Page 21 of Backstage with a Billionaire Rockstar

“Woah, woah,” Evan says breathlessly. “It’s just me, Mia.”

He might be famous, but that doesn’t mean I can’t give him the stink eye. “Are you insane? I could’ve hurt you, you’re lucky I didn’t throw a punch!”

He frowns and runs a hand through his hair. It’s sticking up, almost as if he’s been doing nothing but running those large hands through it most of the night. I glance at the watch clasped around my wrist, noting that it’s past three in the morning, and I arch a brow.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

Evan clears his throat, glancing down each end of the hallway like I’ve been doing for hours, and say, “Look, we’ve been here for hours and no one has even stepped foot in this hallway.”

“Okay…”

What is he getting at?

This time he’s the one who jerks his head toward the room. “Come on, you deserve rest just as much as I do.”

My mouth pops open, then I frown. “There’s only one bed.”

He smirks. “Don’t act too excited.”

I roll my eyes and chew on the inside of my cheek. “I should really stand watch, you never know what could happen.”

“You’re exhausted and I’ll only worry if you end up falling asleep out here in the open.” We’re silent for a few moments, staring at each other, then he flashes me a cocky grin when I slump my shoulders in defeat. “Good girl.”

Instead of halting my movements and going right back to my position out the door, I push past his large frame. I’m heating up in ways I haven’t felt since we first met, and now I’m going to be closer to him than I’d like. He shuts the door, and then I listen as he clicks the lock into place and fastens the chain at the top before his heavy footsteps fall behind me.

It’s all good.

He walks around my frozen form, stopping right in front of me. I’m a ball of nerves, which is obvious by the way I keep shifting on my feet, and I can’t look anywhere but at the floor. Evan places his finger at the tip of my chin, forcing me to look at him, then cocks his head to the side.

“Am I making you nervous, darlin’?”

I scoff. “Please, I don’t get nervous. That’s ridiculous.”

“Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course.”

He scrubs a hand down his face and sighs, his gaze darting away from mine like he’s ashamed of what he’s about to tell me. “There’s a different reason I wanted you in the room,” he says quietly, almost a whisper.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m scared,” he says. “I can’t admit that to the guys. I’m the level-headed one of the group, always thinking with a clear head, and they can’t know that I’m all over the place right now.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Evan doesn’t say anything, just goes over to the single bed sitting in the middle of the room and sits at the edge of it while looking down at his hands clasped together in his lap. I study him for a moment, trailing my gaze over every inch of his body for any tells.

He’s tapping his foot, but not as though he’s nervous – most people do it frantically when the nerves hit, but he’s tapping every three seconds or so. It’s more like he’s thinking too hard and can’t seem to figure out what he wants to do, so he taps his foot.

I bring my gaze back up the length of his body, catching the way his muscles strain through the sleeves from the tension in his body. There’s tattoos covering the length of his arm, his shirt covering what’s missing, and, although it’s the worst possible time to have the thought, I want to pull off him to admire the artwork more closely.

“I’ve been keeping it all inside,” he whispers, still looking at his hands. “I don’t know how to be open about it.”

As much as I don’t want to recall my past, maybe if I do, it will help him be more open about the things happening in the present. I walk over and sit next to him on the bed, then let out a heavy sigh.

This is going to be a lot.

“You’re not the only one who acts tough even though they’re terrified, you know?”

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