Page 19 of Discover Me
"Showing off again?" Rex moves to grab another guitar from a stand, this one sleek and black with silver hardware. "Let me show you how it's really done."
He launches into a complicated riff, his fingers flying across the frets. The sound fills the small space, raw and unfiltered without the venue's sound system. It's impressive and I watch with wide eyes even though I don't know enough about music to fully appreciate what he's doing.
I manage a smile, trying to feign interest as Rex finishes with a flourish, grinning at my expression. "Pretty sick, right?"
"Yeah," I push out, my voice coming out rough. "Really impressive."
Jordan pulls out a marker from somewhere, uncapping it with his teeth. "We should sign your cast! Can't send you home without proper autographs."
They crowd around me, taking turns signing the white plaster encasing my arm. Jordan's signature loops around, taking up way too much space. Liam's is smaller and neater, printed rather than cursive. Rex draws a small guitar next to his name with surprising artistic skill.
"How'd you break it?" Liam asks, capping the marker.
My throat tightens. "Fell off a roof at work."
"Shit, that sucks." Rex winces sympathetically. "Construction?"
"Yeah."
They don't recognize me, unable to connect the random fan in their backstage with the Beta who fell a month ago. Why would they? Kellan was the one who helped me, not them. They probably only heard about it secondhand, another news story in their busy lives.
The door opens again and everything stops. My heart stops, my breath stops, time itself freezing. Kellan steps inside and our eyes lock immediately.
I forgot how beautiful he was up close. The photos don't do him justice. His tattoos are more extensive than they appeared on stage, ink covering his arms and creeping up his neck, his piercings covering nearly every inch of his ears and littered along his brow and nose. But it's his eyes that hold me captive, dark and intense and widening with recognition.
We stare at each other for a long moment. His hand comes up to press against his chest in that same gesture I've seen him make repeatedly tonight. The gesture I've been making myself without thinking about it. The air between us feels charged with something I don't understand, that connection I’ve felt for the past few weeks strengthening until I can’t breathe.
No fucking way.
Tom breaks the moment, his voice cutting through the tension. "Kellan! There you are. Perfect timing."
Rex looks between us, his expression shifting from confused to shocked. "Wait. Aren't you that guy who fell from the..." He trails off. "Fuck."
Tom grabs my good arm, already steering me toward an attached office before anyone can say anything else. I look back over my shoulder, meeting Kellan's eyes one more time. His expression is blank, the muscles in his jaw working too hard, his hands fisted at his sides. I don’t know how to process this.
Mine.
I shake off that thought, sitting down one of the chairs just beside the main desk, Tom sitting across from me on the other side of the coffee table. He sets a hefty file onto the desk between us, the papers inside threatening to spill out.
"I thought we were definitely clocking an Omega," Tom purrs, a predatory tone to his words. "But this is perfect. You're perfect."
"What are you talking about?" My voice comes out wary as I glance at the closed office door and then the Alpha sitting in front of me.
Tom's grin widens. He pulls a single sheet from the file and slides it across the table toward me. "You see, we've been trying to update Kellan's image. He's our resident bad boy, always has been. But I think the heavens are watching over me tonight. The fans will love this story."
I stare at the paper. It's dense with legal language and paragraphs of text that blur together. "What is this?"
"An NDA. Non-disclosure agreement." Tom produces a pen from his pocket, setting it on top of the paper. "I need you to sign it. Anything said in this room can't leave this room. You can't post it, can't tell your friends, nothing. Standard procedure before I get into more of the nitty gritty details"
"Um..." I pick up the paper with my good hand, trying to read through the legal jargon. I understand maybe three words of it.
"This is customary," Tom says, his tone suggesting this should be obvious. "Everyone who comes backstage signs one. Protects the band's privacy and our business discussions."
I sign it. I don't know why I sign it. I don't know what possesses me to put my name on a legal document without reading it properly first. Maybe it's the way Tom watches me with those calculating eyes. Maybe it's the pain in my chest that's gotten worse since seeing Kellan. Maybe I'm just an idiot.
The second I finish signing, Tom launches into an explanation that makes my head spin. Lunar Ransom's new album is going to be all about love and life and packs. They need to update Kellan's image to match this new direction. The bad boy needs to show a softer side, needs to prove he's capable of connection and vulnerability.
"The analytics show that fans respond well to relationship narratives," Tom says, pulling more papers from the file. "Seeing their favorite artists in love, settling down, finding their person. It humanizes them and makes them more relatable."
