Page 29 of The Prodigal Son

Instead, I text Theo.

Good luck tonight.

I’m shocked by how quickly he responds.

Are you here?

Yep.

Come backstage.

I’ve got an hour before I go on.

Really?

I don’t want to bother you.

Not at all.

You know how to find it?

I’ll figure it out.

See you soon.

Standing up in a rush, I toss what’s left of my food in the trash and walk toward the VIP section. There’s a man in black withsecuritywritten across his shirt. I show him my backstage pass and he points to the correct door.

I’m not normally a nervous guy, but right now, the nerves are there. I’m about to see Theo again. And he actually wants to see me. How is this real?

I walk down a long hallway before coming to another security door. I show them my badge and they let me through without question. Suddenly, I’m behind the stage, music blaring from the opening band.

It’s a little chaotic, and I feel like a fool asking the nearby person in black where Theo Virgil is. But he hardly gives me a second look before pointing toward a banged-up black door. I press it open hesitantly and find another hallway. This one is quieter.

There are doors on either side, so I stroll down slowly.

Just then, a head pops out of one of the doors. Theo is wearing that adorable, dimpled smile when he sees me. There’s no hat on his head, so his dark-brown curls hang over his forehead until he brushes them back.

“You’re here,” he says excitedly.

Forcing myself to look and feel confident, I stride toward him and hold out a hand. “All thanks to you.”

He takes my hand, and the moment our palms touch and our eyes meet, it’s like fireworks.

I deserve this, I tell myself.A little indulgence won’t hurt anyone.

“Come in,” he says, tugging me toward the room. I notice the way his gaze dances from my eyes to my lips and down to my throat.

The room is small, like a greenroom with couches and a fridge with drinks. No one else is in here, so as soon as the door closes, we’re alone. My skin pricks with nervous energy.

At this point, I’m just terrified of reading the situation wrong. What if I’ve conjured all of this up, and Theo isn’t into me? What if he’s straight—or worse? A homophobe who gets the wrong idea about me. What if this ends badly?

I won’t make the first move. I’ll just follow his lead.

“You want a drink?” he asks, heading straight for the fridge. “We don’t have much in here, but we’ve got beer.”

“Beer is perfect,” I reply, watching him walk away and letting my eyes trail over his ass in those tight jeans.

After pulling out two longneck bottles, he hands one to me. I flip the top and keep my gaze on him as I take a swig.

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