It’s a few songs in before I finally manage to snap out of it—just in time to notice the crowd in our section of the wings has tripled. I also only just now realize that Jodie is elbowing me.
My eyebrows raise in question after it takes maximum effort to tear my gaze away from the incredible show, and I focus on the tiny woman next to me.
Her eyes are wide, and she’s shaking her head while tapping at her headset, mouthing something.
“What?”
She taps her earpiece again, urging me to listen, and I get it; she can’t speak because she told me she has an open line, andwhen she speaks everyone on the channel can hear her. It takes me a few seconds to focus on the heated conversation crackling through my own, since I completely zoned out the droning of instructions the moment Jace started to sing.
“I mean, I don’t think it’ll take long before he finally bends over for me. He can only put up with this stupid game of his for so long,” a man’s voice cuts through my earpiece.
“Watch what comes out of that big mouth of yours,” a second guy chimes in, his voice drier. “You know that sounds like a hashtag MeToo case waiting to happen, you idiot.”
Yup.Agreed on that.
“No way. Iknowhe wants me too. I see it in his eyes every time I tag along for those stupid runs. He hasn’t turned me down yet, has he?”
I frown, the first sparks of recognition kindling in my brain as to who these guys might be.
“You really are an idiot.” There’s scoffing—loud, sharp. “The guy’s just too damn afraid you’ll kick him off the tour. You know this is a big break for them. We’veallbeen at that point in our careers.”
My eyes flick across the backstage area, trying to confirm the gut feeling building in my chest, thehatealready simmering there beneath the surface.
“Just stop tryin’ already,” the second guy says. “It’s gettin’ embarrassing. I swear, I don’t want to wake up one morning to find us trending onGood Morning Americabecause someone’s accusing you of being the headliner in some fucking scandal. Say bye-bye to our next world tour in a hot second.”
“Fuck you.”
“FuckJace, you mean?”
“That too.” The first guy lets out a grunt, followed by what sounds like a softthwack—maybe the other guy hit him. “Justlook at him. No wonder their ratings are soaring. The whole fucking world is in that guy’s grasp if he wants it.”
I shift my gaze around again. We’re tucked into the back corner of the wings, mostly hidden behind a stack of speakers, and it doesn’t take me long to find the source of the voices. No surprise—it’s Mick. Of course it’s fucking Mick. The frontman of Six of Hearts, the band Jace is opening for. He’s standing just off to the side, in the wings, casually chatting with one of his bandmates, clearly unaware anyone might be listening in.
And judging by the snatches of chatter still crackling through my earpiece—lighting cues, in-ear mix levels, someone asking about a missing snare—it’s unlikely anyone elseispaying attention.
But I am.
And I don’t fucking like what I’m hearing.
This is the first time I’m seeing Mick up close. Well,sort of.It’s pretty dark over here, but the guy is all dark, anyway. Dark longish hair, dark clothes, dark scruff… He blends right in with the surroundings. And yeah, he’s hot. Yes, I’m at the point where I can appreciate the physique of an attractive guy. But let’s be real, his personality kind of ruins the entire package.
Jace told me about his relentlessness. Of course he did. He tells meeverything.
He told me that Mick is flirting with him, trying to get him in bed, and is pushing the boundaries every damn time. He told me about the label, how they want to use this for publicity, and itsucks.It sucks very much, but I trust Jace. He’s been honest about it, and I love him even more for that.
I have to admit, though, maybe Iamtoo lax about this. But that’s not because I don’t believe him. Not at all. It’s just... I’m not really a jealous person to begin with, I’m not scared that something will happen, because it won’t.
I don’t like seeing them together on socials and in the media, of course I don’t. But it’s easier to just laugh about the absurdity of it, to not make it a thing. Because it’s not a thing if we’re not making it a thing. And it’s not like shit is going to happen, anyway.
Like I said, I trust Jace. I trustus. We’re solid, him and me. Do we have issues about this whole distance shit? Of course we do. But I know, and he knows, that we’re going to make it. And some whackadoodle, arrogant-ass rockstar isn’t going to change that.
Even if heisone of the most famous frontmen in the world.
Still, as I stare at Mick now, my brows furrowed, expression tight, his gaze flicks past me… then snaps back. His frown deepens into a full-on glare.
I glare right back.
He cocks his head, says something to the guy next to him as he gestures to me—who I now recognize as his brother, the one who’s also in the band.
