I could already read the lie on her lips, but then she surprised me when her shoulders slumped, and the truth came tumbling out.

“Honestly? I’m not sure.” Cringing, she looked ready to take it back and assure me that she could do this.

I knew she could, but clearly, she didn’t.

“Stop.”

I didn’t know what I would do if she lied to me. My hands found her shoulders, where I gripped her tightly. It started as an innocent gesture, but now I was just too tempted. Nevertheless, I forced my hands to stay where they were. I didn’t get many excuses to touch her.

“No one let you have this moment, Fawn. You took it. You showed us what you were made of, and we decided we wanted more. So will they,” I assured her, referring to the crowd screaming our name. “And so do you.”

As if I’d done it a million times, my hands gripped her waist. There was a sliver of bare skin between her top and her pants that burned hot underneath my hands. My thumb absently rubbed the soft skin near her belly button, and even if I wanted to stop, I couldn’t.

“You want this, Brax. I know you do.” It was questionable whether I meant her newfound career or me. “Forget how you got here. All that matters is why you stayed.”

As soon as the words left my lips, I wondered what that reason was. It sure as hell hadn’t been anything we did. Braxton wasn’t motivated by money or fame. Something else had put that determined look in her eyes.

“The rest is just noise,” Loren added as he closed in. I was pulled from my thoughts when Braxton shifted her gaze. “You don’t hear it.”

Straightening, she nodded at Loren and then returned Rich’s smile. When she looked up at me, Braxton no longer looked unsure. I didn’t want to admit what that did to me.

“Great! Braxton’s motivated,” her blonde friend with the big mouth piped in. Sighing, I forced myself to meet her gaze. What was her name again? Gretchen? “But were you giving my best friend a pep talk or copping a feel? I’m confused.” To make her point, Braxton’s friend fixed her gaze on my hands, still gripping Braxton’s waist. My thumb was even still sweeping back and forth.

Fuck.

I took a step back like a kid who’d just been caught stealing from the cookie jar. Loren lifted his chin arrogantly, even while his eyes flashed with jealousy. He was smug because he was right.

I wanted to fuck Braxton.

Loren’s anger was because he believed his childish claim would keep me from acting on it. Rich just looked resigned to breaking up a fight between us at any moment now.

“Let’s go.”

My order broke the tension as everyone shifted gears. The tour had sold out, and right now, they were waiting. We didn’t need any more publicity.

The opening act finished, and immediately, the stage crew began to reset for us. Someone handed me a mic, Loren his bass, Rich his drumsticks, and Braxton a headset since she was backup vocals in addition to playing lead and rhythm. It baffled me that anyone could question why I rode her so hard.

When Braxton checked her tuning and headset, even though we trusted our crew to get it right, I caught my smile before it could slip.

She wasn’t sloppy. I’d give her that.

Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply, scattering my thoughts to the wind. It didn’t matter how many times I took the stage. Each time felt like the first. With a new member, it was more like I was fresh out of my grandmother’s basement.

The apocalyptic backdrop we’d chosen for our stage loomed ahead when the house lights went out, and the screams of eighteen thousand people welcomed Braxton, Loren, and Jericho. I hung back as rehearsed, and while I waited for my cue from Jericho, I watched Braxton closely. No one would ever know she hadn’t done this a million times before.

Wisely, I knew nothing with Braxton was ever that simple. The subtle cues she gave were only obvious to someone who watched her too closely and too often. Right now, she avoided looking at the crowd. It was for the best since picturing them in their underwear was a sham.

Jericho didn’t wait for the screams to die before he started on the drums. He was my timekeeper, telling me exactly when to start and how to end. All the anger he kept inside, desperate to be the nice guy, he always let loose when he was on stage. Gripping the mic, I closed my eyes and let the foundation he set become my atlas. Loren smoothly followed with the bass and Braxton…she blew my fucking mind. Thirty seconds in, once the rhythm was set, I emerged from the shadows and lifted my mic.

How do I silence these whispers

How do I face what I’ve become

Castrated by your whims

I drown in my aspiration

Led astray by beautiful lies

You took my blood, sweat, and tears

Trapped in these walls I built

You filled your rivers raging

I’m so tired of feeding my enemies

I’m numb watching them grow

Why do I continue to kneel

No one’s keeping me down

Taking all of the good

You left me nothing but hate

You want all I have

Watch me start a revolution

We’ve waited (So broken)

To find change (Evoked it)

Do you feel it? (Emotion)

After three months of rehearsing, I thought I’d be used to the chemistry between Braxton’s voice and mine. I realized now how irrational that was—about as insane as being struck by lightning and expecting it not to hurt twice.

It was no wonder she ran her mouth all the time.

She was impossible to ignore.

Calvin had been good, but Braxton’s vocals were infinitely stronger. She had the rare ability to deliver both transparency and power. Our pithy guitarist wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable. After seeing her perform at that festival, I knew she was holding back so as not to drown my own.

As soon as we finished the first song, we launched into the next. The adrenaline had set in, and none of us were willing to lose this rush. No matter how many times my gaze strayed toward Braxton, she never looked out of her element. Eventually, duty was no longer why I couldn’t keep my attention where it should have been.

She had me under her spell.

Our gazes met and held as she played, and I sang along to her rhythm. When it was time to deliver one of our harder riffs, she did this thing with her hair, whipping it before dropping into a crouch and letting the crowd have it.

I preferred to think it was all for me.

Hell yeah.

Usually, I didn’t approve of the showboating, especially from an amateur since it made room for errors, but at this moment, I could deny Braxton whatever she wanted about as well as I could deny my heart its next beat.

I wondered if she’d feel the same if I dropped my mic and hauled her someplace secluded.

Would she deny me?

I wanted it so much that I convinced myself the look in her eyes was daring me to do just that.

Before I did something stupid, I shifted my focus to the crowd and getting through the set. Nothing else mattered except giving these people the show they came for. Screwing my guitarist was a non-fucking-factor.

We blew through our setlist, and the moment we cleared the stage, Loren swooped Braxton into his arms and twirled her around like a lunatic. For once, I wasn’t annoyed by his antics. That show had been one for the record books. Flawless. If anyone had been in danger of screwing it up, it was me.

Her friends stood to the side, impatiently waiting to congratulate her for that perfect performance.

“Braxton whatever-your-middle-name-is Fawn, will you marry me?” Loren shouted after setting her on her feet. To make an even bigger scene, he’d gotten on one knee.

My heart stopped as a frown marred my brow.

I could almost swear Loren was serious. I’d caught the look in his eyes before he remembered he was only joking.

Since we were playing here again tomorrow night, the crew mostly had their hands free to stop and watch if this was real.

“Francesca,” she answered. Or rather didn’t.

“Huh?”

“My middle name,” she clarified. “It’s Francesca.”

That only made Loren’s brows dip further. “Your initials are B.F.F.?”

“Yup.”

Loren stood, signaling that the proposal wasn’t real, which prompted the crew to get back to work. “That’s too bad because I have no interest in being your friend,” he announced, sounding a little too serious for my liking. He looked a second away from defying my decree that Braxton was off-limits and making his move.

Xavier appeared before I could remind him that it wasn’t going to happen. All it did was delay the inevitable since there was always later.

“What the hell are you still doing here?” he shouted. “You only have a short window before that crowd you just finished riling finds you. Get moving unless you want to be followed home.”

With that, he was gone again, and so were we.