Page 34 of Resist

We did, but as he moves away, taking his warmth with him, I wonder if we will still be here in a year, or five or ten, or if it will break us all apart.

SEVENTEEN

We ride the high from performing as we head off stage. I leap at my bandmates, and they catch me as we laugh and hug. “Did you see that?”

“They knew our songs!”

We talk at the same time, and when we calm down, we are all grinning.

“We really did it,” I murmur.

“We did.” Strike drags Fox down and kisses him square on the mouth. “Now let’s celebrate!”

“The box is this way,” a staff member interrupts. “We will escort you.”

I glare at Strike, but he’s oblivious as we are led into the VIP area so we can watch Dead Ringers perform. I can sense cameras on us, people noticing and spreading the word, so I point at the stage and put my finger to my lips. This is their time, not ours.

The area is pretty small, but we have an amazing view of the stage, and I can’t look away from them. Beck Danvers might be new, but she works that stage like an experienced singer, and the others help her, looking as happy as we feel.

When it changes to an upbeat song, Strike grabs Dash and begins to dance him around. I look at Fox, and he looks at me before he grabs me and copies them.

I can’t help but laugh as he spins me around as Dash and Strike do the same. The crowd is busy singing along with Beck Danvers, so even though we are surrounded by people, it feels private. His smile is aimed at me as if he has forgotten about everything else for the moment.

It leaves me breathless.

Lost in a sea of fans, I lean back into him, our movements becoming slow until we dance leisurely to the beat.

My head falls back to his shoulder as he wraps his arm around my waist and just holds me. For a stolen minute, everything is normal. We are back to the way we were meant to be. Everything is good, and I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time.

I feel . . . complete in his arms. I feel like I’m supposed to be here.

All too quickly, it ends as the set finishes, and he lets go. I feel so cold and empty after I watch him leave, following our guards, and I debate reaching for him.

What if he pushes me away?

What if it meant nothing to him?

I follow him, my heart in pieces, feeling more confused than ever.

The green room is abuzz, everyone riding the high of the first night. Drinks are flowing and everyone is dancing, having a good time. I sit at the back, lost in my own thoughts as I nurse a beer.I don’t want to get drunk, and I throw anyone who gets too close afuck offlook, even the groupies.

I could take one and lose myself in their body, but I don’t want to. He is all I can think about. I thought he felt the same way about me, but it looks like he’s given up as he flirts and lets the groupies hang all over him.

He was mine, and I was so fucking stupid and dumb, I pushed him away.

Are Dash and Strike right? Have I lost him?

The idea terrifies me, and before long, I call it a night. They return to the bus a few hours later, and I pretend to be asleep. As their snores fill the air, I stare up at the top bunk where Dash is. Fox lies just feet away, and my head turns. He’s on his back with his arm under his head, his eyes closed.

He’s so close, yet so far away.

Even from here, I can see lipstick marks all over his face and neck. Where else are they? Did he hook up with someone? It kills me, and it’s selfish, but I crawl from my bunk and into his, throwing his blanket over me and pressing my face into his neck.

I’m the only one who should stain his skin.

I’m the only one he should smell of.

He lifts his arm and opens his eyes as he turns to me, and for a moment, my heart soars. We are finding our way back to each other—first on stage and then dancing. He’s coming back to me.

---