Page 72 of Unfinished Noise

He didn’t run, but he walked faster than usual, weaving past equipment cases and crew members until he finally reached him.

Jamie’s smile widened when Spencer approached, and something in him finally loosened. The noise of the crowd behind him dropped from a roar to a distant hum, as if someone had turned down the volume. Sweat cooled on his skin, the dust in the air stopped clinging to his throat, and the last bit of tension in his shoulders eased. Even the weight of his guitar strap—still hanging from one hand—stopped digging into his palm. The chaos of the concert didn’t disappear, but it shifted, settling into the background the moment Jamie looked at him.

“Hey,” Jamie said.

Spencer exhaled, relieved. “Hey.”

He didn’t care that he was sweaty, dusty, or still buzzing from the show. He cared that he was finally close enough to touch Jamie again.

For a second everything around the fans, crew, noise—blurred out. Jamie’s face lit up in that soft way Spencer loved, the kind that made his chest feel too full.

“You survived,” Jamie teased.

“Barely,” Spencer said, brushing his thumb over Jamie’s shoulder before security waved them toward the vans.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Spencer

They all piled in, Alfie and Jamie taking the back seat together. Spencer glanced over his shoulder once, catching Jamie’s eye. Jamie gave him a small, private look—something warm, something that made Spencer want to climb over the seats and sit beside him. But Nathan was talking Spencer’s ear off, and the van was packed, so he settled for the occasional glance back.

Jamie and Alfie were laughing about something—probably the crowd, probably the chaos. Spencer couldn’t hear the words, but he heard Jamie laugh, and that was enough to make the ride feel shorter.

By the time they reached the hotel, they dragged themselves through the lobby, up the elevator, and down the hallway. Alfie and Nathan peeled off to their room with a dramatic groan about needing sleep.

Spencer unlocked his door, and Jamie slipped inside with him. The second the door shut, Spencer felt the weight of the day settle into his muscles. “I need a shower,” he said, already tugging off his shirt.

Jamie flopped onto the bed. “Go. You smell like a stinky concert.”

Spencer snorted. “You love how I smell after a concert.”

Jamie grinned. “Yeah, but I’m still allowed to make fun of you.”

Spencer shook his head, amused, and headed into the bathroom. The hot water felt incredible washing off sweat, dust, and the lingering adrenaline. He took a quick shower because he didn’t want Jamie waiting long.

When he stepped out, towel around his waist, Jamie was sitting cross‑legged on the bed with two small hotel glasses and a bottle of something he’d grabbed from the minibar.

Jamie held up a glass. “I poured you one.”

Spencer’s chest warmed. “Thanks.”

He climbed onto the bed beside Jamie, still damp, still tired, but comfortable in that way he only ever felt around him. They clinked their glasses lightly.

Jamie took a sip. “You were amazing today.”

Spencer leaned back against the headboard. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Jamie said. “The crowd lost its mind.”

Spencer smiled, letting the praise sink in. “I kept trying to get to you afterward.”

Jamie laughed softly. “I saw. You looked as if you were trying to escape a swarm of bees.”

“It felt like that,” Spencer admitted. “I only wanted to get to you.”

Jamie’s expression softened, and he nudged Spencer’s knee with his own. “Well, you’re here now.”

Spencer took a slow sip of his drink, letting the warmth spread through him. “Yeah. Finally.”