Page 22 of Severance

The main floor is packed. The music blaring from the speakers is gravelly with overwhelming lyrics. I hear the ominous wordsdark, midnight,andbloodthat stir something in me. Not in an unpleasant way, because the melody is still beautiful. Chilling but beautiful. Much like some of the Midnight Rust songs on YouTube. These words somehow resonate with me and with my feelings.

We meet Luke next to a narrow door near the side of the stage. He’s dressed in solid black, his blond hair slicked back. His cheeks are pink and his eyes are wide as they roam around the room. He looks tipsy. The bouncer’s gaze ping-pongs between Jess and me and our IDs for a very long time before he finally hands us two yellow wristbands.

The backstage area is a dark maze of endless hallways full of equipment and half-naked bodies—girls in spider web tees and tights, guys in spandex and leather. I feel like a teddy bear who accidentally got shipped into an adult toy store by mistake.

Luke’s head is gliding above the heads of everyone in front of us as he leads the way. He’s tall, loud, and a little drunk, and everyone seems to want to talk to him.

We reach the end of the hallway and get ushered into a small, stuffy dressing room. The smell of alcohol, cheap perfume, and cigarette smoke crawls up my nostrils as Jess pulls me into the cluster of people.

She has this amazing gift to instantly blend in anywhere, be it the rock’n’roll scene or an academic seminar. I just stand next to her, unmoving, smiling at everyone as I look around the room for Dakota, suddenly feeling nervous about not fitting in. My gaze slides from one person to another until it reaches an opening among the bodies.

There, in a tiny space between the studded jacket of a guy with a mohawk and the skin-tight top of a girl with purple hair, is a man who looks a lot like Dakota, although a bit older. I’m thinking he may be one of the guys from the band photos or videos, but I’ve been too starstruck to pay attention to anyone but the lead singer.

He’s sitting on a bench in the corner. Alone. Or at least, that’s what it appears he wants to be, because he’s not participating in any of the conversations. There’s a guitar on his lap and his palms are resting protectively on the body of the instrument as if she’s an antique. He’s wearing a Lost Boys t-shirt, and patches of ink cover his long, sculpted arms. He’s somewhat magnificent in his solitude, and the curiosity dancing in his eyes when his gaze catches mine sends a light chill up my spine.

“Hey, you!” The velvety voice that comes at me from the crowd belongs to Dakota. He reaches out to grab my shoulder and pulls me away from the center of the gathering.

“You made it.” His fingers, soft and warm, are still pressed against my skin, and despite my father preaching so much about how immoral it is to let guys like Dakota touch me the way I’m being touched right now, I don’t think it’s sinful. My father probably got the Bible all wrong.

If anything, it’s amazing and sizzling and makes me tingle all over.

“Yes.” I nod, my lips stretching into a silly smile. My eyes can’t get enough of him. His stage persona is sophisticated yet dark and enigmatic with a touch of wicked.

“You want something to drink?” he asks.

“Ummm.” My eyes dart around the room, scanning everyone’s wristbands. Not a single person is wearing a yellow one besides Jess and me. “Water’s fine.”

“Sure.” Dakota leans forward, his mouth near my ear. “I’m glad you came.” His breath, hot and heavy against my temple, trickles down my neck like an invisible feather, leaving a trail of goose bumps. His earthy smell entraps me in a sensual daze, the kind I don’t want to escape from. The kind that’s dirty, erotic even.

The fact that these forbidden thoughts creep into my mind staggers me.

If this is what my father considers a fast track to hell, I’m buying a one-way ticket and taking Dakota with me.

* * *

The pre-show chaos around me is strangely exciting. I’ve never been backstage before and I’m wondering if the stories about drugs and strippers are only stories, because, despite the abundance of drinks, no one here is snorting anything or having sex.

Jess and Luke look awfully cozy and Dakota had to step away for a second. I’m in the middle of the room surrounded by people I don’t know, feeling uneasy. A bottle of water in my hand screams “minor.”

“You look lost, new girl,” a rough voice calls from behind me. I spin on my heels and come face to face with the guitar guy I saw earlier on the bench.

“I am,” I agree, trying not to be too obvious while I stare, but he's the kind of guy you'd stare at against your will. Dark and mysterious with long midnight black hair, emerald green eyes full of secrets, and intricate ink designs on his arms that must have tons of stories behind them. He's the kind of guy my dad would call a “sinner.”

“I’ve never seen you before,” the stranger says, his face emotionless.

“It’s my first time here,” I explain, and the plastic bottle crackles between my fingers.

“I see. Well, all right. Have fun.” He gives me a curt nod, his eyes sizing me up one last time as he prepares to retreat.

That’s when Dakota’s smile enters my line of vision.

Standing side by side, they look almost identical, and now I have no doubt they’re related. Jess may have mentioned something when she trolled the band’s YouTube channel, but I probably missed that part. They have the same facial features, the same hair color, and the same body build. The same yet different. Like two sides of the same coin. Maybe even like Jekyll and Hyde from what I can tell by their demeanors, although that might be a stretch, because I don’t know either one well enough.

“I see you already met my brother.” Dakota confirms my theory, his gaze shifting from hisbrotherto me and back before he shows me a dimple-dazzling smile that makes my heart dance. “Mikah, this is Alana. Alana. This is my brother, Mikah.”

“Hi,” I say meekly, wondering how upset my father would be if he knew I was backstage with the band. I’m also wondering why he infiltrates my thoughts at the most inappropriate moments, like right now.

“Cool.” Mikah’s sounds indifferent. He turns to Dakota and gives him a light pat on the back. “I’ll see you on stage, kid.” Then he disappears into the crowd.

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