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“Yes, I’m the twin. Jane,” she offers as I take her hand, shaking it once, noticing the hot pink nails perfectly manicured against my own short, dark self-painted ones.
“Scar,” I introduce myself, but by the sharp, calculated look in her eyes of recognition, I can tell she already knows that.
“Hell of a performance you put on.”
I shift from one foot to the other, uncomfortable with accepting praise from strangers. “Thanks.”
Jane turns her attention back to the stage, gaze bouncing from one of them to the next, pride radiating off her face. I resume watching Walker, chugging from a bottle of water in between songs while Nikolai talks to the crowd. His Adam's apple bobs as the water slides down his throat.
“Did James say anything to you about going out after the show tonight?”
I pause, taking a moment to realize she’s talking about Walker, but she continues before I can say anything.
“Walker,” she states. “Did you not know his first name?” A hint of judgment seeps into the back of her tone.
“No,” I answer, defenses rising. “I knew his first name. Just easy to forget when everyone around here calls him Walker.”
Jane crosses her arms, her gold chain link bracelet catching the light.
“And plus, it doesn't really seem to fit him. Too formal.”
That cracks through her demeanor. “It doesn’t, does it?” She laughs.
The guys start their next song, Nikolai bent at the waist, singing down to a pocket of women in the front row, screaming and reaching their hands toward him.
“And to answer your question, yes, he did. Sounds good,” I tell her.
Jane nods, her attention also tuned on Nikolai, watching the fans practically melt where they stand while he gives them a sliver of his attention.
She clears her throat and brushes her hands down the front of her dress. “I’m going to go down in the pit to watch the end of the set. Care to join?”
I hesitate, wanting to experience the show from all angles, but also wanting to stay right where I am where I have the clearest view of Walker.
Noticing that my focus is back on her brother, with a knowing smile, Jane bids me farewell and takes off around the corner, snagging Arun from his spot in the corner where he’s been working furiously from his phone and pulling him with her.
As they go through their last few songs, I’m surprised at how many I know. Not that I should be, because they’re big radio favorites and have been in the game for a while now. But I mostly stick to listening to music in the genre I write and create in, which means pretty much anything electronic.
But I find myself swaying along to the closing songs, singing along with Nikolai and Reid under my breath, loving the more rock edge their live performance grants to their music.
The final notes ring out, Walker crashing his symbols in rapid succession, lights flashing and hearts pounding. Nikolai swings his arm in a large arch, bringing it down and cutting everyone off, ending the set. Fans roar and cheer, wanting more.
Walker jumps down from his platform and joins the other three at the front of the stage in a bow, before they all pat each other on the back and nudge each other in a job well done as they exit.
Reid and Nikolai are the first to pass me, the heat from their bodies radiating outward, sending goosebumps across my arms. Nikolai shoots me a wink and shakes my shoulder as he walks by.
Hayden and Walker follow closely behind, and Hayden flashes me a smile before looking over his shoulder at Walker with a knowing smirk, then he takes off, following the other two.
Stagehands rush around us, hurrying to switch over the stage in the ten-minute time window they have between Whisper Me Nothings’ set and Boone’s. But they all disappear the second Walker’s eyes lock onto me and he stalks forward with a newfound purpose. And that’s me.
My heart immediately starts pumping hard and fast, palms sweating. He prowls forward and pulls me into his chest, wrapping his arms around my back and picking my feet off the ground. I’m instantly high on his scent, utterly masculine and the sharp undertone of spearmint from his cologne. Trying to hide my long inhale, I bury my face in his neck, damp with sweat but I couldn’t care less. Not when it feels this right to be in his embrace.
His heart is pounding against my chest, and I wonder if he can feel the excitement of my own matching his.
“What did you think?” he asks as he sets me down, but he doesn’t pull back. No, he keeps his arms locked around my neck, causing my head to tip back toward his.
In this position, it feels like nothing in the world can touch me. I’m surrounded by him, protected by him, entranced by him.
I stutter for a moment, not knowing how to put into words how incredible it was to watch him in his element, doing what he was so clearly born to do. My chest hurts with the weight of my awe at watching him perform.
