“Do you know why I’m always alone in my dressing room before every show? I can’t believe Inky hasn’t ratted me out.”
Chloe’s brows rose in surprise and her look of nervousness faded to curiosity. “Are you going to tell me something awesome?” she whispered, her voice laced with excitement.
Reid gave her a wry smile. “The things I’m willing to do for you,” he mumbled low enough for Chloe not to hear. With a deep breath, he dropped his eyes to their joined hands and spoke. “During my first tour, I had a nasty habit of throwing up before every show. I tried to play it off like I’d had too much to drink, which was the truth sometimes, but never the real cause of my nausea. One night before a show, I decided it was time to man up. So I skipped my dressing room and walked straight toward the stage.” Reid grimaced. “I didn’t even make it to the side of the stage before I threw up all over some poor kid. It was awful. After that, I never tried again. I go to my dressing room, take a shit-ton of nausea medicine, and let what happens happen.”
“Oh, Reid,” Chloe sighed, hooking her finger under his chin. When he met her gaze, her eyes were soft, yet bright. She grinned. He frowned. His expression only made her smile widen.
“Why are you laughing at me?” he asked, fighting his own smile.
“Because you just made that entire thing up, you liar!”
Reid chuckled and flinched when she playfully kicked his shin. “Fine, fine,” he conceded. “I don’t throw up before every show, but it does happen sometimes. And it did happen tonight. Shit, Jack Green is one of my favorite musicians; that’s intimidating.”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “You’re a jerk. I thought I was going to get something juicy and all I got was a half-baked puke story. Lame.”
Reid smirked and pushed one of her fallen shoulder straps back into place. “Say what you will,” he whispered. “But this platform is moving and you’ve completely forgotten about being nervous.”
Chloe’s eyes widened and she tried to pull her hand free, but Reid held tight. “You’re not supposed to be over here! You’re supposed to be on the middle platform. Go!”
Reid released her hand to position his guitar. “Nah, I think I’ll stay here.” His eyes widened as he got an idea. “I’m going to do a little something different during the last verse of the song. Just go with it, okay? I’ll explain later,” he said in a rush.
Chloe’s mouth fell open. “Are you kidding me? You can’t change the routine! This is live television!”
“I can and I will. I promise, you’ll understand soon enough. Now, are you ready to show everyone what real music feels like?”
Chloe’s eyes were still panicked. “Yeah,” she exhaled, cradling her violin. “Let’s make them feel it.”
The spotlight flashed to the empty center stage before sweeping across to where Reid and Chloe stood side by side. He bobbed his head and grinned as Drew counted off and began to play. One by one, they joined in, and this time Chloe came in on cue.
Unlike his concerts where he would normally talk a bit, he had to go into the song right away. Chloe swayed her hips and wore a small smirk as she brushed her shoulder against Reid’s. He twisted his head to the side and grinned as he stared down at her. He wasn’t sure what it was about their current position that felt so intimate, but it was almost as if they were the only two people in the room.
He gave her a quick wink before twisting away and walking to the center of the stage. Cheers erupted, and if he wasn’t mistaken, a few sounds of disappointment. He didn’t know if it was real, or if he was projecting his own displeasure about moving away from Chloe. As he hit the chorus, Chloe slid to her mark beside Greer, the pair moving in sync as they played.
When the song began to slow, Chloe turned to move back to her platform, but Reid blocked her path at center stage. She kept her smile in place and continued to play, but Reid could tell she was worried about his improvisation. The truth was, he wasn’t sure about what he was going to do either. But he had an opportunity to tell Chloe how he felt with the last, whispered verse of a song, so he took it, on live television. Moving as close as their instruments would allow, Reid played his guitar softly, his head bent and his eyes closed.
I close my eyes to remember a time
when there was a chance you could’ve been mine.
I don’t deserve it, we both know it’s true, but God . . . how I miss you.
Come on, girl, give me your hand
Come on, girl, let’s play pretend
Let’s fool ourselves into believing that we’re only friends.
The stage darkened and screams erupted as Reid remained with his head bent and eyes closed.