Page 13 of Pretty Little Rocker

I wasn’t sure Sparks was going to survive our set with Hayat Hellion Cutter. He’d been my best friend for the majority of our lives, but he was pushing buttons that had both Jamie and me ready to take a swing at him.

But there was no denying the chemistry between him and Hayat. He was living up to his name with all the sparks flying as the two of them teased each other throughout the songs.

Hayat had us all hyped up, Sparks included, but the fucker wouldn’t admit it to himself yet.

Then halfway through our second song, the one Jamie had suggested because it was his favorite cover we did, Sparks did something—fuck, I wasn’t even sure what the hell he did—that had Hayat throwing a drumstick at him. It nailed him in the shoulder, but she didn’t miss a beat, picking up another stick from the bag between her feet and continuing to play, her energy never once changing.

The chemistry burned higher, threatening to burst into flame.

After that, Sparks seemed to perk up more, and by the end of the third song, he was even standing closer to the drums, grinning at her. When I saw him wink at her, I was torn between wanting to scoop his eyes from his head or hugging the sonofabitch for finally seeing what the rest of us saw.

I couldn’t deny it. I was jealous of that magic that flared between them. Or Jamie and Hayat. Or the three of them together. I hated it. But I fucking loved it.

Because I wanted this so goddamn bad. Us. As a band.

As more.

But we had secrets we hadn’t told her or anyone else.

Would she accept them when we confessed? Or would she run from all three of us and never look back?

Excitement mixed with my anxiety. My fear of losing her before I ever tasted her—before any of us could truly make her ours.

As soon as the last note faded, Hayat stood, her left hand lifted, drumstick in hand and aimed right at Sparks’s chest. “You ever try to trip me up like that again, and I’ll be using your heart as a snare.” She said it so sweetly, but there was no denying the venom beneath it. Or the flames in her eyes. Her tone might have been soft, saccharine, but she put so much heat behind her words that she scalded the three of us on that stage.

Fuck, that was sexy.

Such a pretty voice, full of so much dangerous promise.

Thankfully, I was holding my guitar low enough to hide how hard my cock was. I grasped Hayat’s wrist before she could stab my guitarist through the heart. “He was just playing with you, Hellion,” I assured her, letting my thumb skim soothingly over her inner wrist. Shit, her skin was soft. “Weren’t you, Sparks?”

He nodded, keeping his eyes on her hand that I wasn’t restraining, the tip of his tongue licking over his bottom lip. “I was playing. But only because I was still trying to deny how amazing we all are together. I apologize for being a dickhead, Hellion.”

“Or should we call you Havoc?” Jamie choked out as he came over, his phone in hand. When he lifted his head, his eyes were huge behind his mask as he turned the device to show us all the screen. “You are Havoc?”

She gave a careless shrug. “I use the persona online to share my passion for playing, without risking the world claiming I’m only piggybacking off my grandfathers’ names. Atticus mentioned Wes was recording. I figured he would post something about this, and if he got a shot of my tattoos, then he was able to prove it was really me.”

Her lips twisted into a grimace. Even that was pretty. I was losing my mind. Beauty like hers shouldn’t exist, but it did. And I wanted to drown in it. Turning, she showed us the crossed drumsticks on the backs of both of her upper arms. “I’ve only shown my ink once or twice over the years, but it got attention. I thought it would take a little longer before it went viral, but he must have known what hashtags to use to prompt the algorithm so quickly.”

From offstage, I heard a few savage curses. Harris, Devlin, Aubree, and Kale all were looking at their own phones. Atticus was still seated, patiently waiting, but I could read the resignation on his face. He’d been present for our trial with Hayat. Or Hellion. Or fuck, maybe we should just keep calling her Havoc.

“Hayat,” Harris called.

“Yeah, Dad,” she said, blowing out a heavy exhale. “I know.”

“Sweetheart, we can fix this,” Devlin tried to reassure her.

Smiling sadly, she shook her head. “Nah, Pop-Pop. It’s okay. I couldn’t hide who I am forever. I’m not worried about losing Havoc right now.” Her gaze shifted to us. “Do you three need to take time to consider who you want to fill the open spot? I understand if you do. You’re all about anonymity, so I know you’ll need time to consider the whole Havoc situation.”

“But you understand anonymity too,” Jamie reasoned, speaking what I was thinking aloud. “You even auditioned completely anonymously. That shows me you’ll be considerate of our own needs to hide our identities.”

“Yeah,” Sparks agreed, surprising her. “My hesitation about not offering you the drummer spot was because I thought you would be some attention diva. But you were able to hide who you really are for years. This changes things for me, Havoc.”

She flinched. “I’m not sure I’m Havoc any longer. Let’s stick with Hayat. Or if we’re going to use pseudonyms, I’ll go with Hellion. Nate seemed to get a kick out of that.”

“I dunno,” Jamie said, slinging an arm around her shoulders, his fingers trailing lightly up and down her arm. I heard her breath catch ever so softly, but she tried to hide her reaction. “I like Havoc a hell of a lot. But Hellion works too.”

A phone rang from a table offstage, causing Hayat to groan. “That’s mine. I need to get it.”

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