Page 6 of Electric Wounds
The music flows out of us, raw and powerful. It’s not just sound—it’s everything we are, all the shit we’ve been through, all the blood and sweat we’ve poured into this. Each song is a story, a piece of us laid bare. We’ve fought for this, broken ourselves down and built ourselves back up for it. And when we’re on stage, nothing else matters. The music is all there is.
But even as I play, I can’t help glancing toward the wings. Lily’s standing there, watching the band, her eyes wide with something like awe. There’s a pull between us I can’t shake. Part of me knows I’m an idiot for thinking she’s here for me. But I can’t help it.
The set blurs by in a haze of lights and sound. We pour everything into it, and the crowd gives it back to us tenfold. The energy is electric, the kind of show you live for. During a break between songs, Jax talks to the crowd, and I catch Lily’s eye. I give her a wink, and she blushes, looking away with that little smile. It’s all I need to kick my energy up a notch, pushing my performance harder, faster.
By the time we hit the final song, the place is vibrating with energy. The crowd moves with us, a sea of faces and hands lost in the music. It’s overwhelming, the high of it. Nothing else comes close to this. No drug, no thrill can compare.
The last notes ring out, and the crowd erupts into deafening applause. We stand there, soaking it in, the sweat dripping down our faces, our bodies still buzzing with adrenaline. This is why we do it. For this moment.
“Thank you, Denver!” Jax shouts into the mic, his voice raw but alive.
I exit the stage, riding the wave of energy, my body drenched in sweat, but my mind on fire. Lily’s waiting for us backstage, her smile wide, her eyes bright. She’s beaming like we’ve just handed her the world. “You guys were amazing,” she says, her voice full of genuine admiration.
“Of course we were,” I reply, my arrogance flaring up. “Glad you enjoyed the show.”
She smiles again, but this time it feels more forced. Our eyes meet, and for a second, it feels like there’s something more there. But then Marcus slings his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his orbit, and just like that, whatever connection I thought was there dissolves.
She’s not into me. I’m an idiot for thinking otherwise. She’s just admiring the band.
We head back to the dressing room, Marcus leading the way with Lily by his side. The high from the show is still coursing through me, but so is something darker—something that feels like jealousy, like lust, like frustration. Lily’s a distraction, and I need to get her out of my head before I do something I’ll regret.
FIVE
THE AFTER PARTY
Lily
The post-show high is electric, buzzing off the band and pulling me into the afterglow of their killer performance. The roar of the crowd still echoes in my mind as Marcus insists it would be a terrible idea to skip the after party.
"You can’t miss this," he says, slinging an arm around my shoulders. "You’ve gotta experience the full rockstar lifestyle."
“Yeah, Lily,” Dylan adds, his grin mischievous. “It’s all part of the job.”
We pile into a van, heading deeper into the city, away from the venue. I had planned to go back to the bus and get some rest, but I didn’t want to be the one to ruin their night. If they wanted to party, then I, as the band’s handler, had no choice but to join. We arrive at a lavish house, the music thumps loudly, audible from the street. The air is thick with the scent of alcohol, sweat, and something else—probably weed. I’ve never been around it much, but the smell is pungent and terrible.
Hopping out of the van, I walk through the front door trailing behind the band, and the wild sounds of the party hit me like a wave. People are everywhere, drinks in hand, the atmosphere buzzing with excitement. Groupies flock around theband members like moths to a flame. Feeling out of place amidst the scantily clad women and tattooed men, I stick close to the guys.
“Welcome to the circus,” Enzo mutters, smirking as he grabs a beer from a passerby. His eyes are already scanning the crowd for his next distraction.
Jax is the first to drift away from the group. A handsy brunette attaches herself to him almost immediately, her lips brushing his ear as he leans in to whisper something. She nods eagerly, and they head toward the stairs. She’s tall, curvy, with long flowing hair and a tight dress that clings to every curve. He glances back at me with a quick nod before disappearing upstairs with her. A strange mix of jealousy and disappointment swirls inside me. It’s ridiculous—I barely know him and he’s an adult that can do whatever he wishes to. Shaking it off, I scan the rest of the party.
In the time it took me to watch Jax head up the stairs, Marcus, Enzo, and Dylan have all disappeared, leaving me alone. I find a spot near the wall to lean against and observe. The house is unnecessarily opulent, the total opposite of the gritty venue the band had just played. A crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, casting a soft glow over the crowd, and plush carpets muffle the footsteps in other rooms. Expensive artwork adorns the walls. Despite the expensive surroundings, the party is in full swing—people are dirty dancing, drinking, and indulging in all sorts of vices.
Across the room, I spot Dylan and Marcus with a dark-haired woman who looks like she walked right out of a music video. She’s wild-eyed, and scantily clothed, her laughter echoing through the room. Dylan leans in to whisper something that makes her giggle, while Marcus runs his hands over her body, tracing a tattoo on her arm.
“Let’s find somewhere more private,” I read Marcus’s lips from across the room as he suggests it. He leads her away, stopping in a dimly lit corner just beyond the main crowd.
I watch as Marcus presses his body against hers, kissing her with hunger. Dylan stands behind her, his hands roaming her body as her shirt comes off, revealing her breasts that bounce with each of her movements. Marcus’s hands are everywhere, gripping her hips, sliding up her thighs, while Dylan nibbles at her neck, eliciting moans I can only imagine as they become lost in the loud music.
They’re fully into it, and I realize I’m staring, envy and fascination mixing inside me. My face flushes with embarrassment as I glance away. This is definitely not my scene.
I wander into the kitchen, needing a moment to breathe. The counters are cluttered with empty bottles, and a group of people huddle around the island, snorting lines of cocaine. My stomach churns, and I turn away, focusing on finding something to drink that won’t mess me up.
I pour myself a glass of water, listening to bits of conversation float around me—people are talking about the band, their music, and the wild stories that surround them. It’s strange hearing strangers discuss the lives of the guys like they know them personally. I guess that’s part of being famous. Everyone feels like they know you enough to comment on your life.
“Hey, Lily,” Jax says, suddenly appearing beside me. His presence is comforting, until I notice the disheveled state he’s in. His hair is messy, his shirt untucked, and a faint smell of sex clings to him. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I lie, giving him a half-smile. “Just... taking it all in.”
