Page 24 of Resist

I watch them all walk away from me, my heart cracking.

I hear their pain, their pleas . . .

Can’t they feel my own agony?

I never wanted to ruin us, which is exactly why I pulled away. It seems I am doomed to fail either way.

TWELVE

Itug on my shirt, trying to cover more of my skin, but it’s no use.

The contract stipulates that we have a wardrobe department who chooses all of our clothes, and in this case, that means barely any. I wouldn’t usually mind, but there’s a crowd waiting for us outside. The interviewer is discussing the latest rock and pop news before we are announced. Every eye will be on us, and they want us to look perfect.

“Here.” Ryker steps before me, close enough that I can smell his expensive cologne, and tries to fix my shirt, or lack of one, for me. It’s more of a cape with sequins, draped across my shoulders and tied with a bow at my neck. Luckily, the black pants they gave me have a high waist. I’ll admit, it looks good, but I feel very exposed.

Ryker smiles at me shyly and brushes some strands of my purposely messy hair away. It’s supposed to look wet, whatever that means, but it keeps falling into my eyes and face and probably smudging all the hard work the makeup team did.

They aimed for light and dark. While I’m all in black, looking every inch a rock villain, Ryker is in all white.

His shirt is floral with pearls, and it’s tucked into white pants. His hair is pushed back, making him look like a model, and he’s barely wearing any eyeliner or makeup, mostly just a highlighter that glitters under the light, making him look ethereal. I can’t drag my eyes away from his glowing skin revealed by the sheer parts of the shirt. The fucking glitter on his lips drives me crazy, and I have the insane urge to lick it off to see what it would taste like.

“It’s smudged here.” Licking his thumb, he reaches up and brushes it under my eye. I pull back a little, and his smile drops as he steps away. “Sorry, I was just trying to help.”

I nod and avert my eyes. We haven’t spoken since this morning, and I don’t particularly want to. I’m still mad at him—not for reading my messages, but because of how he acted. He believed he had a right to be mad, like he doesn’t put his dick in every available hole, but the idea of me doing so pisses him off?

Dash and Strike join us. They wear a mix of white and black, blending us together. “You ready?” I ask them.

“As we will ever be.” Dash nods, looking between Ryker and me. I’m sure both of them can feel the tension, but I can’t seem to stop my simmering anger.

“Okay, one minute,” one of the headphones-wearing staff members calls as he appears before us. “When I signal you, walk out, wave at them, and take your seats, okay? Your manager has already handed over the list of questions.”

“Sure thing,” Strike answers with a wide grin as he tries to change the atmosphere. This is an important night for us, yet we all look like we would rather be anywhere else.

Is my mood really affecting the band that much?

Strike once told me Ryker is the heart of the band, but I’m the head, and what I feel affects them all. I’m starting to realize he’s probably right.

“Okay, thirty seconds. Big smiles,” the man instructs, and then he starts to count down

“Fox, I’m—” Ryker starts, drawing my gaze to his face just as the man points to us, letting us know it’s our turn on stage.

I walk past him, ignoring his words, but I swear I hear the end of his sentence float to me as I step out into the spotlight. “So sorry.”

I force a smile, waving and winking at the crowd as they shout for us. When Ryker appears, it becomes so loud, I can barely hear. Heading to the curved sofas, I sit next to Dash, and Strike takes the spot next to him, leaving the space next to me, nearest the crowd, for Ryker. When he sits, we laugh and wait for the crowd to calm down. When it does, the interviewer, Henley, fans himself.

“What an entrance, am I right?” The crowd cheers, and he nods. “I have the great honor of having the up-and-coming rock band Sanctuary joining me tonight. Are we excited?” The applause and shouts last for a while, and I smile tightly through it all.

It isn’t their fault. They are here to support us, and we wouldn’t be here without them. I remind myself of that over and over to change my mood, not wanting our fans to feel it.

“Alright, alright, before we get started, let’s get comfortable,” Henley says. “Strike, right? Drum king.”

Strike stands and bows as the crowd cheers.

“And then we have Dash, the bass wizard.” Dash waves and blows kisses as Henley looks at me.

“And of course, the sex symbol himself, Fox!” The crowd’s screams are so loud, I laugh as I stand, smirking and winking at them as they continue shouting. Even when I sit, my name is yelled, and we have to wait.

“And last but certainly not least, the silken singer, Ryker!” The crowd screams even louder as he gives them a little twirl anda wave before sitting. His hand lands on my thigh without him meaning to, and when I glance at it, he snatches it back with a guilty look.

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