Page 220 of Composed
The sound from the crowd bounces through the hallway.
Carter steps onto the stage first, standing behind the black, glittering drum kit. I tuck myself into the wings. A spotlight shoots onto him.
The crowd halts a breath, then they scream. Phone lights flicker across the room, lighting up the dark arena.
I brush my thumb over the hummingbird on my wrist and strain my eyes, searching for her in the crowd.
Another spotlight.
Axel thumbs his bass, a steady beat flooding the speakers. His pants fucking glitter.
A heady lick tears through the speakers.
Saint is still as a statue when a spotlight hits him. His eyes are bright, a smile locked on his face as he watches me. He winks.
I bounce on my feet before jogging onto the stage.
I tip my head back, my arms dangling at my sides as my spotlight hits.
The arena explodes in a chorus of screams, yells, and cheers.
A sharp wolf-whistle sneaks past my in-ear.
I drop my gaze, my heart thundering when I see her.
Hendrix stands right at the barrier, her hair a riot of loose waves that dangle down to her waist, black winged liner coating her eyelids, black gloss staining her lips. She wears a T-shirt with a disturbing amount of pictures of my face on it. The words My Boyfriend Is a Rock Star printed along the chest.
I shake my head and grin.
Idiots, the lot of them.
But they’re my fucking idiots, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.
It’s not been an easy journey for us to get here. There was a moment—a long fucking one—where I didn’t think we’d still be standing. But instead of giving up and calling it a day, I bucked up the courage to drive my sorry arse back to Chesterton and knock on that studio door.
My veins hum, my pulse racing.
This is our time now. Nobody to tell us who and what we get to be. It doesn’t get fucking better than this.
I tug my in-ears out and jump off the stage.
Hendrix watches me, her eyes alight, her expression nothing less than awed.
She opens her mouth when I step in front of her, but I don’t give her a second. I slam my lips to hers.
Another scream bursts around us, but I lose myself in the moment. In this kiss. In this woman.
She clings to me, her hands sinking into my hair, her breaths syncing to mine as I tangle our tongues. I drag her as close as I can until she’s half over the barrier. She nips my lips, and fire licks across my body, sparking every inch of me.
I shudder.
She pulls back an inch. Her chest expands, her lipstick chased away by my mouth.
She locks our eyes, tilting her head. “What are you doing, dude?”
“Loving you.” I curl my hand around the back of her neck.
She beams. “Is that right?”
