Page 1 of To the Moon and Back

Chapter One

“You and me together, forever, yeah, yeah, yeah!”

The shower rained down as I rinsed my hair and sung at the top of my voice.

“Never gonna tear us apart, baby, yeah, yeah, yeah!”

The bathroom acoustics were great and I upped my enthusiasm and reached for the conditioner, pausing momentarily to use it as a microphone.

“To the moon and back, for all of time, yeah, yeah, yeah!”

It was a song I’d written the year before and one of my best works. If only I could get a break—get my lyrics heard by the masses.

After shaving my legs, I finished up in the shower and stepped out. I dried and swiped the steam from the mirror. I’d dyed my hair neon blue in preparation for Rhythm-Fest, the biggest, hippest music festival of the summer. As I dragged a brush through the tangled locks, my stomach swirled with excitement. Having so many of my favorite bands in one place—Bastille, Scarlet Men, First Aid Kit, Pickled—and being able to dash from one stage to another was my idea of heaven.

I slathered on sun cream, paying extra attention over my new upper arm tattoo—a complete band of musical notes, each one a different color of the rainbow—then dragged on a vintage Woodstock vest and denim shorts so tiny they’d give my grandmother one of her turns.

Just as I’d finished shoving the last of my toiletries and a box of wine into my rucksack, the doorbell chimed.

“Coming.”

I rushed to open it, a big smile tugging at my mouth and balling my cheeks. My guys were here.

“Lacy, are you ready?” Nial stepped in, breezing a kiss over my cheek.

“Yep.” I rested my hand on his sun-warm, bronzed shoulder. Seemed he’d already given up on wearing a t-shirt today. “I’m all set.”

“I don’t believe you.” Rich raised his eyebrows at me.

I laughed. “I am…almost.”

He chuckled and followed me indoors.

“You’ll never guess what?” Nial said, poking at his glasses which constantly slipped down his nose.

“You didn’t…you did…you got us the chance to be a supporting act on center stage?” I feigned shock.

He grinned and shook his head. “Sadly the festival will be missing out on our contribution this year.”

“Maybe next summer.” Rich plucked a grape from the fruit bowl, tossed it in the air then caught it in his mouth.

“Yeah, maybe next.” It was our dream for our band, Sliders, to get a big break. We only needed a chance, just one opportunity to be heard. We were good, more than good, bloody brilliant. Everyone who listened to our stuff told us that. Trouble was, it wasn’t the right people listening.

“I’ve got us tickets to the silent disco tent,” Niall said.

“You did.” I laughed. “Those things are mad.”

“Yeah, but DJ Dizzy is spinning.”

“And we know you love him.” Rich wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me close. “Don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do.” I studied his face. “And I love you too.”

“Good.” He kissed me—a proper, open-mouthed, tongue kiss that made my knees weak and had me melting against him. Rich was a great kisser. He made me lose my mind whenever he decided to go in for a serious smooch.

“Hey, guys, we’re going to be late and that’ll mean a crap pitch.” Nial laughed. “We want to be close to the action, right.”

“Yeah, yeah, we know.” Rich slid his hand to my ass, gave it a squeeze then a swift slap. “Go get ready, sweet cheeks.”

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