CHAPTER nineteen #2
“Oh. Right,” I mumble, shifting awkwardly. He rubs the back of my hand with his thumb again, I’m guessing to calm my obvious embarrassment.
“Well… I’ll, uh, see you in there.”
Elias smirks, leaning back like he has all the time in the world, nodding lazily as I turn on my heel and practically flee the bus.
The night air is sharp against my heated skin, but it does little to clear my spinning thoughts. My lips still tingle from his kiss, my body still thrums from his touch, and no matter how much I try to focus on steadying my breath, my mind refuses to quiet.
Because as undeniably satisfying as that moment had been—hell, as much as I already crave more—I can’t stop the nagging thought creeping into the back of my mind.
What does this mean? For him. For me. For us. For the tour.
I shake my head, trying to push it away, but the feeling lingers, a tantalizing mixture of exhilaration and uncertainty.
And as I step into the venue, my pulse still racing, I know one thing for certain.
This is only the beginning.
After the moment Elias and I shared on the bus, something between us shifted.
It’s subtle, unspoken, but undeniable. The air around us feels charged, like an invisible thread now ties us together, humming with electricity. It’s almost sacred—this new, fragile thing existing between us, just beneath the surface.
Every glance he steals from across the venue sends a thrill through me, a silent acknowledgment of what we shared. It’s a secret that belongs only to us, a delicious tension simmering beneath the noise and movement around us.
During soundcheck, he stands center stage, microphone in hand, and his voice is whiskey-smooth as he sings. The room vibrates with his presence, and when his eyes find mine mid-verse, something flickers there—something knowing.
Then, with a quick, teasing smirk, he winks.
A rush of warmth spreads through me so fast it’s dizzying. I drop my head instinctively, biting my lip to mask my reaction, but I know he sees me.
I inhale deeply, willing myself to focus, but my resolve is weak. My gaze drifts back to him, lured like a moth to a flame.
After their electrifying set, but before Hellwake takes the stage, the guys come to hang out at the merch stand, meeting fans, signing shirts, and soaking in the post-show energy.
I love watching them interact, especially Elias.
As reserved as he normally is, he really turns it on for the fans.
Shaking hands, posing for photos, signing merch.
His smile is a little stiff, but I don’t think someone who doesn’t know him would notice.
There is something genuine in the way he speaks to people, something deeply grateful about how he thanks them.
I can tell that this, the music, the connection, the people who show up just to hear him sing, means everything to him.
Even though he is surely exhausted, he makes an effort to give every fan a moment of his time.
Suddenly, a young man steps forward from the edge of the crowd. He looks nervous. His shoulders are slightly hunched, hands fidgeting at his sides, but there’s determination in the way he moves, like he’s braced himself for this moment. Purposeful. Fragile. Brave.
Elias reaches out and shakes his hand. The grip is tentative at first, then firm. But the man doesn’t let go right away.
Instead, he lifts his other hand and places it over their joined ones, anchoring them together. When he looks up, his eyes are glassy and wide as he meets Elias’s gaze.
“You saved me, man,” he says, voice barely holding steady. “Your music… it saved me.”
Something in Elias shifts instantly. The hard edges soften. His jaw unclenches. He squeezes their hands a little tighter.
“Respectfully,” Elias says gently, shaking his head, “no, I didn’t, man. You saved yourself.”
The young man swallows hard, breath stuttering. “No—really. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t find your music. This scene. This place.” His words come out rushed, tangled with emotion he’s clearly fighting to contain. “Thank you.”
Elias releases their hands, but instead of stepping back, he holds the guy’s shoulders carefully, like he’s afraid a harsh touch might break him.
“I’m so grateful my music helped you,” Elias says, his voice low and steady. “But I didn’t save you. You did that. Don’t take that away from yourself.”
The dam breaks.
The man folds, sobs wracking his body as Elias wraps his arms around him without hesitation. No rush. No awkwardness. Just human to human, holding space for something sacred.
When they finally pull apart, Elias extends his hand again. The man takes it, gripping tight.
“Thank you for trusting me with your story,” Elias says softly.
The man nods, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve before disappearing back into the crowd.
My chest aches as tears sting my eyes. The interaction lingers in the air—so genuine, so raw, so beautiful.
