Page 101 of Just Wait

They really are sexy as sin and sweaty as can be. Even if it’s cooling off outside, they still seem to end every show soaked with sweat. Not that I’m complaining. I’d be completely content if they wanted to trap me in the middle of a hug from all three of them.

Okay, that’s a weird thought.

Riser leads the song in with low, pounding beats on his drums.

Tennyson joins him, and for a crazy amount of time, it’s just the two of them. Malcolm is next, and Kincaid comes in, in this sensual, gravelly tone that matches the haunting beat.

They do way more old-school rock than Tangled Desires, but they also have a few songs that probably qualify as metalcore.

Peeking out toward the audience, I’m not shocked to see there’s a huge crowd up by the security fence.

Hopefully Wren and her brother are somewhere safe. I remember how chaotic it was being trapped out there in the crowd.

As the song picks up, I find myself swaying to the beat. The fans sing along, and it truly is magical, especially with the way the lights and pyrotechnics sync with the song.

It’s crazy to think that Andrew wrote this one.

All of their songs, if what Malcolm implied was true.

An incredible song is subjective, so the listener can apply their own meaning, but this one seems pretty evident to me.

It’s all about the ghosts of the past and seeing echoes of who a person used to be. Only, when they look at a picture or video, they’re acutely aware that’s not who they are anymore.

How someone can get to a place where they don’t recognize their own reflection. All while knowing how far they’ve fallen.

It’s actually really beautiful, but you can tell it was written from a place of pain.

The guys say their goodbyes and make their way offstage.

“Hey, baby doll.” Malcolm makes it to me, and the smile on his face is contagious as he wraps me in his arms.

“Give me your mixers before you lose them again,” one of the sound guys says.

“That does sound like something I would do.” Mal chuckles good-naturedly and moves around, pulling them out and handing them off. “Sorry, Lulu. What was I saying?” He kisses the side of my head, giving me a squeeze. “Oh yeah, did you enjoy the show?”

“I did,” I assure him, rubbing my face around his sweaty shirt with little concern to whether he’ll end up covered in my makeup. “It was amazing. You guys always put on a killer performance.”

“Looking over and seeing you watching was my favorite part,” he says, sounding so sincere that my chest flutters.

“Yeah?”

“Yup.” He dips his head to mine, and I stretch up on my tiptoes to meet him. As his stormy, electric scent hits my nose, I whimper against his lips.

Jesus.

I like him so much, but I’m not sure the time is right.

Rebound relationships never last.

Right?

Chapter Twenty-Six

Lumen

The greenroom is packed with people, and Kincaid and Malcolm haven’t even made it back from handing off their stage clothes.

Parish is next to me on the couch, cutting up lines. Tennyson stands by Rhys and Wren.