Page 118 of Forbidden Lyrics

Clearing my throat, I turn back to the sexy, tattooed singer of Organized Chaos and nod. “Uh, yeah. Sure. That sounds great.”

“All right. See you guys after.”

He saunters onto the stage like he owns it. The audience screams their lungs out as the sexy bad boy starts bobbing his curly-haired head up and down in rhythm to the bassist’s opening riff to one of their latest hits.

“You guys, we killed it out there,” Phoenix announces, his voice overly enthusiastic as his gaze darts over to a very tense Fender.

“You’re right. We all killed it,” I emphasize. “That was incredible.”

“Yeah, it was okay,” Fen agrees, a little less enthused than before as he leans against the brick wall behind him.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I take in his tight muscles and clenched fists. He definitely heard Josh’s comment about stealing the show. And apparently, he’s not going to let it go.

“Here.” Gibson offers me a water bottle, and I chug half its contents, my skin still buzzing with adrenaline as I eye Fender warily, unsure what to say or do.

Why do I feel like this is my fault?

“You gonna be all right at the party?” Gibson asks Fen, his voice quiet.

Arms folded, a serious Fen growls, “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Gibson cocks his head but doesn’t answer him. Because we all know the answer to that, no matter how hard Fender’s trying to act oblivious. After-parties get crazy. Or at least, I assume they do. I’m not that naive.

“Maybe you should stay back tonight,” Gibson offers carefully.

Bristling, Fen clenches his jaw. “You serious?”

“I just wanna make sure your head’s on straight. You always wanna chase the high after a show––”

“I don’t need a babysitter, Gibbs.”

Gibson sighs. “Fen––”

He pushes off from the wall. “I’m gonna go to the back room and chill until the show’s over.”

Gibson drops his chin to his chest as Fender storms down the hall, leaving us in his dust. I’m not sure why he’s surprised Gibson felt the need to check on him. It’s literally the reason he’s here. But I get it. No one wants a chaperone. Especially one that joined him on stage and stole the spotlight.

Hooking his thumb over his shoulder, Phoenix says, “I’m gonna go hang out too. We’ll meet you guys later, yeah?”

“Okay.” I wave goodbye at him and Stoker before playing with the hem of Gibson’s T-shirt to get his attention.

“Hey, you.”

“Am I an ass?” he rasps, still refusing to look at me.

I shake my head. “No. You have a right to be concerned. I haven’t known Fen long, and I can see how much he struggles with parties. And since his ego took a hit like that earlier…” I grimace and touch his forearm. “You’re definitely not an ass.”

“He’s pissing me off, though,” he seethes, pinning me with his heated stare. “Does he think I want to be his babysitter? I…”

“You want him to be safe,” I finish for him. “And happy. You’re a good big brother, Gibbs. And even though he might struggle to see it in these situations, he knows that. Let him cool down. We’ll all keep an eye on him tonight, okay?”

“You sure you wanna go?” he asks, holding my gaze.

I nod. “Yeah. Sure. Besides, I think keeping Fen away from the party will only fuel his frustration.”

“Good point.”

“I’m not gonna do any drugs or anything, though,” I warn him. “Not that you’d ever pressure me to or anything. I just feel like I should set up those boundaries so that you never have to question them. Heck, I’ve never even been drunk before, so no, thank you.”

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