Page 84 of Pretty Obsessed

"I've thought a lot about it." I'd thought about so many aspects of it. Was any of this sustainable? Was writing a book on the road something that would produce my best work like the cabin had in the past?

If he truly didn't think about any of these things, I envied the quietness of his mind.

"What have you thought about?"

I smiled, closing my eyes. "Do you really want all the things in my head?"

"If I could read your thoughts, I would."

"I don't think you'd really want to."

He grabbed my hip as I tried to pull back. "I do."

“Maybe I’ll tell you after you fuck me into the sofa.” Or maybe I hoped he’d forget about it.

Seventeen

River Wade

Being on stage was as close to meditation as I’d ever come. I felt peace when I was on stage. I’d never understood how people felt so close to a higher power while in church, not after my entire childhood going to church every Sunday. I never got it and I blamed God for putting me in the family He did every time my father drank. Every bruise brought a curse to my lips, aimed at whatever deity thought I deserved this life.

And on the worst nights, when I’d lock myself in a closet praying he wouldn’t find me in his drunk stupor, I’d tell God how much I hated Him for doing this to me. Every time I took the stage, I repeated the words I repeat over and over to the angels who listened.

“They tell us you’re kind and forgiving. They tell us to put faith in your hands, and what have you given me? You’re the cruelest power in creation. I hate you.”

And then when I got on stage and gave myself over to the crowd and the rhythm of the universe combined with music, I believed that maybe, just maybe there was something connecting us all and maybe that power didn’t control everything but it did offer us redemption.

I’d survived, hadn’t I?

Maybe purpose was greater than all of us. Or maybe it was all a random mess, but I was here, and I didn’t only want to be a survivor. I wanted to be more. I wanted to love and to be loved. To take care of my friends and be there when they needed me. I wanted to be enough and comfortable in my own skin, while not second-guessing all of my choices.

I didn’t know if any or all of that was possible. But I’d been put on this planet at a time and in a place where Emory was alive. The universe had brought us together. Something had granted me the pleasure of knowing him.

And maybe that was enough.

It didn’t make up for any of it, but it made it worth it. Worth it to still be breathing.

No matter how many bad days or memories I had breath in my lungs, and the bliss of total calm on stage. They were both gifts.

Today when I took the seat at my kit I breathed a thank you with my remembrance.

I thanked the universe for the gift of life in this time and place. For this peace I was given and forhim.

I began the lead-in before any of the other guys were on stage, and then came on as the music faded in for our opener. But instead of entering from where he normally did, Iris came from beside me. Thankfully I caught him out of the corner of my gaze so he didn’t startle me out of my rhythm. He brushed his fingers over my shoulder blade, then took up his guitar standing next to me as he began to play.

I gave him a playful side-eye. If this didn’t start rumors about us sleeping together I’d be shocked. He bent back towards me, rubbing his body against my arm before jumping off the raised platform my kit was on. Cas shot a scowl in my direction.

Had that been it? Was Iris avoiding Cas on stage? Or maybe he wanted to make a point. I couldn’t blame him, but I didn’t really want to be put between those two. The tension faded as we all got into our grooves.

Even Iris thrived. He wore a smile on stage, touching hands, working the crowd up, then sitting on the edge of the catwalk to sing directly to the group of fans pressed against the barrier. These were the moments we started this for, and maybe he’d be able to remember it. I hoped he felt it today.

I stood on my stool after the encore, unable to take my mind off what waited for me backstage. Not at all ashamed of the bulge in my jeans. Too anxious to get to Emory to care. We all thanked the crowd and jogged off. The guys were talking, high on the hype of the crowd. I kept my head down avoiding them, hoping I could slip by unnoticed, desperate to get to what waited for me in my dressing room.

Only Iris met my eyes as I walked around them, a smirk on his lips.

I knew he’d give us some alone time before coming to drag me out for a tattoo.

I put my hand on the door handle, jiggling and glancing over my shoulder before opening it a minuscule amount to slide through before anyone could see what lay inside. After the bright lights from the stage, it took my eyes a few minutes to adjust to the dim interior. He’d only left the red lamp in the corner on. I toed off my boots as he came into view. He wore only a smile, ass in the air, hands spreading it wide open for me.

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