Page 54 of Ticket to the Stars: Part One

The dress had padding, which meant no bra. It had no straps, but it’d been made with my measurements, so it should fit, I guess. It was pretty tight all the way down, and it ended halfway up my thighs. No doing the splits in this dress.

I couldn’t do the splits now, but that was beside the point.

The dress’s zipper was on its side, so thankfully I didn’t need anybody’s help getting it on. It felt like a couture homecoming dress. Or maybe a weird wedding dress. Whatever. The dress itself was easy and straightforward, and I had to pause to glance at myself in the mirror before reaching for the jacket and the wings resting on the vanity countertop.

My hair matched the dress. It wasn’t the worst look.

To try to get my mind off the stupid jacket and the dumb wings, I spoke loudly, “Ramona said she told you guys about a show next week. How come you didn’t tell me we were performing?” I picked up the jacket, steeling my nerves.

At first, I thought the guys didn’t hear me, but after a long pause, Bishop answered, “Priest was supposed to tell you. He never did?”

Ah, the one who avoided being alone with me, because he couldn’t handle having made out with me. Right.

“Nope,” I called out. “He kept that bit of information to himself.” I closed my eyes as I pulled on the jacket. It had a bit of extra oomph to it, in order to keep the wings up. Padding in the shoulders, along the back shoulder blades.

“I’m sorry,” Bishop said. “Next time I’ll make sure to tell you.”

I didn’t know why Ramona herself hadn’t told me. It was almost like she wanted me to fail and succumb to my nerves—but that was a stupid thought, because I was only here because of her. She wouldn’t bring me in only to push me to crash and burn.

I slipped my arms into the jacket, keeping my eyes closed. The moment the jacket rested on my body, it was like a heavy weight descended upon me, and I peeked at myself in the mirror. Combine the dress with the hair, and the jacket and the wings…

It didn’t look half bad. From the front, the wings looked natural, like they were real, almost. But damn, was it heavy. I couldn’t strut around on a stage wearing this. No. No way.

My lips curled into a frown, and I pushed out of the bathroom, so focused on how much I didn’t like the wings that I forgot I was also wearing a low-cut dress that showed off my boobs as well. “Tell me I look ridiculous.”

Deacon and Bishop stood side by side. Both appeared unbothered… until I walked out, and then their gazes snapped to me, fixating on me like I was on an invisible runway and all eyes had to be on me.

“You look…” Bishop trailed off, his eyes dipping low as he took in the dress beneath the jacket. His lips parted, but he said not a single word more.

Deacon’s scowl had vanished the moment I walked out, his grumpy exterior caving to something else—an expression that reminded me of the time I’d accidentally fallen asleep with him and woken up with him the next morning. The way he’d looked at me, heavy-lidded, full of desire when he caught me trying to crawl off him; I’d thought it was a one-off, something that had happened only because he was still half-asleep.

But there he was, those green eyes carrying that same look, evidently as speechless as Bishop.

Deacon mimicked what Bishop had said, “You look…” And he trailed off in just the same way. Neither he nor Bishop could take their eyes off me—off the dress beneath the jacket, more like. Neither spared a glance at the wings; it was like the dress was the only thing they saw.

“Um,” I fumbled while trying not to blush under their scrutiny, “you’re supposed to say how much you hate these heavy wings.” I thought about zipping up the jacket, but that would only make it obvious that I knew they were checking me out, and I didn’t want to call attention to it and make things weird.

Neither Bishop nor Deacon said a word about the wings, and I was seconds from saying more when I heard someone’s footsteps in the hall. My bedroom door was wide open, so I saw Priest walk by, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. My guess was he was heading to his room to shower, but when he saw us in my room, he backtracked and poked his head in.

“What’s going on?” He wore a smirk. “You having a threesome without me? I’m so disappointed in you—” Whatever witty, slightly inappropriate remark he had on his tongue, ready to be said after that, died the moment his gray eyes saw what I was wearing.

Priest dropped his bag beneath the archway of my door, and he strolled in. His blond hair was wet with sweat, and his face was still a little red from his workout. You could see the tips of the tattoos on his chest peeking out from the bottom neckline of his shirt. He came over to us, joining Bishop and Deacon.

“Holy fuck,” Priest murmured, looking me up and down, “what’s the occasion, Angel? That dress was made for you.” The way he said it called to mind that night when he’d pushed me against the side of a building and took my first kiss.

And my second, and my third… okay, he took a lot of them.

Before I had the chance to answer him, he noticed what the guys didn’t: “What’s with the stupid angel wings? They totally ruin the look.” He strolled over to me after pushing past the guys. His tall frame loomed over me, and with deft movements, he helped me out of the jacket and tossed it onto my bed, wings and all. “There, that’s much better.”

I swore, every single one of them was looking at me like they wanted to… well, do certain things to me. Push me to the bed, take off this dress, and have me in a way no guy ever had. I was slightly mortified, but also strangely self-assured.

“Ramona wants me to wear the wings on stage,” I said. I’d need to grow comfortable in my own skin; these guys wouldn’t be the only ones seeing me in this dress. I’d have to get used to the idea of guys looking at me like they wanted to…

Like they wanted to fuck me.

I was supposed to be the eye candy and the new sound. Why else would I be wearing a dress like this on stage?

“Fuck the wings,” Priest said, and the guys nodded in agreement. “You don’t need wings to be our angel.” He stood so close to me, his head angled down, and the way he gazed at me, a fire in those eyes, made me warm in certain places.

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