I have the premier this week! Fingers crossed!’
Me: ‘ It will be great. Don’t worry. Sorry I can’t be there for you.’
Lacey: ‘ NP. You’re as busy as I am, drummer boy.’
At least this part hasn’t changed. Our text conversations still flow easily, and we still have that playful banter that makes me smile at her humor. We’re good at keeping it light, keeping it within the boundaries of our arrangement.
“That Lacey?” Cass asks, peering over my shoulder.
I lock my screen quickly. “Yeah. Just checking in.”
“Right.” He gives me a knowing look. “Just checking in. That’s why you’re grinning like an idiot.”
“Shut up.” I need to get my head in the game because we have a one-night performance in Denver coming up.
“You want to try that bridge again?” Cass asks with a hand squeeze on my shoulder.
“Yeah.” I drain my coffee, pushing away thoughts of Lacey and how I would have liked to have been there for her movie premier. “Let’s nail it this time.”
But as I settle back behind my drums, I can’t help wondering: When did pretending to be attracted to Lacey become easier than pretending not to be?
We manage to get through the rest of our practice without any more missed transitions, but my mind isn’t fully there. Six months seemed like a long time when we signed those contracts. Now, barely two weeks in, I’m already struggling to remember where the lines are drawn.
After a frantic flight from Denver to California, I sit in the back seat, watching as the L.A. streets blur past. Finally, the black SUV stops outside the historic theater in Hollywood. The screams hit me the moment I step out of the car. Hundreds of fans line the barriers outside, their phones raised high, trying to capture every arrival. But I’m not here as a rockstar tonight—I’m here for Lacey.
Rachel materializes at my elbow, steering me toward the red carpet. “Remember, this is Lacey’s night. Let her shine.”
As if I could ever overshadow her. The thought makes me snort, earning a sharp look from Rachel.
“Where is she?” I scan the crowd, adjusting my tie. The designer suit feels stiff compared to my usual stage wear, but being here for Lacey is worth every uncomfortable moment.
“Coming up behind you in about two minutes. Remember, this is supposed to be a surprise.”
Lacey doesn’t know I’m here. Rachel and Emily orchestrated this whole thing, clearing my schedule so I could fly in from Denver, where we had just finished our performance. The Wild Band hasn’t played a show without me since we started, but the guys insisted I make this premiere the minute we finished the encore.
The fans’ screaming intensifies, and I turn just as another SUV pulls up. My breath catches as Lacey emerges, wearing a flowing midnight blue gown that makes her eyes pop even from this distance. Her hair cascades over one shoulder in elegant waves, and she’s literally glowing under the premiere lights.
She hasn’t seen me yet, busy greeting fans and signing autographs. Her co-star, Jake Morrison, helps her navigate the crowd. He’s exactly what you’d expect from Hollywood’s latest action hero—tall, ruggedly handsome, with that perfect jawline they all seem to have. His wife, Rebecca, a well-known TV actress herself, holds his other hand.
I wait until Lacey turns toward the red carpet before moving into her line of sight. The moment she spots me, her professional smile transforms into something real and radiant. Her steps quicken, and she gives a brilliant smile as I step forward to wrap my arms around her.
“You’re here!” She pulls back, eyes shining.
“I didn’t want to miss this.” I brush a kiss against her temple, mindful of the cameras. “You look beautiful.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“And miss that reaction? Never.” Then, in a lower voice, for her ears only, “Rachel thought this would play better if you were authentically surprised.”
Jake and Rebecca catch up to us, and Jake extends his hand. “So this is the famous Nate Stone. Lacey’s told us about you.”
“All good things, I hope.” We shake hands, and I notice several cameras capturing the moment.
“The best,” Rebecca chimes in, linking arms with her husband. “Though she failed to mention how handsome you are in person.”
Lacey laughs, tucking herself against my side. “Back off, Rebecca. This one’s taken.”
The four of us pose for photos, and I’m struck by how natural this feels. Two weeks ago, I would have been uncomfortable with all this Hollywood glamour, but with Lacey beside me, it’s not that bad.
Inside the theater, we’re led to prime seats. The energy is electric as the lights dim and the movie begins. I’ve heard bits about ‘The Oasis’ from Lacey—it’s an action-adventure about a family discovering a hidden world in their grandmother’s garden—but nothing prepared me for seeing her on the big screen.
Soon, I’m pulled into the story. Watching Lacey on-screen is mesmerizing. She’s magnetic, completely captivating the audience, and I’m no exception. Every emotion she portrays feels authentic, and every line is delivered flawlessly. It’s clear she was born for this.
