Page 47 of Wild and Bright

My stomach jolts when I think of what I have planned for him later. If I do everything right, he’s really going to want to spank me after the party.

“I’m sure.”

Camden

Applause erupts as I lift my guitar, yet somehow my ears are drawn to the voice to my right. It floats through my insides, filling me with warmth.

I can’t believe she’s actually standing backstage. I’ve thought about her so many times when we’ve performed over the years.

I’ve imagined her there.

“Spank me, Camden Hayes!” she shouts.

I purse my lips to fight a smile.

“Choke me, Camden Hayes!”

I gulp back a laugh.

“Lauren, stop.” It’s Jeff’s firm voice, and it draws my eyes to the right. He’s holding her arm. “He doesn’t like distractions. We have a room with a couch where you can watch them on the big screen. Come on—”

“Stop!”

Both Lauren and Jeff jump at my shout.

“Let her stay.”

Jeff glances at Lauren and then back at me. He’s looking at me like I’ve grown another head, and even without seeing their faces, I sense Hunter and Janie’s surprise.

“Are you sure?” Jeff asks.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

This is the first time I’ve ever let anyone other than my last girlfriend stand backstage and watch us play, and that was years ago, at a much smaller venue than this. Not wanting to reflect on that further, I walk forward and speak into the mic. “How you doing, Portland?”

Applause breaks out. It never seems to matter that I’m stilted and unsmiling on stage. “I don’t know why any of you live here,” I say. “I haven’t seen the sun in twenty-four hours. I’m not going to lie, I kind of hate all of you for buying tickets and making me come here.”

Unsurprisingly, the crowd cheers again, even louder this time. My grumpiness is well-known now after four years of touring. Our fans expect it.

“He’s had a bad day,” Hunter says into his mic. “Plus, he’s just an asshole.”

Distantly, I hear a rumbling mixture of cheers and laughter, but my attention is drawn to Hunter. His face is soft and smiling, which doesn’t match the venom in his tone.

This is our thing. Something we do at almost every show. I say asshole things, and Hunter makes fun of me for it. Janie sometimes jumps in with her stern voice and tells us to stop fighting like children. It’s become part of our performance now, which would make me cringe for its inauthenticity if I gave it too much thought.

But something is different this time.

My eyes roam Hunter’s face. His expression gives nothing away, but I know I heard it. He’s angry. It’s the same anger that’s kept him silent whenever we’re in the same room, but every once in a while, it bubbles to the surface.

I take a deep breath and try to let the thoughts float away when I exhale. It’s not good to be in my head during a show. Surprisingly, it doesn’t take a lot of effort to get out of it, not when I remember the dark-haired girl standing not too far away. Her presence has its usual effect, making me feel like I’m floating in warm tropical water. Before I know it, my mind is quiet, my fingers gliding over the strings, and words are flowing out of my mouth as if of their own volition.

Why is this heaven when giving into it would make me weak of will and sick at heart?

THIRTEEN

Lauren

“I was really hoping we would have a driver,” I say quietly as I turn to the passenger window. Misty rain sputters over the glass, making the image of Portland streets opaque and muddled.

---