Wendy.
"Hey, give me a sec." I clap my guy on the shoulder and push past the guests to get closer to her.
She smiles as soon as our eyes meet and then shifts uncomfortably, clutching the band pass I gave her with one hand and pulling at the short dress she’s wearing with the other.
I'm beside her immediately, and I feel like I'm back in my awkward teenage years, likely blushing beneath the face paint. "You came," I say, my voice unintentionally turning it into more of a question.
"Yes," she replies, her eyes darting around briefly. "It's hectic back here."
"We're behind schedule," I tell her as I gently place my hand on her lower back and pull her slightly closer to let a stage crew member rush past.
I’m not trying to find ways to touch her. It’s an honest attempt to keep her out of harm’s way, but this sudden closeness amplifies all my senses.
I do my best to ignore the way her hair smells like vanilla or the soft warmth radiating off her skin. Now isn't the time for distractions, but I can't help wanting to shield her from all of this—the drugs, the anarchy, the darkness that lurks beneath the glittering facade of rock stardom. The darkness that has already consumed Chance.
My gaze travels over her, taking in the slightly smudged eyeliner, the bright lipstick, the heavy boots, the leather choker. She's trying so hard to fit in, and she’s doing it really well, but something tells me she doesn’t really want to. The uncertainty in her eyes, the way she worries her bottom lip.
"You look beautiful," I say, my voice rough with unspoken emotion.
A flicker of surprise crosses her face, followed by a soft, genuine smile. "Thank you. To be honest, this dress is a size too small."
"Looks good on you."
"I’m glad."
I lean in and whisper in her ear, "But I’m sure you’d look good in anything."
For a moment, we just stand there, lost in our own little world.
But the spell is broken almost immediately by a drunk laugh coming from one of Justice’s groupies stumbling past in a cloud of perfume and booze.
Reality comes crashing back, and I remember where we are. What I have to do.
"We’re on in five!" Angelo shouts from somewhere off to the side.
The pre-show track blasting from the speakers is already playing, whipping the eager audience into a frenzy of excited shouts. The lights flicker again a few times. I know that out there, in front of the stage, people are getting glimpses of what they’re about to witness. I know some have seen us before and some are here for the first time, and it’s my job to give these people what they want, to get them moving, to allow them to experience our music with every fiber in their body.
I squeeze Wendy's hand before letting it go. "Enjoy the show. I'll see you after, okay?"
She waves the pass in front of my face. "You sure they won’t be kicking anyone out again like last night?"
"Not with this. Wanna come hang out with us when we’re done?"
She hesitates for a heartbeat.
"I promise we’re cool," I reassure her.
Finally, she nods. "Yeah. Okay."
"Awesome. Then I’ll see you after the set."
With one last lingering look, I turn away, steeling myself for the ninety minutes that are about to follow.
"So that's where the pass disappeared to," Justice rumbles to my left as I start walking toward the stage entrance. Entitled asshole sounds a bit too cheeky. He even has the audacity to elbow me in my ribs. He must be high too. Sober, he’s a grump.
"None of your business," I mutter, elbowing him back.
"If you plan on getting into her panties, you better hurry up and make a move. She could be gone tomorrow."
