Page 54 of Out of the Blue

I straighten his outer shirt. “Like a well-fucked man.” He wiggles his eyebrows, causing me to tap his chest. “Be good.”

Trent kisses me like it’s our first time. “I’m always good. Don’t forget that.”

I trace his eyebrow. Even they’re sexy on him. “Hmmm. We’ll see. Are you ready?”

He nods. I grab my laptop and stop to glance in the mirror and ensure I’m presentable. I’m pretty sure the high color in my cheeks can’t be misconstrued. I shrug. My life’s taken a pretty fantastic turn.

Together, we saunter down to the lobby and meet up with the rest of the band. The tour bus picks us up and brings us all to the New Hampshire Pavilion, where we go backstage. While TLR warms up for the concert, I check their social media.

Raine, returned this morning from the Apex meeting, comes up behind me. “They’re doing great.”

I glance up. “They really are.” I share some of the positive press from the concert the other day.

“This is great. I’ve been on Hunte’s tour from the beginning, and I worked with California Skies. Honestly, they’re pretty well matched in terms of talent, but TLR has a special something that lights up a crowd. I really hope they win the competition. And what you’re doing plays a big part.”

My hand twirls the end of my hair while a satisfied smile plays around my lips. “No pressure there.”

He chuckles. “Oh, I’ve been watching you, too. You’re killing it.”

I have been kicking ass, but I don’t know what to do with Raine’s praise, so I point to the article Trent told me about earlier. The one that calls him a young Braxton Hunte. If only they knew.

“Yeah, saw it. Have to say I pretty much agree.”

I’m mulling over his last comment when the band finishes their warm-up and Trent reminds them about his aunt and her family being at the concert. “So, let’s give them a great show.”

Dwight talks with him for a while, and I go back to my own pre-gig ritual. Once I’ve liked and shared everything, I grab my new camera to snap some shots before they go onstage. Hopefully, some of the photos will be good for posting.

Joey and Maurice ham it up, like usual, and I capture their antics. I’m sure their fans will love these. Dwight joins us, drumsticks in hand, and wails on Maurice’s back. I scan the room for Trent, but he’s nowhere to be found.

Leaving the band’s antics, I search for my boyfriend.I do like the sound of that.

Where can he be? My eyes stray to the bathroom, and my body hums to life remembering our first encounter. Which was supposed to have been our last. I reach the door and knock.

“Yeah?”

Trent’s voice sounds strained. Shit. He’s probably fighting another bout of stage fright. With one eye focused on the people gathered across the room, I whisper, “It’s me. Cordelia.”

The door opens and I enter. He’s holding up the grey tiled wall, eyes downcast. His breathing is shallow and rapid. Yup. He’s in the middle of one of the worst panic attacks I’ve ever seen, which needs to end pretty damn quickly if he’s going to get onstage. With his aunt and her family in the audience.

A light bulb flashes over my head. Their presence is probably what’s causing such a severe reaction. Inhaling, I tiptoe to him.

Placing my hand on his bicep, I say, “Hey. Everyone in the audience is excited to hear your music, some for the very first time.”

He doesn’t say anything. His chin tips in a slight incline.

“Do you remember the first exercise we did together before you went onstage in Connecticut?” I stop myself from saying Hunte, or anything else that might further upset him.

He doesn’t move.

Oh boy. He can’t even force his brain to function in the most basic way. My heart bleeds for him. “It’s okay. Why don’t you close your eyes and take a very deep breath? Now, inhale.”

His hazel eyes disappear beneath his eyelids and his chest expands, thank fuck. Even though he can’t verbalize anything right yet, at least he still can follow directions.

“And let it all out.”

His body relaxes.

“Again.” I lead him in these deep breathing exercises three times before switching it up. “This time, when you inhale, I want you to hum. Not a song or anything, just a note. Can you do that for me?”

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