“Are you okay?” My voice wraps around us in the dark. “You feel . . . different.”
His gaze is soft, almost sad. Suddenly, I realize why it looks so familiar.
It’s the expression he wore the entire time we filmed the video together, from the twin staircases to the plush king-size mattress.
He props himself up on his elbows to look down at me. “I’m scared,” he says.
My thumb traces his ear, brushes against the silver cross hanging from his lobe, and he leans into my touch. “Scared of what?”
“Losing you.”
He closes his eyes. A beam of moonlight cuts across his face, and I study the curve of his nose, the sharp edge of his jaw.
“My mom said love is like pickleball,” I say.
Dex opens his eyes and arches a brow. “What?”
I laugh a little, and it makes him smile. “I think she meant you have to practice at it, learn how to do it right.”
Dex pushes a hand through my hair, looking at me closely. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” he asks.
A rush of heat goes through me, makes my cheeks tingle. But I faced my fears in that audition, and I’m not going to stop now.
“I think I love you, Dexter Owen Reid.”
His smile is immediate. He pulls away from me and rises onto his knees, and I sit up across from him. He’s undoing the buttons on his dress shirt, and I watch, mesmerized, as the fabric falls away to reveal the canvas that is his skin.
Dex balls the material up and tosses it across the room, then grabs my hand and guides it to his chest. “Right here,” he says. “Look closely.”
The silver moonlight illuminates his chest. My fingers brush across his skin, and I lean closer, trying to find what he’s showing me.
And when I do, mist gathers in my eyes.
“Little Monster,” I whisper, tracing the fresh ink embedded in the skin right over his heart. My eyes find his in the dark. “Why?”
“I thought it might help me forget how much I wanted you . . . like I wouldn’t have to carry you around in my head if I had you on my body.”
His words send goose bumps skating across my skin. “And did it work?” I ask, voice breathy.
He puts his hand over mine, pressing my palm firmly into the tattoo. “Fuck no.”
A smile curls across my lips, and I whisper, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
Dex leans in, his forehead kissing mine. “Nora Elizabeth Miller,” he says, his words like magic in the night, “I know I love you. I love you so bad it hurts.”
The mist in my eyes turns to tears that drip down my cheeks. He kisses them away until they stop running from my eyes, until all that’s left between us is the night.
I capture his lips with mine, pull him against my body, and let him lay me down in the dark.
chapter 29
One Month Later
IT’S THE FIRST SHOW OF LGC’s summer tour. They’re starting in Cali, then will tour across the US before wrapping their shows in September. Dex asked me to come with him, so now Margot and I are living out of his tour bus. My winter season with the orchestra starts in September, so I’ll need to return to LA early to get ready for my first season as concertmistress.
I can still scarcely believe it.
Kind of like how I can barely believe I’m standing backstage at SoFi Stadium right now, listening to the deafening roar of the screaming audience. LGC already played their opening song, “Last Night,” and “Crash Course” is next.
Ashton stands next to me, lips cherry red and her dark hair styled in voluptuous curls. She leans in to whisper in my ear, breath smelling slightly of vodka from the celebratory shots we all took before the show started. “Follow me,” she says. “I wanna show you something.”
She takes my hand and has to physically pull me away. My eyes are glued on Dex where he’s standing onstage, illuminated by brilliant light that makes his hair appear gold. I don’t want to take my gaze off him, don’t want to miss a thing, but she’s dragging me away now, into the darkness of backstage.
“I don’t wanna miss the next one,” I say, glancing back over my shoulder, though all I can see now are the bustling show crews.
“You won’t,” she says. “Come on. Just trust me.”
I stop resisting, letting her drag me through the dark. We exit through a door and hurry down a long quiet hallway, our heels echoing out a staccato rhythm on the concrete floor. Then we’re stopping at a door manned by a security guard. We show him our passes, and as soon as he opens the door, Sebastian’s kick beat hits me in the chest.
It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the dark and the flashing lights. Ashton keeps ahold of my hand, dragging me into the stadium.
And I finally realize where we are: the front row.
“I wanted you to see it firsthand,” she yells into my ear, her voice almost getting lost as Michael’s heavy bass line comes in. “There’s no better way to see the show!”
Ashton flashes her pass at another security guard, and after she says something into his ear, he leads us through the crushing crowd to a spot in the middle of the front row.
And now Dex is standing right in front of me, bathed in strobing lights, his bare arms glittering with a sheen of sweat. A burst of smoke billows up behind the band, and when Dex steps up to the microphone, the crowd goes wild.
