Page 14 of Give Me What I Want

This was fake.

We were putting on a show, so I smiled, and when he pulled away, I nuzzled my head into his bicep, glancing up at him and hoping that I was giving enough to satisfy everyone looking our way.

Cole led us off stage when Mav was done talking, and we huddled behind a curtain for a couple of minutes. It was already decided that we’d play “In Limbo” again tonight—we’d encore with it most nights of our tour—so Kelly was already hanging by the curtain with Mav’s acoustic, ready to switch and send us back onto the stage. She gave him a stern look when he opened his mouth, and I gave her one back. Kelly and Mav clashed more often than they got along, mostly because he was a picky prick, and Kelly didn’t like that. Kelly was a damn good roadie, my favourite, but she wasn’t a perfectionist. Mav was. So he’d complain that his guitar wasn’t currently strung with the set of strings he favoured, and she’d tell him to take a long walk off of a short pier. It was a predictable showdown, and five shows in I was bored of it already. So I glared, and Kelly backed off, walking away with a huff before Maverick could begin to complain.

“I know,” I said, cutting him off before he could rant to us. “But it’s not the end of the world, it’s only one song, oh, and we’re on.” I shoved him and followed him onto the stage, Ronan stomping along beside me, Jordan and Cole behind.

“Tonight, could you try to—”

Ronan tried to speak to me, but I picked up my pace, re-adjusting my earpiece and ignoring him. The guy was confusing me, and the closer we got to finally ending this show, the louder my thoughts became. Thoughts that questioned everything I thought I knew. Thoughts that wanted answers, answers to questions that I didn’t want to ask out loud. And most of all, I wanted to know why the fuck I was so desperate to feel his lips on mine again.

I perched on the stool set out for me, and Mav sat opposite. There was a mic stand lowered to the perfect height for me to use while sitting, but I didn’t need it. Instead, I took the mic and wriggled until I was sitting more comfortably. A moment later the lights hit us, two spots, and Mav began to play. “In Limbo” was one of our oldest songs, released just after we had made it big with Hollow, and it was one of the songs I held closest to my heart. It was also a fan favourite, probably because of how we played it live, so I allowed the music to steal all of my focus and wipe away all questions sitting in my mind.

For now, there was only music.

Only me.

My band.

My family.

Kisses and pinched skin were pushed away, and I sang.

6

My hands slammed hard against the heavy bar along the centre of the door at the end of the corridor, hard enough to send it crashing into the brick wall of the alley behind it. I flew through the wide space, ignoring the shouts of protest coming from my bandmates. They wanted to talk, but I didn’t. I had no idea what to say to anyone. I just needed to get away, take a minute.

Hell, I didn’t even know if I wanted to hide in the bedroom and unlock my drawer or if I wanted to scream into a pillow.

Our encore had been perfect, and I had basked in the cheers for as long as I could before we had to come backstage, and I had to face the reality of what had happened tonight.

I didn’t want to though. Not yet. So, unashamedly, I was running away.

“Bea!” I heard Cole call after me, his voice the only one that held an ounce of a plea. It was almost enough to make me pause and go back inside. Almost, but not quite.

Ignoring him and digging around in my bra as I hurried towards the bus, I located my key. My feet carried me up the steps to the door, but a hand tugged me back down.

“What are you doing?” I snarled, spinning to face whoever had grabbed me.

Surprise hit me first, then frustration as I faced the culprit. The man who was the source of my current mood, the very reason that I didn’t want to go back inside.

“We need to talk.” His tone was sharp, commanding, and rubbed me the wrong way.

“I don’t want to talk.” I was only half lying. I didn’t, but I also did. I had so many questions, yet none were ready to leave my head. They were all far too jumbled to even make sense. So I shoved Ronan—not that he actually moved an inch—and turned back to the bus, jamming my key into the lock and letting myself in.

I wasn’t going in alone though. Ronan’s hand collided with the door as I attempted to close it on him, a command to let him in bursting from the angry bassist. I didn’t bother to fight. What was the point? He was huge and my tiny ass wouldn’t have held the door in place for more than a second if he had used any real force, so instead of wasting my energy, I made a beeline for the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, and slurped noisily to drown out his incessant barking.

He continued to throw his commands my way. ‘Stop acting like a brat’, ‘Get your ass back here’, he repeated himself over and over as I tossed my empty bottle in the recycling container and stormed the length of the bus, throwing open the back door that led to the bedroom, not bothering to switch on the light as the two lightsabers sitting on the back wall were already illuminating the room, bathing it in a glow of blue, purple, and red.

Ronan was following me, and I spun in the doorway, widening my stance and planting my hands on the frame. I glared up at him as he stopped before me. “I need some space. Leave me alone.” I snapped.

Ronan raised a brow, then glanced over my head in the direction of the bedside table before smirking at me. “Because of me? Or because you can’t stand to break your post-show ritual?”

My jaw dropped, but I quickly clamped it shut. I didn’t evenwantto know how he knew what I did in here after every show. But I hadn’t pulled myself together fast enough to hide my surprise. Ronan had noticed, and he was smug as fuck about it.

“Did you think that none of us knew? Oh, Queenie, we all know what you get up to back here. We know what’s in the drawer, and we know exactly how long it takes for you to get yourself off.”

“How?” I had intended to only think the question, but it had come out in a shocked whisper.

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