Page 20 of Backstage

“I’m used to Thomas doing this before every concert,” he says with a half-smile.

“Really? You’ve been touring for.. I don’t know, years, and he still hasn’t got used to it?” I ask incredulously while I rinse my mouth and brush my teeth.

Damian shrugs and smiles at me. “The stage tension doesn’t magically disappear. It’s what allows us to be focused every time we go out in front of the crowd. You just have to learn how it manifests itself and find a way to crush it.”

I inhale deeply and try with all my might to get a sense of perspective. I’m an adult, after all, I have to at least try to take his advice. “What about you? How did you solve yours?”

A flash of lust passes across his eyes but disappears so quickly I almost feel like I dreamt it.

“I’ll never tell you that, Lilly. Never.” He smiles mischievously as he opens the door and drags me by the hand.

“Take it easy, I’m wearing heels,” I complain.

Damian turns around, lifts me up by grabbing me from under my knees like a bride on my wedding night, and takes me to the club. As I put my arm around his neck for fear of falling, I struggle to resist the temptation to stick my fingers in his hair and savor the feeling of clenching them in my fist. The beard-covered jaw almost entices me to reach out with one hand and slide my fingers into the smooth skin of his neck. I wonder what it tastes like to put my lips on it and let my tongue tease out a kiss.

“We’ll never get to the stage otherwise,” he giggles amusedly as I roll my eyes. “Where are your glasses?” he asks, then studies my face.

I shrug my shoulders, resigned. “Sid made me wear my contact lenses.”

“I’ll have to remember to give him a little talk,” he whispers.

He sets my feet on the ground just behind the curtain that separates us from the side of the stage. I hear the buzz on the other side and my stomach does a somersault that I don’t like at all.

“Are you okay?” Luke asks me with one hand on my back, comforting me and easing the tension a little bit.

I look around, and I realize they’re all here, my bandmates, the Jailbirds, Evan, and even some of the technicians who set up the stage. Even though they’re all in conversations, I can see they’re glancing my way.

“I told you I didn’t want to see anyone. Traitor!” I poke him, not answering his question.

Luke laughs and hugs me.

“I’ve never seen you so anxious. I was afraid you’d run away, so I sent someone who might scare you. Because to be honest, Damian scares me. He’s huge, always looks pissed off, and if he were to kick my ass, my parents wouldn’t even be able to identify my body,” he confesses in a whisper in my ear.

I burst out laughing because I totally get it. Damian can be very intimidating when you don’t know him well. “Thank you. I don’t know if I would have gotten out of there if he hadn’t literally dragged me into it.”

“Are you ready to go on stage? Evan gave us five minutes to take a deep breath and focus on the concert.” He smiles at me, and I see Martin and Taylor coming up as the Jailbirds gather around them. The advantage of these little gigs is that we’ll do them all together, as if we were one big band, so at least the focus will be on the Jailbirds and not entirely on us. They know how to handle things if something goes wrong.

“No, I’m not, but it’s not like I can back out now, right? Have you seen how big the bodyguards are? Even if I tried to escape, I wouldn’t go anywhere. They’re as wide as the door.”

Luke laughs, grabs me by the hand, and drags me with him up the stairs to the stage. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a black hoodie abandoned on a chair. I grab it on the fly, and before going on stage, I put it on over my clothes. It reaches halfway down my thighs, and the sleeves are at least four inches longer than my fingers. It’s perfect and makes me feel safe, considering Sid snatched the one I brought from home.

When people realize we’re on stage, they start clapping and screaming. We take our seats on our stools and as soon as Damian sits next to me, I allow myself to look him in the eye. He has an amused smile on his face and shakes his head when he sees the sweatshirt. I shrug my shoulders back without saying a word. To them it’s just a sweatshirt, but for me, it’s the armor I need to feel safe and do what I love: play music.

We open the concert with “Two Hearts,” the song we recorded in the studio as our first video because people liked it, and it’s a great way to start with a bang. Until now, though, I didn’t realize how huge the fans’ appreciation was: the enthusiastic comments underneath a YouTube video don’t give you an accurate perception of how much people expect to hear the live performance. The intense screams of the girls in the audience, when Damian and Luke alternate in the stanzas, almost make my stomach vibrate.

During my chorus, when I look at Damian, I catch him winking at me a couple of times, as if to encourage me. A smile spreads across his face spontaneously and he grabs my hand, squeezing it gently, as a shake goes through my body. It’s only a fraction of a second, an innocent gesture of support, but I feel butterflies in my stomach; when he lets go, I’m almost disappointed.

The energy radiating from the small crowd makes my chest explode in happiness as I look Damian in the eyes during the final refrain. The emotions you feel during shows are always different. You can be nervous and frustrated because the audience is cold and not responding or super excited because people are jumping and having fun, shouting, and singing. But one thing is always the same, the emotions are so amplified they make you almost dizzy. I can only compare it to drinking enough alcohol to loosen your inhibitions, but not too much to lose control. The perfect midpoint makes you light-headed and fully enjoying your emotions.

At this moment, Damian is bewildering me, approaching the stool and placing his hand on my back. My body leans into his touch, and my gaze snaps towards him. His face is just inches away from mine. What the hell is he doing?

“Relax, I just want to sing from your microphone.” He smiles at me as he turns towards me and locks me between his legs.

The first words of “Jude” tremble on my lips until I get used to the idea of having him so close, with his perfume intoxicating me and his breath brushing against my sweaty skin. His eyes don’t leave me for a second, and even though I know he’s only doing it for the show, it doesn’t lessen the almost physical pleasure I get from the intimacy of this moment. The screams from the audience are overwhelming.

I’m almost euphoric when, halfway through the concert, I notice my companions are not missing a single beat, their fingers confidently playing their instruments with ease. Thomas and Taylor are so synchronized in rhythm they seem to have merged into one. It’s one of those rare times when everything is running smoothly, and you feel relaxed enough to perform even better, to think you’re perfect and invincible, because at that moment, you are. Every time we get on stage, we have hours of rehearsal and sweat behind us. We’ve mastered those tracks to the point that they’ve become part of us. The only way we’d make a mistake now is if we gave in to nervousness.

The audience’s response is terrific, thanks to the world’s most famous band on stage. When I look at Luke, Taylor, and Martin, I see their incredulous eyes traveling over the faces of the people in the room, and I thank God I was persuaded to sign on for this tour. I would have never forgiven myself for denying my best friends this chance.

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