Page 85 of Starstruck
I grin at her, pressing another gentle kiss against her lips, as a realization stabs me in the chest.
Colt was right. I’m in love with Lennon. And if I don’t figure out a way to tell her soon, I’m going to lose her.
For good.
[36 ]
SINKING LIKE A STONE
LENNON
“MIND OVER MATTER” BY YOUNG THE GIANT
It’s the final show of Baxter’s No Promises tour, and as I promised last week, I’m sitting in his dressing room listening to the hum of Colt’s guitar and the echo of Baxter’s voice onstage.
I got here just as the show was beginning. Baxter knew I’d be late because I had to wait on a merchandise delivery for the concert, so I ended up having to take a later flight. Baxter’s driver picked me up from the airport and took me to the hotel so I could drop my things off and change before bringing me here. Kevin was waiting for me when I arrived backstage and led me to the dressing room, where I’ve been sitting for the past fifteen minutes.
I really should get out there—watch him from the side of the stage. But my head has been a mess since I landed. For whatever reason, I’ve been a ball of anxiety since last weekend when Baxter invited me to the show, and I can’t quite pinpoint why.
Maybe because this is the first show of his I’ve ever been to.
Maybe because I haven’t been able to get my mind off the way he kissed me last weekend, and I’m worried he won’t do it againtonight.
Maybe because this is starting to feel less and less like a friends with benefits arrangement and more and more real with every moment we spend together.
Something about this last week has changed things for us. The lines are becoming more blurred. After that kiss, I can’t tell which way is up and which way is down. My heart and my head can’t tell what’s real anymore, and it’s terrifying.
Because Baxter James is not the type of man to settle down. There’s no reason why that would change for me. And what’s worse is that I knew this would happen, so the only person I can blame is myself.
I take a few more minutes, giving myself time to breathe before I see him in his element and inevitably fall even deeper into this whole thing.
Allowing my eyes to wander around his dressing room, I catch sight of the bowl of assorted sour candies Baxter can’t go onstage without, as well as two packs of Marlboro Blacks and a red lighter lying on the table by the door.
I make my way to the table and pop a candy in my mouth as I pull out a cigarette. Placing the filtered end between my lips, I hold the lighter to the tip and inhale, letting the smoke that burns my throat billow around me as I stare at my reflection in the mirror.
My eyes are shaded dark with black liner framing them. My hair is styled in messy waves that I fluff with my fingers. After I put out the cigarette in the ashtray on the vanity, I touch up my dark-red lipstick. Then with a sharp exhale, I turn and head toward the door.
The decibel level increases tenfold as I swing it open. I smile to myself as I make my way to the side of the stage where I can see the guys, taking in everything happening backstage as I walk. This is nowhere near my first time being backstage at a concert, but the energy of the crew and watching the groupies fawn over the performers never gets old.
The crowd is electric when I catch sight of Baxter under a spotlight, a dark-red guitar in hand and his lips pressed to the microphone. Colt is to his right holding his own purple guitar, playing in perfect rhythm while Levi sits at the drums at the back of the stage, completely lost in the music.
Baxter scans the crowd until, like a moth to a flame, his eyes land on me. A small look of shock crosses his face before it morphs into pure joy. I hold his gaze as I smile at him, completely blown away by the talent of the man in front of me. He holds my eyes for a moment as he sings, his focus on me not once pulling him from the song.
I wasn’t lying to him all those months ago when I said I’d never gone out of my way to listen to his music. But after he practically begged me to start that night, I did. If I didn’t know it already, it’s clear Baxter is talented as hell. His singles are still my least favourite songs of his, and for good reason. He has so much range, and the songs that become singles all sound somewhat the same—which makes sense, I suppose. But it really showed me how much I was missing out on.
One song morphs into the next, the crowd cheering for each one. He puts on a fantastic show—like he was made to be onstage. I’ve never seen anyone look so at ease while performing. He’s the embodiment of someone who loves what he does, and watching him now tells me just how right I was in getting him to headline the benefit, no matter how much I hated the idea at first.
His eyes find me every so often, and the butterflies in my stomach flutter every time. Somehow, even in a crowd full of people, he’s drawn to me the way I am him.
It’s exhilarating. And terrifying. Because we’re temporary, and with each day that passes, I get more hung up on him, even knowing he could never truly feel the same.
I’m pulled from my thoughts when I feel eyes on me that aren’t coming from the stage. Glancing around, I catch sight of a woman who looks about my age standing a few people away, her eyesglued to me. She’s got short, curly, blonde hair and mesmerizing eyes, though I can’t tell what colour they are in the darkness of the stadium.
She looks familiar, but I can’t quite place her.
I smile and make my way over to where she’s standing. As she notices me walking in her direction, she tears her gaze from me, embarrassed that she’s been caught.
“Hi,” I yell over the music, holding out my hand. “I’m Lennon.”
