Page 48 of Revel
He motions again and then flicks his wrist at the band. Cruz smirks, seeming to know what’s going on. My eyes hit a stage light and it momentarily blinds me, but I keep walking toward him. Neon green, blue, and yellow sparkle against Revel’s skin, his gaze fixes on mine and the distinct opening riff of “Walk This Way” begins, the crowd roaring in response. I’m not even joking here. “Walk This Way” by Aerosmith and Run-D.M.C.
What?That’s the song he pulls me on stage for, like I’m going to what, sing it with him? He can’t be serious.
“What are you doing?” I whisper-shout to him, wondering if he’s lost his damn mind. No, I know he has; it’s his intention I’m worried about here.
His eyes cut to mine and my face feels like it’s on fire. I curl my hand around his forearm, using him to balance my unsteady grip on reality. Studying me with careful scrutiny, his warm breath washes over my face. I’m overwhelmed by how alive he looks in this moment. “Eyes onyou, princess.”
I stare. No, they’re onyou. They’re always onyou.
“Revel,” I whisper in his ear, keeping a smile plastered on my face and my hand on his shoulder. I actually have a death grip on his arm, and it’s rather hard to do with how sweaty he is. And it’s super gross to think about, but I really want to weld my body to his just to feel his sweat on me. Maybe I’m the one who’s lost my mind? “I can’t do this. I’m not rock, or rap, or whatever this song is.”
His brows furrow, thick and low above his lashes. Deacon approaches, smiling. “Do you know the lyrics?” Revel asks, bobbing his head to the drum beats behind him.
I take a deep breath, exhaling slowly, the energy between us intensifying. “Yes, everyone does.”
“Then you can do it.” He shrugs one shoulder and hands me a mic one of the road managers rushes on stage with. “Who cares what the fuck they think?” His gaze moves around the stage, scanning the audience in front of him, breaking our connection. “If they laugh, fuck ’em. Get out of your head and find your sound. Not the sound your daddy created, that’s not you. Show me the wild side.”
“I’m not sure I know me,” I admit, fidgeting with the microphone.
“You do.” His hand moves under my chin forcing me to look at him. I hear girls screaming from the front row. “Youdo.”
Our eyes connect—stars in mine, I don’t know what’s in his—but I know one thing, he makes me feel a thousand feet high. He places me on a pedestal, for reasons I don’t truly understand, but I know, deep down, he can knock me down without a care.
Tread lightly, heart. You’re in so deep.
Raising the microphone to his lips, he begins the first verse, and then looks to me to continue.
My heart pounds a million miles an hour, but I do, without hesitation, and it’s everything I can possibly dream of. I’ve been on a stage my entire life, but nothing, and I do mean nothing, compares to being next to him. Here is a rock legend standing beside me, inches from me really, and I’m up close and personal with his ability. With his iconic rough growls and jaw-dropping vibrations, I can’t deny the intensity behind him, the influence he has on me.
Throughout the nearly seven minutes we play the song, we laugh, tease, and flirt all over the stage like we’ve been singing together for years. It’s amazing and leaves the audience in awe of us. We’ve never rehearsed together, yet here we are, seamlessly pulling off a complex rap cover together.
The rest of his band joins in, but when Hardin kisses me on the cheek during part of the song, Revel shoves him back and continues on with the chorus. When it comes up again, the kiss part of the song, Revel takes his time as I’m standing in front of him. Lowering the mic, he runs it up the inside of my thigh and grins like the devil as the crowd roars in response. I was innocent before I met him. Now, I’m possessed because that right there, gave me such a thrill that I finally understand every meaning behind the saying, “he makes my knees weak.”
Sure, he might just be playing a part on stage but to me, it was more than that when he whispers only for me, “You make me fucking weak.” And then he takes my face in his hands, drops the mic on the stage, and then acts as if he’s going to kiss me, only I playfully push his face away.
The crowd roars in response, their energy contagious and consuming, but it’s nothing in comparison to what I feel inside. I watch them closely, their approval evident in their enthusiasm. So lost inside, I never knew the power of my voice, my performance, until I let Revel Slade in. With his encouragement, I don’t care about any of that. It’s not his acceptance I had been hoping for, it’s theirs and in this moment, I have it.
Revel smirks, and pulls me in closer, his eyes on my lips, but he doesn’t kiss me. The intensity in his eyes draws me in, neon green and purple lights reflecting off his face as he whispers, “You’re fire and I crave the burn.”
I nevercraveda sin like him, until I met the real Revel Slade and he showed me what his tasted like.
Backstage I have no expectations. I’m not even sure how to comprehend the last fifteen minutes, let alone my reaction to it, or what Revel’s will be to me. He might just snub me again. Only that’s not what happens. I’ve gone over it in my head, and dreams, thousands of times. . . how our first kiss might happen. Nothing compares to how it actually goes down.
Do you notice us backstage? Tucked away in the shadows? Roadies rushing by us breaking down the stage and pulling equipment. That’s when Revel shoves me flush against the wall and corners me completely, his hand above my head on the wall behind me. He actually shoves me. I love how easily he manhandles me. Someone calls his name in the distance.
He nods and tells them he’ll be right there.
Only. . . he’s not moving. His eyes find mine again.
Our breathing intensifies, my heart attempting to jump its way out of my chest the moment he steps forward and presses his bare chest to mine, the hard planes of his body welding into me. I can’t get close enough. I’m dying inside, and I think, no, I know I need him closer. I want to rip everything off him and smoosh our naked bodies together.
I don’t have the greatest view of him seeing how it’s dark, but I can see sweat glistening at his temples, and he gives a faint shake of his head, whispering, “Princess.”
Heat crashes over me. He’s like a black widow. Silent, shiny, and oh so deadly.
His hand moves from my hip to around my back, up my spine to the nape of my neck. Goose bumps spread like fire, rapidly increasing. He grabs the back of my head, fisting my hair between his knuckles, and gives a light tug.
And then I realize what’s about to happen. Holyfuck. He’s going to kiss me.
