Page 21 of Don't Think

All I want to do is go home. To hold my girls and pretend this night didn’t happen.

Maybe I’m not cut out for this anymore, just like I was afraid of. Maybe I really did peak at sixteen, and somewhere between then and turning twenty-five I forgot how to have fun without making a complete fool of myself.

At least the rest of the vacation should be smooth sailing from here.

Knock on wood.

Chapter Six

Jax

Man, I almost forgot how wild it feels to be up on stage.

And yeah, I’m acting like it’s been forever when it’s really only been—what, a year? Maybe less. Still, with how fired up the crowd was tonight? It definitely has me even more hyped for the actual tour. Seeing our name on signs, people screaming the lyrics back at us, that’s been the dream since day one. And now that we’re finally getting close? I want it even more.

Tonight was our first time headlining, and honestly, it went pretty fucking well... right up until the last thirty minutes.

Trying to finish the set after spotting Allie on the floor? Brutal. One of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I don’t even know her—not really, anyway—so I don’t get why it hit me like that. But it did. And I swear, it took everything in me not to jump off the stage and find the asshole who hit her, accident or not.

That moment’s stuck on a loop in my head. Allie on the ground, hands holding her head, red hair a mess across her face. The whole place just... froze. Like someone hit pause on the world.

I can’t shake it. And now, I’m stuck on this scratchy-ass hotel sofa, feeling like crap for not doing something about it.

It doesn’t help that she’s the first person who’s ever gotten hurt at one of our shows. And of course it had to beher. The girl I’ve met, what, twice? And somehow, I still can’t form a full sentence around her without sounding like a total loser.

A musician, someone who’s supposed to be good with words, completely speechless.

Yeah. The irony’s not lost on me.

I drag my hands down my face, trying to focus on what the guys are saying while James paces back and forth, carving invisible track marks into the hotel carpet.

“Did you guys see how many people were out there?” he practically shouts, eyes lit up.

He’s moving so fast that I’m surprised he hasn’t faceplanted yet. He’s at least three beers deep, and we’ve only been back an hour. Just watching him is making me motion sick.

Gareth pushes off the sofa, crosses the room in a few quick strides, and throws an arm around James’s shoulders.

“Mate. You’re making me dizzy. Sit your happy ass down,” he says, steering him toward the chair and giving him a firm shove.

Beer sloshes over the rim, splashing onto James’s lap. He swears under his breath, wiping at it with the sleeve of his shirt.

Gareth drops back into the seat beside me, the cushion sinking under his weight. He reaches for his beer, pauses halfway, then turns to look at me with narrowed eyes.

“What?” I ask, my brow furrowing.

A slow smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. He leans back, still watching me like he’s already figured something out. “Who’sAllie?”

Just hearing her name makes the back of my neck heat up. It’s stupid, but for a second, I feel like a teenager again, trying to hide a crush from my best friend, knowing exactly how brutal the teasing’s gonna be if I don’t.

Except it’s not even a crush. Notreally. Maybe more like… an infatuation? But even that feels too strong for whatever this is.

I glance at him and shrug. “What do you mean?”

“The girl who got hit. You said her name over the mic, mate,” he says flatly.

Shit. Yeah, that was probably not my smoothest move. But in the moment, I didn’t care. I just wanted to know if she was okay.

“She was one of the fans we met at soundcheck,” I say, trying to keep my tone as casual as possible.