Baffled, I looked back at the stage.
“Told you,” Paige said to Neil as I zeroed in on them individually, noting how well they played off each other before I turned my attention back to Reid, who never, not once, acknowledged his audience. He was all business, but I could tell as he glanced over to Ben, who occasionally fucked with him, that playing was his second air. I was riveted, completely and utterly enthralled. Sweat gathered at his temple. I’d never in my life seen anything sexier than Reid Crowne skillfully spinning his sticks with expertise before he gunned his beats. His sweat-drenched hair flying loosely around his face while he dug in and reacted to the music with his body, immersed in his rhythm. Heat glistened off his neck as he rode the wave of music, his timing flawless. He bit his lip when he sped up, rocking his body as my chest rose and fell with desire. I was thirsty and wanted nothing more than to drink the salt off his skin, straddle his lap, and rock myself against him. Newly addicted, Reid’s beats my fix. I would never get enough of the sight of him in his element as he owned the stage.
The Sergeants mixed a few originals I’d heard at practice that had serious potential with some on-point covers. Ben had told me at The Garage that covers weren’t the time to make music their own, because it wasn’t their hard work to fuck with. It was a time to pay tribute. Reid had told him that was the biggest load of bullshit he’d ever heard in his life, and that some of the most remembered songs were remade covers, but he played the same drum beat anyway to appease him. The two seemed to playfully duel often about direction, while Rye and Adam were the less temperamental and just eager to play. And even without knowing their personalities, I knew they were all a match. Their sound was a mix of straight-laced, old-school rock paired perfectly with elements of metal, psychedelic, and punk. I was utterly manic and more than floored bearing witness to the beginning of something. I damn near lost my shit when they started an acoustic version of “Freak on a Leash” by Korn that turned it into a masterfully crafted crescendo of epic metal feedback through their amps. Reid tore his drums to shreds while Ben fucking blew the lid off the vocals. And I wasn’t the only one in the club reacting. Paige was on her feet, unleashing her screams right along with Neil, and it wasn’t until I noticed them standing that I realized I was doing it right along with them. The whole floor filled within an hour of the start of their second set, people busting at the seams, full of recognition and admiration. There was no shortage of women, either, who were vying for the attention of the charismatic lead singer with a versatile voice, guitarist, bassist, and the drummer, who didn’t bother to acknowledge they existed. I was fully intoxicated and hadn’t touched my beer since they started. And I was thankful. I played off the crowd as we gathered and worshipped at the altar of the Dead Sergeants and they rioted.
“You’re quiet,” Paige remarked on the way home as she turned in her seat to look back at me. I hid my disappointment at the fact that Reid was still in the club surrounded by any number of women, who started buying him beers before his set was over. We’d briefly caught the band after their second set. Paige hugged Reid like a proud mother while I stood back silently as she went on and on. He only glanced my way once, his playful eyes lit with adrenaline as I stayed back and waited for a second alone with him, a word, a whisper, and got nothing. Ben gripped me in a bear hug from behind and carried me to the bar for a celebratory shot, which I sucked down without hesitation.
“Where’s my girl, Stella?”
I wrinkled my nose. “She just can’t get away. She’s moving here in a few weeks, but I have a feeling you know that.”
“I do,” he yelled over the new music that filtered throughout the club.
“Then be patient,” I said as he glanced at a girl over my shoulder. He smiled at her then shared the same one with me. “Lexi’s worth it.”
“And what about you?” he asked with a knowing smirk.
“I’m in love with the Sergeants. Jesus, Ben!”
He gave me a knowing grin. “That good?”
“So much better than that.”
“Doesn’t hurt we have our man back,” he said, nodding toward Reid, who was only feet away. I could feel him behind me, the rattle becoming an ache. I was acting like an amateur and repeating old habits. I felt the brush of fingertips slide along the hem of my T-shirt across my back as he passed me. He looked over his shoulder and our eyes connected before he pointed to the bartender. I was about to go to him, a hungry moth, when Paige grabbed Ben’s T-shirt and pulled him in for a brief hug.
“You. Were. Fucking. Awesome!” Paige gave him a mother hug as she turned to me with a sigh. “God, it’s hot in here. You ready to go?”
With a regretful look in Reid’s direction, I shrugged. “Yeah.”
Paige gripped my hand and whisper-yelled to Reid, who nodded then clasped hands with Neil before I was dragged outside, my gaze lingering on him before I was rushed through the door.
Back in the car, I answered my sister and did my best to hide my resentment. “I’m fine. Tired.”
“Yeah, but, God, they just keep getting better. I want to go next week,” she told Neil.
“’K, babe.”
Paige moved in her seat with energy as I lay back, painfully aroused and restless.
At home, I stood under the showerhead and wiped away a night of sweat and a tear of frustration. Why did this have to be so fucking complicated?
I wanted him.
He wanted me.
I think.
Screw the consequences.
Fire brewed in my belly as Neil and I placated my sister by watching her favorite movie, Clueless. I yawned double-time as I looked at the clock.
11:00 p.m. Go to bed, Paige.
11:11 p.m. Make a wish, Stella. I wished for Reid Crowne.
12:13 a.m. Is he even home?
1:00 a.m. I stared a hole through my sister’s head.
1:16 a.m. It was a stupid idea anyway.
1:32 a.m. “Goodnight,” Paige said with a smile as Neil grabbed her hand and led her into their bedroom.
“’Night,” I whispered low, as if I were about to fade off to sleep. I rolled my blanket out, fluffed my pillow, brushed my teeth, and twenty minutes later, I snuck out the front door.
Every step I took in the direction of his apartment was filled with uncertainty. Every single minute, the ache got stronger. I raced toward him, a woman on fire, rushing to the heat of his lips, the flame in his kiss.
“Please be home,” I whispered as I took his stairs two at a time. I knocked softly and waited.
Go back, you fucking groupie!
The door opened a second after I turned my back to it.
I looked over my shoulder and began to stutter like an idiot to a shirtless and sweating Reid.
Furious with myself, I glared at him and his beautiful torso. “I just didn’t get a chance to tell you that the show was good.”
“Good?” he said with an arched brow. “Are these the adjectives you’ll use when you write for Speak?”
I gave him upturned lips and the bird. On the verge of exploding with feelings I had no idea I was capable of, I backed away. “So, I guess you’re busy in there.” I motioned past his shoulder. “See you at work.”
“Stella.”
I stopped my feet and braved a glance his way. He lifted his arm on the frame enough for me to squeeze past.
“You’re alone?”
He smirked at the smile on my face as I passed beneath his arm. There was no use hiding my relief. Before I knew what was happening, I was nailed to the back of his closed front door.
He raised my hands above my head and threaded his fingers through mine.