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Impossible.
Sterling swallowed, trying to bury that thought and the ones that came after as he watched Reese walk away. He liked what she was wearing now. She looked different. Yesterday on the bus she looked like she was going into a corporate office rather than a tour bus. Today she had on worn jeans, sporty sneakers, and a graphic T-shirt. It suited her.
“Yo, Sterling. We going or what?” Moby called. Sterling realized he had been staring after Reese.
“Yep, sure thing.”
He nodded to Moby and started in on a song from the middle of their set. Playing through the intro chords, Sterling was totally aware of where Reese moved in his periphery, filming. It sent a thrill through him and the kind of warm adrenaline that he usually only got when the concerts were packed with fans.
Normally warm-ups were pretty chill affairs, with the energy he hoped for in the actual show not even a ghostly whisper. Sterling played and sang just enough to get the levels correct. They all knew the songs well enough that it wasn’t about practice. But with Reese skirting around them on the stage, Sterling’s chest hummed with the bass and as he stepped to the mic, the familiar rush flooded through him.
Eyes closed and a half-smile on his face, Sterling sang through the first verse and shot right into the chorus of “Unlasting,” the title track of their last album. Normally, he would cut out here during a sound check, but he couldn’t stop. The sound zipped and hummed through him, lighting up his nerve endings and creating an electric trail up from his toes, coming to rest in the very center of his chest. The band followed him, tracking with wherever he went.
The words felt as alive as the music and the emotion he felt when writing made him disappear into the song:
One last drink of your lips
Never enough to slake the thirst
For something more, more than you
I see you, see you move
Right past me to something new
Statue, stone and still I wait
All my loves, colorless and unlasting
The last note hung in the air and Sterling opened his eyes. His breath came heavy, but his heart was light. A smile broke over his face and he turned to find that same look echoed on Moby’s face.
“Dude, you’re on fire. We should let them in now and just go. Think you can hang on to that energy for a few more hours?” Moby asked.
Sterling still smiled. “Maybe. Let’s hope.”
In his ear, Mike gave a low whistle. “That goes on record as the best warm-up to date. Can’t wait for the real show, man.”
Sterling held up a hand toward the sound box. “Thanks, Mike. I’ve got you and autotune to thank.”
Scattered laughter surrounded Sterling as he pulled the guitar strap over his head and handed the instrument to one of the stage guys who would make sure it was in tune. Immediately he scanned the stage for Reese. He spotted her near the side of the stage, a huge smile on her face, typing something into the phone in her hand. She glanced up as though she felt him looking.
The twenty feet of stage between them seemed to disappear. People crossed between them, as stage hands set things up and the other guys in the band walked by, but they weren’t really there. It was only Reese, her gray gaze holding Sterling in place where he stood.
His heartbeat seemed to slow in his chest like a hand was squeezing it. The electric energy from the performance seemed to have shifted and now stretched between them. He couldn’t say what it was about her. Yesterday he had been upset that she was on the bus. Was that just yesterday? He felt shocked by whatever this was. But he knew that the heat that fueled his performance came straight from Reese.
Sterling wanted to cross the stage. He felt compelled to say something or just to touch her hand. It felt like a need, like it would complete whatever circuit this was that had his skin buzzing.
“Sterling!” Morgan’s voice broke through whatever stretched between Reese and Sterling. Morgan launched herself into his arms and he caught her, spinning to keep himself from being bowled over with the momentum. When he turned back, he saw only Reese’s back as she walked off-stage. Disappointment coiled in his belly. He wanted this moment with her.
“That. Was. Incredible.” Morgan’s hair tickled his neck as she spoke and there was laughter in her voice.
“Yeah?” Sterling knew it. He wasn’t trying to be coy, but he simply didn’t know how to respond in words at the moment. His thoughts were zooming too fast, chasing after Reese. But Morgan’s praise warmed him. He tried to shake off the lingering disappointment. He set Morgan back down on the stage. She ran a hand through her hair, grinning up at him.
“I’m so proud of you. I mean, I’ve seen you perform. But just being here in this moment after hearing you play your first chords on that beat-up guitar you got at a garage sale—this is just amazing.”
Sterling realized that her eyes were brimming with tears. Morgan. The straight-shooting, never-back-down woman he’d known since she was just a fiery seven-year-old. The sight had him zeroing in on her. What he really wanted was to go after Reese, just to see that look on her face again. But here was Morgan, his old best friend, looking like she needed him.
“Hey,” Sterling said. “What’s with the waterworks?”
