Once I put her down, we continue to linger in each other’s arms for a moment. I pull away just enough to look her over again, because I can’t help myself. Her body’s fucking incredible, and I already can’t get enough. She smiles—shy, but breathtaking—as I take her in.
Those damn green eyes.
The way her hair cascades in waves down her back.
Those fucking lips that are just asking for me to take one in my mouth.
Damn.
How had I missed this when we were younger?
I have to stop my mind from going elsewhere… imagining what it would be like to run my hands all over her, exploring every inch of her body.
“You’re not here just for tonight, are you?” I ask hopefully.
She shakes her head.
Relief hits. Real, deep-in-my-gut relief.
“Good,” I smile, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “Don’t go anywhere.”
Then I run out on stage and pick up my guitar and mic. But my head? My head is still back there with Mia.
Chapter three
"Take It Easy" - Eagles
Mia
The moment Grayson steps out on stage, the energy in the room changes.
The air sharpens. The crowd becomes electric—I can feel it even standing in the safety of the photo pit by the stage. The song’s first chords ring out and the bassline pulsates beneath my feet, and even then, all I can focus on ishim.
I lift my camera instinctively and gaze through the lens, but for a beat, I forget to press the shutter and let my eyes flick back up to the stage. His voice hits the mic like a lightning strike—powerful and unforgettable. Unsurprisingly, it’s deeper now than when we were young. It’s weathered, like something forged from heartbreak that’s grown into something amazing. I’m so entranced by him, I’ve forgotten I’m supposed to be working. I reposition myself behind the lens and begin snapping shots, quickly realizing I’ve found my new favorite subject.
Grayson has always been talented. That much I know. But hearing him now, his voice raw and unfiltered, I realize he’s something more than a singer or a songwriter, or even a performer. He’s a fucking storyteller. A truth-teller. Each lyric drips with pain, desire, and the haunting ache that comes from losing more than you can say out loud.
Suddenly, I want to know everything about him again. Not just the boy I remember from across the street—but themanstanding right in front me.
I start to wonder if Grayson is paying as much attention to me as I am to him—even though it’s my job for the evening—when he makes direct eye contact with me in the pit. My heart stops beating for a moment realizing he’s looking right at me.
“Okay,” Grayson says over the microphone. “For our last one tonight, I’m doing something a little different. There’s someone special watching tonight, and I know she’ll appreciate this. I hope you guys enjoy it, too.”
The rest of the band looks confused as Grayson grabs a guitar case from behind the stage.
Even from the crowd, I can see what it is: the guitar his late father gave him for his tenth birthday that must be close to thirty years old now.
He strums a few chords and begins to sing again. Tony and Brandon come up with a beat to back him, and Eric joins in oncehe realizes what song it is. It’s the same one Grayson used to play on his porch.
“Is he talking about you?” Rylee asks, suddenly appearing beside me.
I nod, beaming. “Yeah. I think he is.”
I lower my camera and let it rest on its harness at my waist. I don’t want to photograph this moment. I want him to keep looking directly into my eyes as he sings this song, to remember the way I look while he sings to me. He can’t do that if I’m looking at him through a lens.
He keeps his eyes on me the whole time, and I try not to melt into a puddle of my own feelings as I’m transported back to another lifetime. The lifetime where I’m the pathetic teenage girl, hopelessly in love with the boy across the street who doesn’t notice me at all.
Except now, hedoesnotice me. He’s looking at me like I’m the only person in a room full of screaming fans. How he’s able to pick me out in the dark, smoky room where I feel like I’m fading into the background, I’ll never know. The look in his eyes makes me wonder if we’ll be able to rewrite the narrative—that we might get a second chance at this now that we’re both grown.