Even in scenes with Jake, who’s arguably the bigger star, my eyes are drawn to her.
She plays her role with such warmth and charisma that I forget I’m watching from within a crowded theater. When she’s running through the forest in the next scene, I squeeze her hand, remembering everything she told me about the plot.
The audience responds exactly as they should—gasping at the reveals, laughing at the jokes, and sniffling during the emotional moments. By the time the credits roll, the applause is thunderous.
“Lacey, that was incredible,” I state as the lights come up.
She bites her lip, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “Really? You’re not just saying that?”
“Are you kidding? You’re going to have directors begging you for roles.”
Before she can respond, people start flooding over to congratulate her and Jake. All of them raving about the film. I step back, letting her have her moment, content to watch her shine.
Rachel appears. “The reviews are already coming in. They’re calling it the sleeper hit of the year.”
“Of course they are.” I can’t keep the pride from my voice. “It was a great movie. Lacey’s very talented.”
Lacey catches my eye over the crowd and smiles, making my chest tighten. Then, someone mentions the after-party, and everyone starts moving toward the exit. Jake’s wife sidles up to me with a knowing smile.
“Ready for round two? The after-parties are where the real fun happens.”
The after-party venue is pure Hollywood excess—a ballroom with sweeping views of the city, strings of lights creating a magical atmosphere overhead. A live band plays soft jazz, and waiters weave through the crowd with endless trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres.
We’re escorted to our table, and Lacey practically glides across the floor; she’s been floating on air since the movie premiered, and her joy is contagious.
After we’re seated, I lean in. “You know, watching you up there on that screen... it was something else.”
She ducks her head, suddenly shy. “Thank you, Nate.”
“I loved the part where you ran through the forest.” I smile at her as I place my arm across the back of her chair; looking like a devoted fiancé comes naturally to me.
Her laughter lights up the room. “The one where my character panics?”
“Yes.” I pull her closer. “The emotion you displayed was fantastic. I felt your terror.”
“Thanks. Jake was very helpful. He gave me all kinds of pointers for that scene.”
“You and Jake made a handsome couple. The way he looked at you—there was chemistry,” I say, trying to sound casual.
“You mean the way his character looked at my character?” She asks softly. Then, she nods at Jake and his wife across the room. “Have you seen how Jake looks at Rebecca? That man is completely devoted to his wife.”
“You’re right. I guess I have to get used to seeing you with other men on screen,” I concede, following her gaze. Leaning back in my chair, I remind her with a sigh, “I have to head back tomorrow.”
Her fingers tighten slightly on my arm. “I know. But thank you for coming.”
Before I can respond, Rachel appears with two glasses of champagne, handing me one. “Lacey, you need to make the rounds.”
Lacey stands and immediately becomes the center of attention. She’s surrounded by Jake and her fellow actors. Critics, industry executives, and producers all vie for her attention. Everyone is eager to congratulate her on the film’s success. I hang back slightly, watching her as she glows under the praise and admiration. She’s brilliant, and she belongs here.
Still, even as she works the room, she keeps coming back to me, slipping her hand into mine, leaning in to whisper in my ear, stealing quick glances that send heat straight to my gut. I can feel it in the way her fingers tighten around mine, in the way her body instinctively moves toward me. This isn’t just for show. Some of it is real.
“You doing okay?” she asks, her hand brushing against mine as we take a moment away from the main crowd.
I grimace. “I think I prefer screaming fans and stadium lights over all this Hollywood talk. But if it means supporting you, I can handle it.”
Her expression softens, her fingers tracing the lapel of my jacket. “I like having you here, Nate.”
Before I can respond, a photographer snaps a picture, and I know, without a doubt, it’ll be making the rounds on the internet by morning.
After that, we head back into the crowd. Lacey’s laughing, radiant, completely in her element. And watching her, I realize something important.
“Hey,” I say softly, my hand finding the small of her back. “I’m actually enjoying being here tonight. I’m glad I came.”
Her smile softens. “Really?”
“Yes.” I brush a kiss against her temple, for everyone to see. “It turns out I don’t mind the spotlight as much as I thought I did when it is mostly for you.”
She stretches up to hug me, probably for the cameras, but I don’t care. When we break apart, her eyes are shining.
Rachel appears with her phone out.
“The photos are already trending,” she starts, but I hold up a hand.
“Tomorrow, Rachel. Tonight I’m beat.”
She seems to want to argue, but something in my expression—or maybe the way Lacey’s pressed against my side—makes her relent.
“Fine. But first thing tomorrow—“
“We’ll look at everything,” Lacey promises. “Goodnight, Rachel.”