“Did you even think about the fact that you were in public?” Johanna snaps, starting to sound a lot like Jake. “Did you consider the brand at all before you took your clothes off in the damn parking lot?”
“First of all,” Grayson smirks. “No one’s clothes were off. Technically. Second, it’s not the first time we’ve done something like that. It’s just the first time we’ve gotten caught.”
Jake looks like he’s about to have that coronary right about now, the vein in his head pulsing at an all-time high.
“It’s aband, not an audition for adult filmmaking!”
“The article is actually kind of flattering,” I offer, trying not to laugh. “They called us a power couple.”
“Couple to Watch, sweetheart,” Grayson reminds me. “Don’t forget the honorifics.”
“I thought it was kind of sweet!” Rylee adds. “They called Mia radiant.”
Eric leans across the table from his spot next to Rylee, waving his phone around excitedly.
“Yo, they even mentioned me as something more thanrandom guitar broin this one. I was hot for, like, half a second.”
Jake groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re all going to kill me. I can already feel the press requests piling up.”
“We’ll keep it chill tonight,” Grayson promises, kicking his feet up onto the booth opposite him like he hadn’t just signed Jake into the nuthouse. “Swear to God.”
“You swore that last time,” Jake mutters.
“Okay—swear on Mia’s life, then.”
Tony suggests we sell "Grayson + Mia: Parking Lot Sessions" t-shirts at the merch booth for us to sign after the show. Brandon threatens to design the logo himself. Rylee offers to stage an evenworsephoto next time to desensitize the public. The whole lounge is roasting and I can’t stop smiling at their enthusiasm—until Jake slams down his clipboard again, looking like he’s about two seconds from combusting.
“Do you allwantme to have a heart attack?! This isn’t a joke! We are in the middle of negotiating yourfirst major record deal, and now the narrative is that the front man and his girlfriend-slash-photographer are shooting their first porno in a goddamn parking lot!”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Grayson deadpans.
Jake’s head drops into his hands with an audible groan. “You areruining me, Grayson Harris.”
“And yet… you stay,” Grayson says with a wink.
“Against my better judgment and several warnings from my therapist,” Jake grumbles, tossing the clipboard onto the lounge table. “This is not sustainable, people. I need professionalism. I need boundaries. I need—”
“An outlet for all that pent-up rage?” Brandon suggests, tossing him a box of condoms and a protein bar.
“I need a win,” Jake snaps, slumping into the booth and uncapping a bottle of water.
Eric leans back in the booth again and drapes his arm around Rylee.
“Then you’re in luck,” he says nonchalantly. “We just sold out Miami.”
Jake freezes mid-sip. “...Seriously?”
Brandon hands Jake his phone. “Just got the numbers from the venue. It’s a full house.”
Jake nods slowly. “Okay,” he breathes. “It’s okay, we’re okay, I’m okay.”
“Want a Valium?” Johanna offers.
“I’ll take twelve, thanks,” he mutters, rubbing his temples.
The moment fades into shared laughter, excitement, and the clinking of coffee cups, but I can’t help but notice that Grayson has cooled since the sold-out show got brought up.
The Folly Beach show had been so laid-back, I was onstage with him throughout the whole thing, and the nerves he’d been battling with hadn’t appeared once. But now he’s back in full front man mode, playing the first sold-out arena show of his career.
