Page 40 of Knot My Band: Part One
Oli
OMEGA BUZZ GOSSIP COLUMN
MAY THORNTON’S BITTER JEALOUSY DOESN’T SEEM TO BE AFFECTING OLI HART OR THE EDGE’S PERFORMANCES AS THEY PLAY TO A SOLD OUT CROWD IN SAN FRANCISCO
April 15th
Islump against the wall of our dressing room after a sold-out performance in San Francisco.
“Damn, we killed it!” I say, my voice barely above a whisper from belting out lyrics for the last two hours. My skin is slick with sweat.
I lean against the cool wall, trying to catch my breath.
“Oli, you were on fire tonight,” Chase grins, his tattoos stretching with the movement. His drumsticks are still in his hand as if he can’t bear to let go of them yet.
“Thanks, Chase,” I reply, swiping at the beads of sweat on my forehead. The coolness of my palm is a brief respite. “You weren’t too shabby yourself,” I wink.
“Shabby? I was spectacular,” he retorts with mock indignation, flipping a stick in the air and catching it with ease. His laughter is a low rumble that fills the small space.
“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” I tease back, pushingoff the wall to grab a towel. The fabric is rough against my skin, but it’s needed.
I might need to buy some softer towels to keep my omega happy.
Riley pops into the room. “Ten minutes until meet and greet with the fans.”
I pull her into a hug.
“Ew! You’re covered in sweat, Olive!” she complains, but I know she doesn’t mean it.
A crew member knocks before entering the room with a bouquet of flowers. “These came for you, Ms. Hart.”
He sets them down before rushing out the door.
“They’re gorgeous. Who are they from?” Riley asks.
There’s got to be a card or something, right? My eyes dart around the base of the vase, between the stems, searching for any hint of who might have sent these.
“No clue.”
The four guys come to check them out and crowd me away from them.
“A fan?” Aiden guesses.
“Or an admirer,” Dax murmurs grumpily.
Chase folds his arms, his usual warmth gone in stark contrast to the cool tone he’s using now. “Someone’s got a crush on our Oli, huh?”
“Let me see!” Riley reaches for the bouquet, eyes wide with wonder. “They’re gorgeous, but it’s weird, right? No message?”
“Definitely weird,” I agree. “But they’re beautiful, so, Riley, can you put them on the bus?”
The guys huddle closer, radiating protective energy.
“Maybe too weird,” adds Jack, his voice a low rumble thatsends vibrations through the air. “You can’t be too careful, Oli.”
“Let’s trash them,” Dax adds darkly, crossing his tattooed arms over his chest. The protective glint in his eyes is unmistakable.
“But they’re gorgeous,” I defend. I hate the idea of just wasting such a beautiful bouquet. “Can we give them to someone on the crew?”
