Page 78 of Wes

Staring at a metal railing yards ahead of me, I pulled Hadley Ramirez’s long sleeve, and huffed, “Will you move already? I want to get to the front row before they come on stage.”

When he didn’t utter a sound nor advanced an inch, I glanced behind, and fumed at my best friend.

He winked at me. “Chill. Plenty of time. Opening act has just wrapped up.” He fumbled with his phone before sliding it inside the back pocket of his Bermuda shorts.

The loud pattern of colorful birds and tropical flowers reminded me of Hawaiian beaches and sunny days, quite inappropriate for an autumnal Boston evening. When I’d pointed that out to him earlier at the dorm, he’d shrugged saying his red and gray MIT sweater would keep him warm.

I tilted my head to indicate his butt. “Taking business calls already?” I mocked.

He guffawed. “You jest, but mark my words, young lady. Before this sophomore year ends, with my business acumen and your brilliant mind, we’ll be millionaires.” He made a face when I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, I was just saving the contact info for that cute brunette.” He waved behind to a short woman who smiled back at him before frowning at me.

I squinted my eyes. “Monna?” I asked him.

He nodded.

I added, “She’s in my lab study group, the one who meets Monday mornings. I guess I’ll have to talk to her tomorrow to clarify we’re not a couple.” I slapped his forearm. “That’s become almost a full-time job lately.”

He smirked, then slouched, pretending to walk with a cane. “College kids got too much time on their hands. All they do is gossip.”

The arena lights got dimmed by about a third and my heart thumped like a caged bird. I dug my nails into his right hand. He groaned, and laced his fingers through mine, stepping ahead of me. I gawked at Hadley’s broad shoulders as he bumped against unsuspecting people. He mumbled apologies, but kept trudging, parting the sea of swaying bodies in our way as if he were a messenger from some deity on a life or dead mission.

When he wrapped his long fingers around the waist-high metal barrier separating the crowd from the center of the stage, he bowed with a flourish. “Milady, your spot awaits you.”

Draping his free arm around my shoulders, he settled me in front of him. I leaned against his heaving chest and took long inhales before longer exhales. He folded his arms around my waist and rested his chin on the top of my head.

As if on cue, eerie music filled the chilly air through the PA system and the arena turned pitch-black for a heartbeat as cannons of smoke blasted their contents, submerging the stage area in thick artificial fog. Dozens of suspended spotlights beamed purple, red, and blue rays down in all directions as the rock stars of Muse of Darkness strutted to their designated marks on the stage.

Wes Baron headed the procession, strolling to straddle a round stool behind his drum set. His short blonde hair was hidden under a gray beanie matching a figure-hugging tee he wore tucked inside tight jeans.

Next came Logan Maine, who received a neon-yellow bass from a stage assistant as soon as he emerged from the smoke to my right. Hadley and I stood close enough I glimpsed Logan’s piercing blue eyes before a curtain of long, dark hair shielded his expression as he leaned to adjust the strings. Despite the loose-fitting orange top he’d chosen for that gig, the bulging muscles and profuse tattoos underneath peaked at me with each movement of his tall frame.

Third band member to appear was guitar hero, Nick Tennant. His full lips sported a wide smile, which illuminated deep-set green eyes as he raised both arms, waving at the expectant crowd. We hollered and whistled in response. The bejeweled strap of his guitar got caught in the zipper of his bespoke caramel leather jacket, causing the audience to crack up as the scene played out on the twenty-five-feet tall video screens hanging on each side of the stage.

“Welcome to late night television, folks,” he murmured into the mic, in self-deprecation.

I didn’t have time to react to Nick’s joke because my whole being got sucked into another dimension as the last band member was about to appear onstage. A white beam, with the strength of a thousand suns, produced a cone of smokey light flooding the area around a solitary mic a few feet away from me. Jumping in place, I held on to Hadley for dear life as his broad chest protected me from the frenzied throng.

At the edge of my consciousness, I picked up flashes of images of people fainting, being carried away around me. Nothing else mattered though, because Erik Crawford was here. After years of listening to his music inside my head, through earphones, or loudspeakers, I would finally delight myself in the live experience. Music critics often described Muse of Darkness concerts as belonging to a league of their own. Tonight, I had a front row seat to assess that opinion myself.

Erik’s deep-set eyes were squeezed shut when he grabbed the mic and belted the first verses of their newest release. The fast-paced track about star-crossed lovers finding a tragic end had shot up the music charts all over the world in a matter of days. Now, it ignited the audience into a frenetic choir of over nineteen thousand voices.

The perennial black leather suit hugged his six-foot frame, showcasing ripped muscles everywhere. Raven locks of hair fell over his brow, and curled at the collar of his jacket, framing high cheekbones, and a scruff-covered jaw. I grabbed the metal railing for balance when dimples marked the side of his voluptuous mouth, when he wrapped up the first song and we, his audience, hooted, howled, and hollered.

He disengaged the mic from its stand, draped the cord over his shoulder, and staggered to the edge of the stage, where he bent at the waist, scanning the audience.

He challenged us. “Are you having a good time yet, Boston?”

We threw yeses and whistles back at him in response.

He snickered at the concert camera feeding the video screen. “Bet we’ll have a great time tonight.”

When he swatted the camera away, swirling to join bassist Logan Maine, Erik’s chocolate gaze locked on mine.

My heart skipped a few beats as my world turned on its axis to settle upside down, and my lungs forgot to breathe. On the verge of fainting, I sucked in air in a loud gasp.

Nick’s voice echoed in the stadium in the flat tone of a PA announcer, “Ladies and gents, forgive the interruption. Our lead singer will resume our programming as soon as he remembers the fucking lyrics to our next song.”

Erik blinked a couple of times breaking the invisible bond that had connected us for a spell. My legs wobbled, so I found support against Hadley’s strong ones.

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