Page 7 of Hymns of the Broken
“I’ve got work to do.”I say, as I walk off quickly. The hallway stretches ahead, with dim lights and the faint vibration under my boots from the music ahead.
I hear footsteps and I don’t have to look back to know it’s him. Following behind me like it’s his right, like I’ve already been claimed.”
Even though every instinct urges me to quicken my pace, I choose not to. I let him follow and I let him believe that I’m unaware of his presence. I’m curious to see how long he will continue doing this, and how far he will go.
I slip through the side entrance to the pit, swallowed by just enough shadow to pretend I don’t feel his stare drilling into the back of my neck.
I lift my camera, forcing myself to look professional and unbothered. The lens focuses, the shutter clicks, and my hands tremble against the grip.
Behind me, I can hear a faint, slow exhale, resonating in the air between us.
I don’t turn around. I force my breathing to steady, trying to calm racing heart.
Because he’s watching me.
Men like him don’t watch unless they plan to take, and I am not planning on being taken by him.
The crowd roars at something on stage, but it feels distant—muffled by the hum in my blood. I’m still firing off shots when his voice cuts through the noise.
“Your hands are shaking.”
I lower the camera just enough to glance at him over my shoulder, my expression calm, unaffected. “You following me to point out my flaws, or is this just your version of flirting?” I raise an eyebrow, maintaining my composure despite the tension hanging in the air.
“Depends. Is it working?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
He says nothing else when I don’t reply. We let that word hang in the air, and then silence returns—louder than the crowd—pressing against my spine until I have to lift the camera again to keep from revealing how much that one word affected me.
Chapter 2
SAWYER
“I’m telling you it was nothing!”
Macee gives me the look—the one that says‘Liar, liar, black lace on fire’.
We’re tucked behind a barricade near the crew entrance, catching our breath while the next band sets up. She’s nursing a bottle of water like it’s holy.
“Righttt,” she says, dragging the word out like it’s heavy. “You’re really going to pretend that Jasper freaking Reign wasn’t eye-fucking you from center stage?”
“I’m gonna pretend I imagined it.”
“Yeah?” She nudges me with her elbow. “Then explain how he just wandered over to the bar and started talking to you.”
I glare at her over my bottle of water. “He didn’t wander…he slithered.”
“Slithered straight to you,” she sings under her breath, smug as hell.
I groan. “Jesus, Macee.”
“I’m just saying,” she shrugs. “You rarely go quiet unless something gets under your skin. And you’ve been jumpy ever since he looked at you like you were his favorite sin.”
I roll my eyes. “He looks at everything like it owes him an orgasm.”
“Yeah, well…he was looking at you. And you didn’t look away.” She pauses. “That’s new.”
