Page 43 of Forbidden Lyrics

“Bullshit––”

“It’ll be fine because it has to be,” I seethe before taking a deep, calming breath. “Let’s show the crowd this is…all part of the plan.”

Stoker rolls his eyes and growls, “I’m gonna kill Fen after this,” but sets his bass down and reaches for a pearly white Fender guitar before tossing the bright green strap over his neck. He strums the strings, playing the beginning notes of “Never Mine” without missing a beat as he steps toward his microphone and tells the crowd, “We have a special treat for you tonight. Let’s show her some love!”

Phoenix hits his foot against the bass drum pedal in rhythm to Stoker’s strumming, still twirling his drumsticks between his fingers, and I turn around to face the crowd.

Holy. Freaking. Crap.

This is so much scarier than I thought it would be. There are so many people. Everyone’s staring at me. Everyone. Sammie behind the bar. Ashton. And every Tom, Dick, and Harry that are shoulder to shoulder in front of the stage. My mouth forms a tiny ‘o’ as I let out a slow breath and reach for the microphone, praying I don’t drop the stupid thing and make a fool out of myself in front of a bunch of strangers, let alone friends.

Then again, I doubt I’ll have to drop the mic to accomplish that one.

The lights are blinding, and a bead of sweat rolls down my spine as I try to get my nerves under control, but it’s a losing battle. It’s official. I’m freaking out.

Come on, Dove. You can do this.

With a fake smile pasted across my face, I lift the microphone to my mouth and try to keep my breathing steady as I let the words flow through me as if no one’s watching.

“Dark skies and lonely nights.

Your hazel eyes still haunt my mind.”

My voice is quiet. Maybe even a little squeaky. But at least it’s something. At least I’m putting on a show. At least they’ll have something to talk about after this is all said and done, right?

I squeeze my eyes shut and continue singing.

“But you’re not mine, babe.

Never gonna be mine, babe.”

A low, familiar voice joins mine.

“‘Cause you were meant to shine.”

My voice gets caught in my throat as my eyes snap open, and I see Gibson. With a microphone. And a freaking guitar strapped to him. Singing. With me.

“‘Cause you were never mine.

You’re just a ghost from before.”

He lifts his chin, silently encouraging me to continue.

I lick my lips and keep singing as he does the same.

“And we’ll never be more.

Never be more. Never be more.”

We sing the rest of the song, taking turns and stumbling once or twice as we try to catch our groove, but it’s still magnetic and pulls me closer and closer to Gibson while the crowd stays silent, watching our performance. The look in his eyes. The slight tilt of his mouth. The low grit in his voice. The way his guitar hangs low on his back as he grips the microphone like his life depends on it, letting Stoker take the lead guitar part so he can focus on singing. All of it is hypnotic. Addictive. And leaves me craving more, exactly like the rest of the crowd who is hanging on his every word.

By the end of the song, one thing is very clear. There’s no going back after tonight. Not when he puts on a show like this. Not when he has the audience eating out of the palm of his hand. But it confirms my suspicion. He was made for the limelight. The lights. The music. The stage. It’s a heady concoction, and I know I’m not the only one who notices.

When Gibbs and Stoker play the final chord, the audience screams, and Fender jumps on stage, cheering louder than anyone else.

“Did you see that?! Did you freaking see that?! Let’s give these two another round of applause!”

Gibson’s palm touches my lower back as he leads me off the stage and down the stairs before tangling our fingers together while the crowd cheers at the top of their lungs. I can feel everyone’s eyes on us. Watching us. Drawing their own conclusions as to who we really are and what type of relationship we might have. Honestly, I’m starting to wonder the same thing, but I keep my mouth shut and follow him outside.

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