Page 67 of Love Notes and Late Nights
“No one will ever replace you either. Just because we’re in committed relationships now doesn’t mean we don’t need each other, or that we won’t be there for each other at a moment’s notice. I still need you.”
“You’re right. I still need you too.” Ethan sighed again. “I guess we’re just a pair of co-dependent fools.”
Wolf grunted a laugh. “Disfunction at its finest.” He wrapped his arms around Ethan and gave his best friend a tight hug which was returned twofold. “Love you, bruh.”
“Love you too.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Wolf didn’t think anything could compare to the high of being in love, but standing on stage in front of the massive crowd at Rocktoberfest was a close second. The sunshine covered the crowd with a brilliant hue from low in the horizon, bringing life to the faces in front of him. People sang along with the lyrics. Girls sat on their boyfriend’s shoulders. Fists pumped in the air. A mosh pit made a whirlpool a few yards in front of the stage. A fistfight started off to the side, and security promptly pulled the two apart. Crowd surfers tumbled forward and landed in the small area in front of the railing, only to do it all over again.
Watching the action in front of him was like a shot of adrenaline to the heart. Wolf couldn’t stand still. He bounced across the apron, slid to his knees in front of the crowd, causing the fans to scream and lurch forward, and he leaned back on his heels while he pounded out notes. The deep rumble of the bass reverberated in his veins like a lifeline.
The boom of Harris’ bass drum rivaled the grungy thump of Wolf’s bassline, and he jumped up and turned toward the man he loved. They made eye contact for a brief second and shared a connection that transcended the music, the stage, and the fans. The amount of emotion that passed between them in a single moment, when so much was happening around them, solidified their bond.
Harris pounded on his drum kit, blond hair flying around him and extra wavy thanks to some magic Tyler performed in his mobile salon. Harris’ arms were pumped with muscle from exertion. His bare chest glistened in the desert heat. His sun-kissed complexion and deep tan amplified the blue of his eyes. This man looked like a Greek god, and Wolf couldn’t contain himself any longer.
Wolf jumped onto the drum riser and plucked his bass while punctuating the rich timber with the jut of his hips in Harris’ direction. Harris did a double take, and the smile that lit up his face made Wolf’s heart quicken and fed his soul. Love poured out of him in a rush that made him play harder and move his body to the low baritone emanating from his bass guitar.
Harris slowed his drumming to a soft beat on his snare, Marshall played a steady riff, and Ethan stopped singing, so the sultry sound of the bass guitar dominated the air. Even the crowd had quieted significantly.
Harris suddenly came alive with a loud round on his toms and kicks to his floor drum, overshadowing the sound of the bass. He looked directly at Wolf, still pounding away on his kit, raised his brows and gave Wolf an exaggerated open-mouthed smile.
Wolf grinned back. All right. If Harris wanted a little playoff, he better be ready because Wolf was all in. He leaned back, farther than seemed physically possible, and played up to the sky, while Harris’ drums quieted to let Wolf shine. The raw, weighted notes exploded into the open air, thundering on the desert breeze. When he stopped playing, he gave a little bow to the audience. They screamed and cheered. Even his bandmates were clapping, except Harris, who acted totally unimpressed with a smirk on his lips and an eye roll.
Wolf extended his hand to Harris as if to say, “Let’s see whatcha got.”
Harris went completely off the rails and hit every single drum and cymbal on his kit like a fucking lunatic. A stick broke and the piece flew several feet in the air from sheer velocity. Harris tossed the remnant in his hand and grabbed another stick while his other hand made double time on the snare and high tom.Harris stood, kicked the stool out from underneath him, which skidded off the drum riser and crashed to the floor of the stage, and continued with the lethal assault on his kit.
Wolf was blown away and stood there totally riveted. He loved watching this man’s talent. He loved the way Harris’ muscles flexed as his arms pounded out a beat. He loved the way the loose-fitting jeans hung off Harris’ hips. He loved everything about this man. So. Fucking. Much.
Harris finished his display of showmanship by throwing his sticks across the stage and into the crowd and stood there with his hands on his hips, panting, heaving heavy breaths that made his chest rise and fall adding definition to the glowing tanned flesh over his upper body. As the crowd screamed, Harris extended his hand toward Wolf expecting a rebuttal.
Wolf didn’t want a showdown. He wanted this man, and he wanted everyone to know it. He didn’t give a shit about the fallout. Let the PR backlash begin. He grabbed Harris’ face in his hands and pulled him in for a hard kiss. Their mouths crashed together with all the passion in the world. Everything that had been building inside of them—the sneaking around, the waiting, the anticipation, the high of their newly admission that they loved each other, the energy of the show—it all came pouring out in that one kiss that seemed to last forever.
“I hope you don’t mind a break in the music for this little lovefest,” Ethan said over the mic. “I predict they’re gonna be couple of the year!”
Wolf, who still remained in a lip lock with Harris, realized the crowd was going ballistic.
Marshall began playing the theme to the children’s limerick, “Sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” How he knew that off the top of his head was a mystery, but it was perfect, and Wolf smiled under the kiss.
“Do you think Ruby is gonna have a meltdown?” Harris asked when they finally broke the kiss.
“I don’t give a fuck if she does.” Ruby may have had a different plan, like only teasing the crowd with on-stage kisses and antics to keep the crowd guessing, but Wolf didn’t want to play games. He wanted everyone to know that his heart belonged to Harris and that this man was his. “I love you, and I want the world to know it.” With that statement, he kissed Harris again, long and deep, while the entire crowd cheered so loud, their screams could probably be heard all the way to Las Vegas.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
One year later
Wolf stared at the sealed envelope in his hands and dropped it on the table. It had taken him over two months to write the five-page letter that he’d never mail. He rewrote it three times and finally decided it contained everything he always wanted to say but never did.
“What’s that?” Harris asked, joining Wolf and placing two cups of coffee on the table.
Harris had officially moved in a month after the tour ended, although he still maintained his home in Malibu. They used the beachfront home as a weekend getaway; this way they had the best of both worlds—the mountains and the beach.
“Is that the letter?” Harris asked, when Wolf didn’t answer right away.
“Yeah.” Wolf picked it up and looked at his childhood address on the front of the envelope. He had no idea where his parents had relocated, but the old address seemed fitting. “I finally finished it.”
