Page 37 of A Duet of Darkness and Dreams

Before waiting for an answer, I walk, hunched over underneath the bar until I’m at the very edge, then I bolt for the perimeter of the room. The bar is packed, and even if I wanted to run at this point, that would be impossible because of the crowd. I glance over my shoulder toward where I last saw Simon, but he’s gone. Stopping, I push up onto my tip toes trying to see over top of the crowd. Then, just like the sea parted for Moses, the crowd shifts and Simon is only a few people ahead of me.

In my panic, I stumble toward the wall with a loud thump, then notice a sliver of light next to me. A closet? I weigh my options. Hide in what I assume to be the coat check closet, or potentially face Simon as I try to leave.

Closet it is.

I slide along the black painted paneling and grasp the door handle, throw it open, and hurl myself inside. Turning toward the door, I close it behind me and step backward, expecting to feel coats behind me. But I meet a wall instead—a contoured wall that smells like Ivory soap.

“Izzy?”

CHAPTER 13

Pour Some Sugar on Me

DAVE

Asmall yelp escapes her red lips as Isabella spins around, her dark eyes growing comically large as she takes me in.

“Dave?” she asks, bewildered. She scans the space. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought this was a closet.”

I tilt my head as I take her in now that she’s so close. I feel like the biggest creep ever, watching her throughout the night without her knowledge from the moment she walked through the door in her little red dress. I’m ashamed to say I leered at her as she leaned over the bar to give her drink order, the backs of her thighs straining in a way that had me nearly pitching a tent in my jeans.

Eyes finding her face again, I gesture with my head toward the stairs disappearing down into the dark unknown. “No, it’s the way to the stage from down below. Wait, why were you looking for a closet?”

Even in the dim light, her cheeks flush. “I—Well, I . . .”

My chest swells at the adorable way she gets so easily flustered. I wonder if she gets flustered with everyone or just me.

“I was just getting a bit overwhelmed by the crowd,” shefinally spits out. “I’m not used to the noise and . . . well, everything else.”

She looks away, and a loose strand of hair sweeps over her collarbone. My hand flexes as I use all of my strength not to reach out and brush it back.

“Yeah, I can understand that.”

“Wait,” she says, eyeing me up and down, “why areyouin here?”

“Considering this is technically backstage, I’m allowed to be here,” I say with a smirk.

She rolls her eyes. “I mean, why aren’t you out there.” She juts her thumb over her shoulder toward the door. “Why aren’t you meeting your fans and signing autographs and partying?”

The smile falls from my face and I look down at the floor, stuffing my hands into my pockets to keep myself from touching her. “I’m just—I don’t know, I’m a bit overwhelmed too, you know?”

Her expression softens from something accusatory to sympathetic.

“What Key said . . . the four of us were never popular kids. So I know it looks like we’re eating up all this attention, but the truth is, it’s—it’s . . .”

“A lot?” she finishes.

I release a breathy laugh. “Yeah.”

She smiles. “I get it. And for the record? Totally normal.”

Sighing, I turn and sit down on the top step. “I just need a few more minutes, I think.” I lean against the cool plaster wall and hear the sound of Izzy’s heels clicking against the groaning floorboards. For a moment, I think she’s going to leave, that she’ll assume I want space and head back out, so I’m surprised when she sits down, her hip touching mine on the narrow staircase.

She wraps her slender arms around her knees and for a few minutes, we just sit together in the muffled quiet.

“Thank you for the album, by the way,” she says.

“You’re welcome.”

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