Page 25 of Layla

The relief in the room is palpable. Everyone looks a hell of a lot more relaxed, including Layla.

“Thanks, man,” Lance says. “Really.”

“We appreciate it,” Dylan agrees.

“All right, don’t go making him think we like him or something,” Haylee says, and they all laugh, even Louis.

“If you’re done being moody little divas,” he says, pointing to the door. “There are thousands of fans out there waiting for you to get off your asses.”

* * *

I spendthe first set the way I always do, walking around the stage, trying to keep my eye on a hundred different things at once. The crowd is raucous tonight, pressing in on the barriers as they try to get closer to the stage. The burly bodyguards that make up the venue security don’t look very phased as they form a wall in front of the stage, but I’m definitely sweating it. It’s hard to keep track of a mob like this, and it’s stressing me out.

I’m hoping that Eddie forgot about our agreement when the band takes their first break but he comes to find me backstage just as soon as they head out for their second set. “I’ve got this,” he tells me. “Take a breather. Watch them play.”

I want to argue with him, but I think about the teasing, happy look in Layla’s eyes and the way she had made me shake on our agreement. Pissing her off won’t do me any good. So I nod at Eddie and step into the wings to watch a few songs.

It’s immediately obvious to me why their crowd sizes have been exploding throughout the tour. As Layla so kindly pointed out, I don’t really know a lot about music, but even I can tell that they’re good. Really good. There’s a tightness to their sound, a polish that I wasn’t expecting to hear in a venue like this. The five of them obviously have amazing chemistry together. In spite of their argument earlier, they now appear to be having a blast with each other. Haylee leans against Dylan, belting her heart out while he attacks his guitar. Later she bounces over to Lance on the piano, pounding her fingers on the keys right alongside his while he laughs up at her. James is definitely the most stoic of the bunch, but even he’s grinning broadly and when Haylee approaches him with her microphone, he joins her and Dylan as they jump up and down to the rhythm of the song.

The rhythm that’s being perfectly maintained by Layla on her drums. It’s hard to take my eyes off of her. Her arms are basically a blur as she pounds away and for the first time I realize how toned they are. She seems so powerful sitting up there on stage, setting the tone for the whole band, beating the hell out of those drums. She’s strong and in control and it’s really fucking hot, to be honest.

Even better, she looks so happy. In the week or so that I’ve known her, I’ve never seen Layla look quite like this. I can’t see any of the stress or exhaustion that have been haunting her over the last few days. She’s grinning at her band, grinning at the crowd, singing her harmonies with Haylee, laughing at Dylan as he jumps and dances around the stage.

She’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before, confident and capable and so damn sexy, and I can’t seem to tear my eyes away. I’m still staring at her long after Eddie returns from his shift making the rounds. Long after I should have gone back to work. Long after it’s safe to be doing so. But I can’t seem to look away, even when I know I should.

And that should scare me a lot more than it does.