Page 38 of Tyler
As he finally turns around and stomps to his spot on the stage, the crowd going berserk the moment he appears, Jace elbows me.
“What wasthatall about?” He has to raise his voice to be heard over the roar of the stadium.
I let out a sigh. “Nothing much.” I take my earpiece out when Jodie points to it and she thrusts a fresh shirt in Jace’s arms before she takes the piece and scurries away.
“Didn’t look like nothing to me,” Jace says after he threw the shirt on, leaning in so I can hear him better. “Did he say something obnoxious to you? He tends to do that.”
I press my lips together for a moment and shake my head. “Not to me directly, but, you know.” I gesture to where Jodie disappeared with the gear. “I think he forgot the whole damn crew could hear him when he started spewing shit over the channel.”
Jace, honest to God, snorts. “Trust me, he didn’t. He just really doesn’t give a damn. What did he say?”
I hesitate. I don’t want to sound like a jealous boyfriend—which I’m not—but I also don’t want to hide anything. Before I can speak, he rubs my waist, his fingers warm and reassuring, and steps in even closer.
“He said something vile about me. Am I right?”
I nod. I open my mouth to explain, but that’s when the entire stadium lights up and Six of Hearts launches into the first song of their set.
I’m gobsmacked. I freeze, turn around to the band, eyes wide, hand tightening on Jace’s where it rests on my stomach. My jaw drops at the sound coming from the stage.
I mean… I really,really, dislike the guy, but fuckingfuckme, it’s still Six of Hearts. It’s still one of the greatest motherfucking bands from our generation. Growing up, me and my brothers were batshitobsessedwith them—blasting their albums nonstop, bouncing on the couches while roaring along at the top of our lungs—much to my Mom’s dismay.
And now? I can’t fucking believe I’m here. Backstage. Watching them live. In our teenage years, we tried to go to aconcert a couple of times, but work at the diner or our busy football schedules always collided with the tour dates.
Involuntarily—because he reallyisan ass—I start murmuring along with the songs, tapping my feet to the rhythm. It doesn’t take long before I really get into it, singing louder, adrenaline pumping and dancing along.
My Jace dutifully follows my lead, even though he must be exhausted from the set he just performed, stuck to my back and swinging his hips to mine, his head on my shoulder, mumbling along with the lyrics, not butchering up the songs like I do.
I don’t even know how much time passes before he gently starts to tug on my shirt.
Still in a daze, I turn my head slowly toward my boyfriend, a grin plastered across my face. He’s grinning too—spark alive in his expressive gray eyes, love practically pouring out of him. I missed that look so damn much it just fuckinghurts.
My fingers clutch at my chest, rubbing over my heart.
He notices it, gently lays his hand over mine and squeezes, pressing his forehead to mine before an inaudible sigh leaves his lips. He presses a swift kiss to my lips before tilting his head toward the hallway that leads back to the dressing rooms.
The hand that covered mine slips down to lace our fingers, and he tugs me along. We walk past the first few dressing rooms—those reserved for the individual members of Six of Hearts—and then he pushes me inside the small room Encore is using, the one they’re all sharing.
They’re still the opening act, so that’ll have to do. But my brows lift when I notice the space is a lot cleaner than before. All the makeup and clothes that were strewn around earlier, right before the show, are mostly gone.
Not everything, but the most of it, yeah.
Before I can take it in—or ask Jace where the hell all his stuff went so fast—he pushes me against the door and thrustshis tongue in my mouth. A groan escapes me, and my hands immediately find his jeans-covered ass.
“Jacie,” I murmur between kisses as Jace’s fingers dive in without hesitation, popping open the button on my pants. “You have to get back on stage in a bit, right? They want you to do the encore with Mick again?”
“Fuck him.” He bites my bottom lip and licks the tender spot before finding my gaze. “We have a couple of minutes to spare.” He trails a path of kisses along my cheek and neck before continuing. “Plus, you looked mighty fine dancing to their music like that, rubbing that sexy ass against me.”
A low chuckle escapes my throat, quickly followed by a groan as he starts to suck on my earlobe—his fingers now firmly on his prize as they wrap around my dick.
“You liked that, yeah? Me dancing?”
Dancing isn't really my forte. Usually, at parties or gatherings, I’m the guy in the corner, talking with my friends, goofing off while everyone else parties it up. I like it like that—on the sidelines.
But ever since Jace popped up in my life, he’s been pulling me out of that comfort zone. Making me dance. Making me have fun. And I have to say, I’m notnotliking it.
I like how he moves on the dance floor.
I like how his features brighten whenever I join him.
