Page 82 of Little Monster
It almost feels like we’re the only two people in this entire stadium... even as seventy thousand people roar in the darkness.
Now my solo is coming up.
But instead of wanting to disappear backstage, I step forward.
Ishred.
My notes blast through the speakers, and I close my eyes, feeling the heat and the intensity of the crowd as my fingers tear across the strings.
The audience sings along with Dex as he rips on his guitar, screams for me, forus.
And when the song ends, right there onstage in front of everyone, Dex grabs me around the waist, pulls me in, and crushes his lips to mine. I can taste the salt on his lips, relish the press of his metal against my mouth.
“You’re stunning,” he says against my lips. Quickly turning to the crowd, he lifts the mic and asks, “Isn’t she a fuckin’monster, Cali?”
They respond with an emphaticfuck yes.
Dex looks at me, eyes bright blue and shimmering, and mouths, “I love you, Monster.”
I’ll be his monster.
I’ll be his everything.
epilogue
Six Months Later
WHEN DEX TOLD ME HE’D never seen snow, I knew I had to take him home for Christmas. I’m on a short holiday from the orchestra, and since LGC finished their tour in September, nothing has been the same.
I threw caution to the wind and sold my condo. I couldn’t bear being separated from Dex, hated the feeling of waking up without him in my bed.
So Margot and I moved in with him in October, and now it’s common for me to come downstairs in the morning to find her sitting on the gleaming marble countertop, rubbing her face against his stubbled chin while he drinks his first cup of coffee. She adores the space, enjoys looking out the massive sliding glass doors at all the birds that perch in the trees. Dex is her new favorite person. And I couldn’t be happier about that.
It’s the morning of Christmas Eve, and Denver blessed us with an overnight snow. It’s the type of snow that’s light and fluffy, the Hallmark version of a Colorado winter. Dex was like a kid on Christmas morning seeing it, and his eyes are still twinkling with wonder as we meander slowly around the big frozen lake, hot cups of cocoa in hand.
He’s wearing a gray beanie that turns his eyes an even brighter shade of blue, and though I’m pretty sure a few people have recognized him—including the barista at the coffee shop—no one has bothered us. It’s different here compared to LA, slower, calmer. And there’s no paparazzi following us or yelling obscene things in an effort to get us to react.
There’s just the cold air, the glimmer of snow in the bright morning sunlight, and Dex’s body next to mine.
“So, this is where you used to walk when you were younger?” he asks, shifting his gaze to look out over the frozen lake.
I nod. “Yeah. I came here a lot just to be by myself. It’s good for that.”
As we walk, I point things out to him: the table where I used to scribble moody poetry before I realized I hated poetry, the place where the boy I liked in ninth grade asked me to the homecoming dance. He laughs at that, not unkindly, and turns his head to smile down at me.
“I bet you were a heartbreaker in high school,” he says, his lips curling into that mischievous little smirk that could probably get me to rob a bank.
I scoff. “Hardly.”
Dex pulls me closer. “You don’t know your own power. I mean, look at me.” He holds an arm out, gesturing to himself. “I was destined to be a lone wolf, but you locked me down.”
I roll my eyes. “Alone wolf? You are an absolute dork.”
He laughs, his breath steaming in the cold air. “Let’s walk down here, by the water.”
After tossing his empty cocoa cup into a recycle bin, he tugs me off the walking path onto a side trail, a little winding dirt walkway that leads to the lakeside. We’ve both got boots on, and the snow crunches softly as we walk through the pristine white blanket.
Down by the ice, we’re far enough from the path that no passersby can see us. It’s cold, and the morning sunlight makes the frozen lake gleam.
