Page 36 of Electric Wounds
I nod, stepping forward, and he grabs my hand. He holds it the entire way through the park, the Subway, and Union Station, not releasing it as we approach the guys clustered off to the side in the main portion of the station.
Marcus raises an eyebrow, his eyes skimming over our disheveled clothes and intertwined hands. “We thought you got lost.”
“Just needed a breather,” Enzo says casually, but the grin on his face gives everything away.
“Doesn’t seem like breathing was the only thing you needed,” Dylan interjects, waggling his brows salaciously.
Jax elbows him, barely looking at us. “Let’s get back to the bus. I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day.”
Enzo keeps my hand in his as we start the journey back to the bus. I can’t help but smile. There is no other way I would have rather spent my first time in the city.
TWENTY-TWO
PRE-SHOW CHAOS
Lily
Back on the bus, the exhaustion from our adventure in the city catches up with everyone. Jax and Enzo climb into their bunks almost immediately. I collapse onto the couch and Dylan bundles me up into his lap, with Marcus laying on the opposite end. They turn on the tv, flipping across the available stations, debating the merits of the shows playing on each. I fall asleep before they settle on a channel.
When I wake up, it's time to prep for the show. The guys are always silent beforehand. It was something I had slowly gotten used to, their usual joking put aside to focus. It was part of the reason I was always so involved with the crew and making sure everything was set up. I wanted to help, but also the awkward silence of the dressing room sometimes got to me.
We gather our things and step outside of the bus into the organized chaos of the crew setting up. Jax strides ahead, in his usual ripped jeans and a black tank top, with his normal moody attitude. I ignore him, hovering towards the back of the group as we move towards the band’s designated space.
The guys settle into the seats scattered about the room. Marcus immediately grabs a guitar to practice one of his riffs,and Enzo quickly joins him with his bass. Dylan taps his drumsticks against his knees, looking deep in focus, and I watch him for a few seconds, surprised he’s not already sweating as he chose to wear a flannel backstage today.
Jax rarely joins in on the practice, and today is no different. He stands off to the side thinking, or brooding. After a second of observing, I back out of the room to check on the crew and give the band their space. They don’t really need me to watch their every move.
The second I step back into the chaos. I hear a panicked voice shouting, “Where is the Electric Wounds Amp two?”
“I’ll check the truck,” a crew member says, dashing past me. I push my back against the wall to avoid getting trampled.
Instead of adding to the madness, I wait off to the side. Minutes tick by, with no amp in sight, and the tension in the air thickens. I hear the crew muttering about other options and I’m about to step in to help brainstorm when Dylan pops his head out of the dressing room.
“Lily, you good?”
“I’m fine. Just checking on the crew,” I say, even though all I’ve done is lurk against the wall so far.
Almost as soon as I finish speaking, the missing crew member sprints by, arms hugged around a massive amp and sweat dripping down his forehead. “Found the amp,” he screams. The other members of the crew stop murmuring and immediately help him hook in the dozens of necessary cables.
Dylan watches for a second, then quirks a brow. “Want me to come hang out with you?”
“Nah, I’m good. You should relax before the show.”
He frowns. “It’s hard to relax when you’re not helping us warm up.”
“I never help you warm up,” I reply.
Dylan grins again. “Your presence makes it easier for us to focus.”
His words are charming, but I also know that Dylan flirts as easily as he breathes, and I have to constantly remind myself not to take him too seriously. Instead, I laugh and relent. “Fine, I’ll come back.”
He takes a step towards me, placing a hand on the wall next to my head. “But first,” he murmurs, lowering his head towards mine slowly. He pauses like he’s giving me a chance to pull away, and when I don’t, he seals his lips to mine. His kisses are slow and drugging. I find myself rising to my tiptoes, trying to deepen our connection and speed up his pace. Dylan doesn’t give in, maintaining his slow exploration of my lips, like he has all the time in the world to kiss me and he is going to take every second of it. He pulls away abruptly, resting his forehead against mine, the heat of his body seeping into my skin as he stands as close as he can without our bodies touching.
My heart flutters in my chest as I stare into his eyes. Dylan’s normal jovial nature has turned serious as he returns my stare intently. "Let’s get ready for the show," he eventually says, offering me a smile.
He grabs my hand, pulling me behind him to return to the dressing room. I ignore the pounding of my heart and trail behind him silently. He opens the door, and I follow him inside, expecting him to immediately release my hand, but he doesn’t.
Enzo, Marcus, and Jax seem to home in on the connection immediately, but don’t mention it. Instead, Jax launches into their pre-show ritual, while Dylan keeps my hand in his grip. He doesn’t let go until we exit the dressing room, slinging his arm over my shoulders the second he releases my hand. He steers me towards the stage, depositing me in my usual spot in the wings. Before he walks away, he kisses my forehead, and I feel like I might swoon. Thankfully, he doesn’t linger, leaving me to collectmyself in peace. I place a hand against my chest like it can help slow the too fast beating of my heart. It doesn’t.
