Page 65 of One Day Like This (Excess All Areas 1)

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Aweek later, things werestilloff the hook.

Matt inhaled the energy of the crowd, the rarest of all highs. Somewhere between the creation of music so pure and all the chemicals in his veins, he felt superhuman.

Alive.

Energized.

He looked around the stage. Alex grinned at the crowd and Luke sweated like a beast behind his kit, keeping time despite the volume of alcohol he’d already thrown down his throat. Ben’s riffs were on fire as he played next to Jase, who was reaching his arm out over the crowd with his microphone while they screamed the chorus of “These Broken Pieces”.

And fuck, how he missed Izabel. He missed the feel of her in his arms, he missed the scent of her on his pillow, his missed the sound of her laughter and the way her back arched when he fucked her. Video chats that ended with graphically detailed mutual masturbation would do for now, but they were nowhere near close to the way she came around his cock or slept in his embrace.

But more than anything, he missed talking to her like they had the night of the dinner she’d cooked for him.

He wished she could see this, be a part of it, because if she could see or feel just a glimmer of what he did, she’d understand him. She’d understand why it was all worth it. He wanted her to want this side of him as much as the other. He wanted to share his dream of musical success with her. He wanted her to share her dreams with him because they could conquer anything together. She’d be his voice of reason. He’d encourage her to dream bigger. After all, he’d been visualizing playing venues like this since he was nineteen years old.

And now the band had caught fire.

Sure, Willow Warner making a video using their song had been the start. The last update he’d gotten, the video had been viewed two hundred and fifty million times. A quarter of a fucking billion.

But her followers had stuck around for their music. Everything had exploded. Streaming rate, downloads, video views, social media follows. They’d appeared on the BBC, on Radio One, on Capital FM. They’d been interviewed by music press, newspapers, and online media platforms.

He was gloriously fucking exhausted, but it wouldn’t stop him from following his own rules and leaving every ounce of blood, sweat, and tears on the stage tonight.

He walked over to Luke at his kit, a kit they’d upgraded. Hell, when they’d passed a quarter of a million in sales, they’d hired a small tour bus, which they needed for this unexpected tour. It was the only extra outlay they put down, because they needed a broader conversation on payout versus investment in the band before they splurged on anything else.

Indie rock band Stryker were currently riding the top of the charts, but their supporting act had been off the rails. The final straw had come when the lead singer hadn’t shown up to the gig after an all-day bender. And because there was obviously some part of the universe looking out for them, they’d been offered the gig. An exceptionally well-paid gig for the final eleven dates of Stryker’s national stadium tour. If they were lucky, they’d make six figures with the fee and all the merchandise they’d rush ordered and were now selling like hot cakes. And that was after expenses.

“It’s fucking insane,” Luke yelled from behind the kit as Matt climbed onto the platform with his guitar.

Matt shook his head in disbelief. “I know.”

Stryker had told them there had been some lingering dates that hadn’t sold out until the Sad Fridays had been added to the lineup. In the days since the announcement, the tickets had been snapped up. And here they were, an opening act, playing to a sold-out crowd.

In a big arena. And Cardiff had given them a royal Welsh welcome.

He glanced over to the side of the stage where Chaya was dancing and watching Ben. Matt wished it was as easy as calling Izabel and telling her to get on the train and come to him. She was the missing piece in his happiness puzzle, the one person who made everything else fall into place. Because despite finding success in the faces of the packed arena, he was still unsettled.

Matt jumped off the drum platform, walked to the edge of the stage, and strummed the last few notes of their final song. It never got old, looking out at a full arena. The energy of it crawled beneath his skin.

He raised his hand in thanks and followed Ben off the stage.

“You were amazing as always,” Chaya said, throwing her hands around Ben’s neck in a purely platonic gesture.

Ben put his hands around her waist and carried her, her legs dangling, as he walked off the stage.

“You ever wonder if those two will get together?” Luke asked, pointing the neck of the beer bottle in his hand in Ben and Chaya’s direction, his words a little slurred. His footsteps unsteady.

“If it was going to happen, you think it would have by now? Plus, her dad isn’t going to let her marry Ben.”

Luke shook his head. “Can’t imagine what that feels like.” He took two towels from a stack at the side of the stage and handed one to Matt, who wiped his face and dropped the towel around his neck.

The difference with this show was Stryker’s road crew were helping them with their equipment. Given they’d joined the tour so quickly, they’d not had time to find a crew of their own.

“I’m feeling kinda shitty I won’t be around for Izabel’s birthday tomorrow. Think I’m going to invite her to the Liverpool gigs. Do you think Jase will be a dick about it? I don’t want Izabel feeling shitty on her birthday. She deserves to be here.”

Matt’s stomach tripped at the idea of seeing her. He calmed himself before he spoke and tried not to let his excitement at the idea bubble over. “Jase has been on a bit more of an even keel since all this took off. I think a bit of financial stability is good for all of us. I can try and have a word if you like. Or maybe Alex would be better. He seems to get through to Jase when I can’t.”

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