Page 94 of One Last Encore

"Okay, but they have the best birria tacos," Eden argued, eyes wide. "And you weren’t complaining when you were demolishing them," she added, crossing her arms.

"What was I supposed to do? Not eat one?" Ingrid shot back with an eye roll. She had to admit, that taco had been borderline life-changing.

The last few songs of The Defectors’ set pulsed through the room, the crowd moving in a chaotic, sweaty mass. Rodney, Beck’s brother, owned the stage like he was half frontman, halfhuman hurricane. His sweat-slicked hair clung to his forehead as he stalked the stage, the mic cord whipping around his arm.

"I know Rodney’s a complete fuckhole, but damn it, he’s good on stage," Eden shouted, bouncing along with the crowd like she hadn’t just insulted the guy.

Ingrid nodded, but a small knot of tension sat stubbornly in her chest. Beck had warned her about Rodney’s unpredictability, his struggles with addiction, the way he could implode mid-gig without warning. The final song burst into a crescendo of guitar and drums, the crowd roaring loud enough to rattle in Ingrid’s bones. As the band stepped back, soaking in the applause, people began trickling out into the crisp night air.

Ingrid and Eden lingered at the bar, nursing their drinks and waiting for Beck.

"I feel like a groupie," Ingrid muttered, half into her glass.

When he finally appeared, sweaty, flushed, still crackling with post-show energy, his eyes found her instantly.Her pulse skipped. He moved through the crowd like it didn’t exist, beelining straight for her.

Without a word, he wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her: hot, breathless, all adrenaline and relief. His lips tasted like sweat and whiskey, and though a small part of her wondered how much he’d had to drink, the rest of her didn’t care. After days apart, she needed this. Needed him.

Behind her, Eden snorted. "Hate to break it to you, babe, but you are a groupie."

A loud catcall rang out from the other side, and Ingrid stepped back from Beck.

"Eden, why don’t you ever greet me like that?" Finn called, hands on his hips.

Eden sauntered over, eyes locked on his. Just as he started leaning in like an idiot, she jabbed a finger straight into his ear. Finn let out a high-pitched, cartoonish shriek. Reef nearlydropped his drink from laughing, while Beck rubbed his temples like he was reconsidering all his life choices.

Eden just shrugged. "I show my love in different ways."

Eden had grown friendly with the guys over the years, late-night gigs, cramped after-parties, random run-ins at dive bars. There was an easy rhythm to it now.

Rodney, though? Different story. He hadn’t ever said a single word to her or Ingrid. Not even a nod. Which was rich, considering he once tried to sabotage her set at Battle of the Bands.

Ingrid pulled back slightly from Beck with a soft smile, her heart fluttering as she took in the sight of him. "Hi," she murmured, tracing the collar of his shirt with her fingers.

"Hi," Beck replied, voice low, gaze locked onto her like she was the only person in the room.

From nearby, Finn groaned dramatically. "I swear, if they get any cuter, I’m staging a public shaming. Tar, feathers, the whole medieval package."

"They’d still make it look like a Vogue spread," Reef said, deadpan. "Ingrid would be out there making peasant chic a thing."

"Feathers are trending," Ingrid said with a grin, curling closer into Beck’s arms. She felt his warmth at her back, the steady rise and fall of his chest under her hand.

But before Finn could fire back, a voice cut through.

"So, this is your little girlfriend?"

The sarcasm in Rodney’s voice was thick and sour, and the mood shifted instantly. The back of Ingrid’s neck prickled.

She turned slowly, schooling her expression into something neutral. Polite, but firm.

"Hi, I’m Ingrid," she said, extending a hand. A peace offering.

Rodney barely looked at it. "Rodney," he grunted, leaving her hand dangling in the space between them.

Her fingers curled back to her side, the air suddenly heavier, too dense to breathe properly. She could feel Beck’s tension humming just beneath her skin.

Eden, never one to leave silence unchallenged, jumped in. "And I’m Eden," she said, too cheerfully. "The one who won Battle of the Bands this year. Remember?" She tilted her head, smiling like she had nothing to lose.

Rodney didn’t flinch. His stare glazed past her like she wasn’t even there.

---