Page 22 of Thanks for Coming Along

It was midday, the sun casting a warm, golden glow over the festival grounds. The crowd hushed as Eden sang, collectively spellbound by the evocative melodies that spilled from the stage. The crowd of festival-goers in front of her swayed to the rhythm, seemingly lost in the euphoria of the performance. She cradled her guitar like a lover, her fingers dancing over the strings as if weaving a web of sound.

As he continued to capture her performance, Ronan couldn't help but be entranced. It wasn't just her music; it was the way she seemed to channel something beyond herself, something that resonated with every person in the crowd. It was a connection, a shared experience that transcended words. The festival lights played upon her face, creating ever-shifting patterns of light and shadow. In those moments, she was more than a musician; she seemed like a mystic.

He lowered his camera, a little breathless from the performance. His gaze shifted to Ingrid, who stood beside him in the backstage area. Ronan followed Ingrid's line of sight to Beck. Her attention fastened on the drummer as if she were determined not to miss a single detail. Her hungry gaze devoured every detail. His muscled arms moved with a graceful frenzy, conjuring a rhythm that pulsed through the very air. His body moved in perfect harmony with the music. Each strike of the drumsticks was a testament to his passion, and every beat reverberated through the crowd. His hair, damp with sweat, swayed with each movement, and his eyes were closed in a trance of ecstasy. He was also shirtless, ripped, and adorned with intricate tattoos. Ronan could see the... appeal.

Beck's head turned to the side as if he could feel her attention. He delivered a playful wink in Ingrid's direction. Her visible annoyance bristled at the expression, and she crossed her arms firmly over her chest. Ronan struggled to suppress a chuckle, disguising it as a slight cough.

"He's utterly incurable," Ingrid muttered quietly, her voice tinged with exasperation. “Basicallycertifiable."

"What's the history there?" Ronan couldn't resist asking even though he knew they had dated in college, and it hadn't ended well. Ingrid sighed, her gaze still fixed on Beck.

"Have you ever let your hormones take over your frontal lobe?" She raised an eyebrow, her tone half-amused. Ronan couldn't help but nod in agreement, recalling certain veryrecentencounters.

"Some people," Ingrid continued, her voice growing more contemplative. “They will never change. It took me a long time to realize that. I wanted to believe in something that wasn't possible." Her gaze remained fixed on Beck, her eyes holding an emotion that seemed to elude definition.

"Has it been hard being around him?" Ronan asked sympathetically. Ingrid's lips curved into a wry smile.

"Honestly, this is the first time I've been around him since we broke up four years ago. I know four years is a long time, but..." She paused, her eyes distant, lost in the memory. "I don't know why I am telling you this. Beck..." It seemed to get lodged in her throat when she said his name.

"We're trying to act like everything is normal, but we fall back into our old pattern of provoking each other, craving any reaction. Being around him is like being addicted to something you know is bad for you. It's irresistible. It just tugs at the edges of my brain until I want to scream.." Ingrid reluctantly tore her gaze away from the drummer, giving her head a slight, almost imperceptible shake.

Ronan didn't want to relate to her statement, but he had a sinking feeling he would be in a similar situation if he didn't get his act together.

"Forget I said anything. Everything is completely fine," Ingrid quickly added, forcing a small smile that seemed more like an attempt to convince herself than anyone else. In an almost inaudible mumble, Ronan thought he heard her say, "It's not like I want to pluck out each of my singular hairs on my head every second I'm around him."

A heavy, distorted guitar riff rang through the air, interrupting Ronan's focus on the conversation. Eden's voice surged, commanding the stage with a blend of swagger and vulnerability against the backing guitar and drums. Ronan swiftly adjusted his camera to capture the performance. The song was gritty but sensual; her voice was an unapologetic sound.

Ronan couldn't look away; she hypnotized him, how she moved and flipped hair when she leaned over and engaged to the crowd. Her short skirt distractedly brushed her upper thighs, and her platform boots elongated her legs in a way that was hard for Ronan to ignore.

As the song reached its climax, Eden sensually pivoted her body in Ronan's direction. Her face remained oriented towards the crowd as she sang the verse, her hips swaying seductively down the length of the microphone stand. She retained a firm grip on the mic with her right hand while her left hand followed the contours of the stand, her body undulating gracefully down the pole until she reached her knees. She flicked her hair over her shoulder and paused for a second; wild, frenzied screams rang out in the crowd. She expertly tipped the mic stand over at the base on an angle andgyratedover it. A sly, seductive smile curled at the corner of her lip, and with the devil in her eyes, she locked her gaze directly into Ronan's camera lens. His heart pounded to the point of almost sputtering out, all the blood rushing to his dick. He wasn't sure his dick had ever been harder. His brain was definitely not getting enough oxygen.Jesus. He rapidly blinked as if trying to clear the fog of wildly inappropriate thoughts swirling in his mind. Mainly how he could become that mic stand in his next life.

"How is your frontal lobe doing?" Ingrid said with a chuckle; it cut through the haze of his imagination. He felt a rush of warmth in his cheeks as he quickly tore his gaze away from Eden.

14

Ronan

After a few more songs and a solid effort to focus on literally anything other than Eden, Ronan’s body finally calmed down. What really did the trick, though, was the memory of Eden’s phone call with Quentin—the way her face lit up at seeing his name on the screen and how she’d quietly slipped out of the trailer to take the call in private.

For some reason, it gnawed at him. He adored her smile, but when it was directed at the 'Sexiest Man Alive' according to a popular magazine from the following year, it didn't bring him joy. Quite the opposite, it chipped away at his stomach, leaving him queasy.

Eden's set came to a close, and she practically bounded off the stage, her performance still reverberating in the air. As she made her way past him, she brushed her hand against his forearm, sending a surge of warmth through his veins. It was a fleeting touch, innocent in its intention, yet it felt like a wildfire igniting beneath his skin, leaving him uneasy by the intensity of his reaction.

"What an amazing crowd!" Eden beamed as she wrapped Ingrid in a warm hug, her eyes still sparkling with the energy of the performance.

"Did you have a good time,princess?" Beck interjected in a deep drawl, his eyes locked onto Ingrid. Finn and Reef erupted in a collective groan, a clear sign that trouble was brewing. Ingrid responded with a low growl, her eyes narrowing with a furious glint.

"Don't call me that," she snapped at Beck. "And for your information, little drummer boy, you missed a few notes back there."

Beck, undeterred, shot back with a playful grin. "Only because you were drilling holes into the side of my head with that thousand-yard stare of yours."

"You had something on your face the whole time you were on stage. So embarrassing," Ingrid's tone dripped with disdain.

"Wanna come lick it off? I'll let you.. just ask nicely." Beck asked with a smirk.

Rolling her eyes, Ingrid replied, "I'd rather take a body shot of paint thinner off Jabba the Hutt." Their exchange continued as Beck and Ingrid made their way to Eden's trailer, leaving Eden and Ronan to walk alone.

"Come back to the trailer. We'll check out the other line-ups in a bit," Eden suggested, flashing a smile before she started walking. "No filming, just fun!" She added over her shoulder. No filming seemed like a recipe for disaster, but he had to admit he enjoyed being around her. With a resigned sigh, he lowered his camera and followed her.

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