Page 13 of Don't Think

“No. We're not,” she admits, sounding disappointed. She clicks her tongue. “But hey, you’re laughing. And it’s your turn.”

She spins me around by the shoulders, and suddenly I’m met face-to-face with a middle-aged man twice my size with a beer belly and a long, wiry beard.

I freeze, tickets fanned out like playing cards in my hand.

Before I can think to take a step forward, Ana gives me a quick shove, and I stumble right into him.

He doesn’t even budge before giving me a slow once-over, his eyes dragging down my body and lingering too long on my chest. The smirk that creeps onto his face makes my skin crawl.

And just like that, I instantly regret the leather pants and corset situation. What the hell was I thinking?

Oh, that’s right. I wanted to stand out instead of being a damn wallflower.

Congratulations, Allie. Mission accomplished.

I force myself to swallow past the discomfort and clear my throat to try and redirect his eyes back to mine. It takes him a solid three seconds longer than it should, but eventually he looks up and, without a word, holds out his hand.

That’s it. No smile, no greeting. Just an open, expectant palm.

And just like that, I know exactly how tonight’s going to go.

Chapter Four

Jax

There’s nothing like sitting on top of an amp before a show.

James and I started this ritual back when we first formed Bottom Line. We would sit side by side, just trying to kill time before we had to play each set. The only thing different now is that this time it’ll be in front of a few hundred people.

Am I pumped? Yeah, for sure. Who wouldn’t be?

But am I also nervous since it’s been a minute since we’ve played a live set? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Heavy footsteps hit the stage, and I don’t even have to look to know it’s Don. I can practically hear his scowl from here in the way his boots drag across the wooden floor.

“Alright, you guys have…” He checks his watch. “Five minutes until doors open.”

I hop down from the amp and take a sip from my water bottle, letting it sit in my mouth for a second like somehow that’s going to calm my nerves.

We’ve done shows before, sure—but ameet-and-greet? This is brand new territory for us. We were never big enough for anyone to care about those. It wasn’t until we got invited on the Overcast Summer Tour last year that people even started paying attention to our music.

It was like someone flipped a switch. One minute, no one knew who we were, and the next, our very rough, halfway decent track was playing on the radio that we sent them only months before. And by we, I really mean James since he’s the one who decided we needed a social media page for the band and needed to send the radio stations our one and only track.

I didn’t think we were ready for all that, but James shoots for the stars or nothing. Someone has to be the positive ray of sunshine of the group, since it sure as hell isn’t going to be me. If it were up to me, we’d probably still be playing in shitty pubs with overpriced beer and sticky floors due to my constant, debilitating fear of rejection.

So knowing we’re about to interact with a sea of strangers for the first time? Yeah, I’m a little frazzled right now.

At least it’s only this one show, and then we can go back to doing nothing for the rest of the month.

“This is gonna be so fun,” James says with a grin, running in place so fast it makes my head spin.

It’s really no wonder he’s become the fan favorite. This kid has more energy than the four of us combined. I mean, it’s not like I really mind. That just means I can count on him to rile up the crowd while I focus on actuallyplaying.

He finally stops running, but now he’s shaking out his hands like he’s about to run another marathon. “How many people do you think are showing up?” he asks, eyes wide with excitement.

I shrug. “Don said a few for the meet-and-greet, and maybe a couple hundred tickets sold in total? Guess we’ll find out.”

The doors slam open, the sound echoing through the empty venue so loud it makes my nerves and adrenaline crash into each other. My stomach twists violently, and I still can’t tell if it’s from excitement or maybe anxiety. More than likely a mix of both.