It’s moments like these that remind me why this community is so special. It’s a place for people to belong, to feel seen.
I can’t help but be mesmerized. I’ve been watching him like a fool for who knows how long at this point. I’m not even aware of how obvious I am being until his gaze flickers toward mine, catching me mid-stare.
For a moment, everything else fades into the background—the chatter, the buzz of the venue, the distant hum of guitars being tuned. He doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t tease. He almost looks embarrassed. Or maybe exposed.
When I offer him a smile, it’s then that his eyes soften, his expression turning open and sincere. I feel my stomach dip at the sight.
Then my gaze drifts over to Traeger, who is leaning against a wall of the venue, arms crossed, one boot flat against the brick. His eyes are fixed on Elias and his expression is hard and unapproachable while his tongue slides slowly along the inside of his bottom lip.
There’s something in his gaze that makes my stomach tighten. It isn’t just jealousy. It’s heavier than that. Closer to something like resentment—or even hatred.
He mutters something under his breath that I can’t make out, then pushes off the wall with a sharp movement and disappears behind the stage.
I keep staring at the empty space he left behind, unease prickling along my skin, before finally forcing my attention back to Elias and the small crowd orbiting him.
There’s a steady stream of wide-eyed, giggling girls making their way up to him, some of them less than subtle about their intentions. Textbook groupies.
A redhead in tight leather pants runs her manicured nails down his arm as she speaks, tilting her head just so, her eyes sparkling under the dim venue lights. I can tell he dislikes that kind of attention.
And yet, he takes it in stride, his posture still relaxed, his responses polite. He doesn’t flirt back, but he doesn’t brush them off either.
Eventually, the crowd thins, the fans disappearing back into the pit to get ready for Hellwake’s set.
Grady, Jasper, and Cody make their way toward the bar, but Elias stays behind, turning and leaning casually against the merch table.
My stomach flutters at the sight of him. Because, despite everything, all I can think about is earlier on the bus.
That kiss. The best goddamn kiss of my life.
And the fact that it was with him? That he had initiated it? That he had wanted it just as much as I had? It shook me.
Up until now, I have been convincing myself that he merely tolerates me, that we are just two people forced to coexist on this tour.
But then he went and kissed me like he’d been waiting for an excuse to do it.
And now? Now, I have no idea how to act around him.
Did it mean anything? Or is he just lonely? Am I just reading too much into it?
A thousand thoughts swirl in my head, making me feel dizzy, like I am on the verge of unlocking something big, something important, but I’m not sure if I want to know the answer.
When our eyes meet again, I can tell he is just as uncertain. There is something hesitant in the way he looks at me, like he isn’t sure how to proceed. Which makes two of us.
I need to break the tension before I spiral further. So I blurt out the first thing that pops into my head.
“Aren’t you Mr. Popular?” I tease, nudging him lightly.
He lets out a huff of laughter, dipping his head, and just like that, the awkwardness cracks slightly.
But then, his eyes lift to mine, a spark of something in them.
“Jealous?”
My heart stutters. Elias. Flirting. With me. Every time, it still surprises me.
“Not even a little,” I say quickly. “I would never want to be famous. I’m more of a background kind of person.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it,” his voice turns thoughtful.
I tilt my head, curious.
“Don’t tell me you don’t like pretty girls falling all over you. Just a little?”
His expression shifts, the playfulness vanishing in an instant. His jaw tightens, and when he speaks, his voice is flat. Final.
“No, I don’t. That’s not why I do this, Ramona.”
Shit. I have struck a nerve.
“I—I didn’t say it was,” I backpedal quickly, “I was just kidding.”
His eyes harden, and I instantly regret my words. And just like that, he pushes off the table and stalks off.
I let out a sharp breath, pressing my hands over my face.
Ugh. Why can’t I just shut the hell up?
I have clearly offended him, and I hate the idea of hurting him, especially after the progress we’ve made.
I spend the rest of the night kicking myself for my own stupidity.
When the show ended, Elias disappears, retreating to his bunk without a shower, something that is not like him.
I want to fix it, but I don’t even know how. I’m not sure where we stand—what tonight had even meant.
And now? I have already ruined it.
As I curl up in my own room, staring up at the ceiling, a hollow pit settles in my stomach.