Page 2 of Knot Just A Fan

Though we both know that will level me. I’m sick to my stomach about it, but I’m ten years older than when I met him. And I know in my heart, I can’t go on dreaming of someone who will never see me as more than a fan he took under his professional wing for a minute.

Arcadia Echo isn’t just a band, they’re a pack of three Alphas: Grayson Cove, lead singer and songwriter, ice-blue eyes, dark brown hair, goatee, tall and lean, with tattoos covering all I’ve ever seen of his right arm and leg, Then there’s Ronan O’Sullivan, the blonde, man-bun-sporting bassist who, despite his quiet demeanor, seems to have the fiercest storms behind those expressive eyes that say more than his mouth ever does; and British-Italian drummer Enzo Flynn, the band’s talker, joker, and tee-totaler. He might perform the most outlandish antics on stage, but he seems to live the least rock-star lifestyle you could imagine.

Have I mentioned they have no Omega?

They seem no closer to settling down with one either, though I know why. Grayson’s never spoken much of Willow, his childhood friend, but I’ve heard her name in passing by the others. And I can only suspect there’s something there. What I don’t know is why she doesn’t live with them. Or I never see her. Whatever it is, they have made no official move.

But they’re all about a decade older than Cami and I, so they’rewayoverdue to mate and have pups if that’s their goal. And when that happens, my dream of knowing what Grayson’s like—of sliding into his arms just once before I have to give him up—well, it’ll shatter.

And so will I.

This is well-tread territory, so I go quiet. My eyes glaze as Cami takes a super-fine paint brush and swirls hints of silver into the gold she’s laid down on her ring finger. I’m just trying not to smear all mine and she’s painting intricate designs in hers.

“Buck up, love. You know he wouldn’t laugh you off.”

I lick my lips. “Do I?”

Cami looks up from under those enormous natural black lashes. “Brie, for what it’s worth, he’s not the only guy out there.” Her voice softens. “I know how you’ve felt, I know how long this has gone on?—”

I break in, throwing a hand up. “I know, it’s ridiculous. I know I need to stop this. It’s already taken too much of me.”

Of my heart, I want to say, but it’s too cheesy, even for me. Sometimes the truthisjust a big fucking chunk of cheese, though, and you can only shrug and accept it.

“Just don’t let him break you. No man’s worth that, no matter how much you feel he’s meant for you. There’s a pack, somewhere. I know it.”

I smile then stand, lean in, kiss my hand and pat her forehead. “Damn girl, you smell good. That that new perfume? The dupe for the posh one at Harrod’s we tried? Shit, it really smells like it!”

She laughs and fans the air with her hands. “I need a straw for my G&T because I’m not messing these babies up. No! It’s the real thing.”

“How did you afford it?” I practically screech, wheeling around to face her.

Cami snickers. “That last portrait I did paid a massive bonus. And since I hadn’t figured it into my budget, it was a real treat-yo’self moment.” She shrugs. “So I did.”

“Well deserved, mate, well deserved.” I grin. “I’ll be your straw.” I lift her drink to her lips and she takes a big sip.

Then she laughs. “Thanks, weirdo. Now, let’s discuss outfits before we pass on every single one of them and stick with the same ones we always wear out.”

“Too late,” I say. “I bought something. Sequined skirt and top combo. With those knee-high boots I figured. You’re not the only one who needed a treat last week.”

Cami oohs then nods sagely. “Last week was a bitch.”

I love my job. Long before I graduated from the Academy, I fell in love with photography. Mostly landscape, but I’d take photos of anything and spend hours editing. When I entered the Guild and got assigned gig photography for a small handful of up-and-coming bands, it felt like destiny had finally fallen in my lap. Working music venues, shooting live concerts, in the studio, promotional materials, and getting paid to do it? Dream come true.

The first band I worked with was Arcadia Echo. They were an indie art-rock band and they needed a photographer to help them cement an image to strike the right chord with listeners. I had eighteen months with them, falling in love with their introspective, sometimes political, sometimes mind-bending ear-worms—and falling in love with Grayson Cove.

But by the end of that time, Arcadia Echo had recorded their second album, put out by a big label. They were invited to open for a huge American singer on the second leg of her record-breaking US tour. And then, they were off to the stars.

They made friends in the LA music scene, and for eight years, worked their tails off. They recorded three more albums, played all around the North America, South America, and Asia. Their social media always said things like,Living out these adventures while we have the chance.

Then, three months ago, they came home. I got the call from their manager, offering me the role of photographer again—thistime on their second European tour ever. And my stress levels have skyrocketed.

Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve, and their first gig on UK soil since they left. Testing the waters, kickstarting six months of European shows and festivals. Alongside all the stress of this prospect—good and bad stress—last week I had a gig every night, and two studio shoots during the day, for a total of nine jobs. Not to mention a monthly meeting with my guild mentor in the middle.

Then my mentor and I got into an argument, as usual—or rather, she argued and I stumbled around for a defense and a rebuttal, coming up with random nonsense syllables, and ended up having to hide my blotchy face afterwards with cheap drugstore makeup because I didn’t have time to get back to the flat. And then I broke out from the makeup. So. Not my favorite week, to be fair.

But still, I’m back with Echo. It’s not just their soaring post-rock tunes and falsetto ballads that move me. Even if I simply passed them on the street, I’d have felt the magnet-pull of Grayson Cove. I know this because the day we met, I had no idea he was a musician at all. All I knew was that shy yet self-assured grin made my insides melt, and my heart want to drop the walls that have hemmed it in all my life.

The moment he opened his goateed mouth and those amber tones rolled out, with Ronan’s bass line throbbing under Gray’s guitar and entwining with Enzo’s immaculate drumming, I was injected with the most addictive drug in the universe, straight into my cells. My heart was theirs—his—forevermore.

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