Thankfully, about a minute later, Sage slams the sticks against the drums, and Ayden strums the strings of his guitar. The sounds of the instruments block out my focus on the audience as my lips part.
“Rush. Rush. Rush.
My heart is rushing like the rain,
Erasing every ounce of pain from my body
And spilling it below me.
My sins bleed into the water,
Soaking through the ground.
Rush. Rush. Rush.
I close my eyes and feel myself disappear.
A skeleton of myself, a ghost of my soul,
I’ll never give in to anyone.
I’ll never go through this again.
Rush. Rush. Rush.”
The lyrics are more morbid than what I normally sing, but I wrote them on a whim while I was bored one day and watched way too many depressing movies. When I sang it to my dad, he thought it rocked awesomeness, so I shared it with the band.
It’s the first time I’ve sung it on stage before. The upbeat tempo has the crowd going wild, dancing and head banging, feeding me with the fuel I need to really get into the performance.
By the time I sang our full set, I’m dripping with sweat and grinning as I bounce backstage. Sage and Nolan high-five me on their way out, but Ayden seems a bit distracted. He passes by me without so much as a glance in my direction.
“What’s up?” I chase after him, back past the curtain and to the flat area near the exit doors.
He carefully sets his guitar in the case. “It’s nothing.” His brows dip. “I just . . . I just had the strangest feeling someone was watching me, but I can’t figure out why.”
“Did you maybe see someone in the crowd that you know?”
“No, it’s not that . . .” He trails off then shakes his head. “Never mind. I’m just being paranoid.” When he faces me, he forces a smile. “Let’s go celebrate your amazing performance.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I want to celebrate my awesome performance, too.” His lips quirk with genuine amusement.
I thrum my fingers together evil-villain style. “Hmmm, whatever shall we do?”
“Party.” Sage appears out of nowhere like a freaking ninja with a bottle of champagne in his hand.
“Dude, did you jack that from the bar?” I reach for the bottle.
He dodges out of my reach. “Actually, I stole it from my mom’s fridge. She has as least ten bottles of it, so she won’t notice.” He looks down at the bottle. “Although, I wish it were a bottle of Bacardi.” He shrugs then grips the bottle in front of him and, with his thumb, pops the cork.
The bottle hisses and foam shoots all over the floor. I jump out of the path of the spraying foam while Sage takes a swig then offers me the bottle.
I take the drink from him. “I’m down, but you’ve totally got to take the fall for the mess on the floor if my dad finds out. I’m already on thin ice with him.” I angle my head back and chug some champagne.
“Why? What’d you do?” Nolan asks, intrigued, as he joins our circle. He snatches the bottle from me after I lower it from my mouth and downs at least a quarter of the bottle.
I shrug, giving a discreet glance at Ayden. “Just some stuff.”
“Stuff as in . . .” Sage’s shifty gaze moves back and forth between Ayden and me questioningly. “Okay, never mind. Forget I asked.” He pats his pockets. “I think I’m going to go outside and smoke.” Which is code for him going outside, smoking, then hooking up with the first decent looking girl he can find.
He strides toward the exit door and pushes outside. Nolan throws back another swallow of champagne then shoves the bottle at me and hurries after Sage.
I take another sip then turn to Ayden. “You want some?” I ask, even though he more than likely will decline.
Neither of us are big drinkers, and Ayden doesn’t like doing it because he feels like he’s acting like his old self, the person he was before Aunt Lila and Uncle Ethan adopted him. So, I’m a bit startled when he grabs the bottle from me and takes a few swallows.
“You’re suddenly in a weird mood,” I remark as he hands the bottle back to me.
“I’m feeling pretty okay right now, maybe even good.” He laces his fingers through mine then stares at our interlocked hands with the faintest smile on his lips. From the sight of it, my insides get all gooey, like melted chocolate. “I was thinking we could hang out tonight and talk.”
Interesting, since he has never been a big talker.
“Okay, you want to go home, then, and hang out in one of our rooms? Or did you have something else in mind?”
“Remember the spot near the bridge that we used to hang out at back before we could drive?” he asks, and I excitedly bob my head up and down. “I was thinking we could go there.”
Goddamn those butterflies. They come to life the moment he says it. What the hell are they expecting to happen exactly?
“Yeah, we can do that.” I raise the bottle to my mouth and throw back a couple more sips. “I’ll go tell my dad we’re leaving and meet you at the car?”
Nodding, he collects his guitar case, and we part ways. I head down the metal stairs to the main floor, past the busy bar, and down the hallway right as the next band starts playing. Music flows through the building like warm honey and vibrates the floors.
“They have a good beat,” I comment aloud. “But we are definitely better.” I abandon the bottle of champagne before I reach the last door. “Hey, old man,” I tease as I enter my dad’s cluttered office. The walls are decorated with old music memorabilia, and the desk is covered with papers and wrappers. “I’m taking off. Just wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything.”
My dad glances up from some papers on his desk. He’s sporting his bedhead/fauxhawk, and he has a half empty beer next to him. “I actually needed to talk to you . . . Is the rest of your band still here?”
I shake my head and sink down in a chair across from his desk. “Nah, Nolan and Sage are doing God knows what, and Ayden’s waiting for me out in the car.”
My dad scrunches his nose. “You guys are going straight home, right?”
“We might make a stop or two on the way.”
He frowns in disapproval. “I’d rather you go straight home.”
“I won’t be out late.” I flash him a devious grin. “And don’t worry, I put that condom Mom gave me in my pocket.”