But this time, I was smooth as fuck with the snap decisions, something I never could’ve been capable of if I wasn’t sober. I’m actually really proud of how I was able to keep singing through the fall and then continue without missing a beat when I was back firmly on my feet. Add to it the change of having Darius step into the choreography.
My steps feel light as we leave the venue, making our way to The Storm. Fans cheer as they try to get my attention and security holds them back. I’m too happy with the performance, which is why I make a rash decision to do something I never do—I stop to interact with the fans.
Reaching for an album someone holds out in hopes I’ll sign it, a new wave of excitement rolls through the crowd. “Oh my god! Raina, you’re my favorite singer! I love your music so freaking much!” they say, handing over a sharpie for me to sign with.
I smile and hand the album back before reaching for a bobblehead of me holding a microphone. It’s so damn cheesy I have to hide my wince at seeing it. “You’re so talented! Your voice is amazing!” the owner says when I hand it back.
“Can I get a selfie with you?” someone down the line screams as I hand the sharpie back to the first girl and continue walking.
“Did you enjoy the show?” I ask everyone as I wave past a section of fans. There’s an overwhelming response of people cheering.
Reaching the person who asked for a selfie, they bite their lip before pointing and saying, “Can he be in it too?”
Searching for where their finger leads, my gaze slides past a scowling Keaton, and Nash with his arms crossed, to find Darius smiling and waving to the fans, chatting them up. It surprises me that he’d so seamlessly slip into the razzle dazzle of adoration that comes with fame.
“Dare?” The nickname slips from my lips before I even think about it, but it seems to fit the handsomely dark British god.I’m not sure how he even heard me say it, he’s not that close and there’re so many people screaming around us. He turns and cocks an eyebrow. It sends a rush of attraction through me that I do my best to ignore. Pointing to the fan, I tilt my head and say, “Picture?”
“Absolutely. Here, let me.” He reaches for the phone from the fan and presses in on my other side. His hand comes around my hip and secures me close to him. He holds out the device and we all smile for the picture before he hands it back. “Make sure you tag us in that.”
I’m surprised when he doesn’t drop his arm, instead using it to usher me along.
“You guys are so cute together!”
“Is he the band member you’re dating?”
“How long have you been together?”
“The cutest Valentine’s Day couple ever!”
The phrases hit me like a slap across the face. Why are people such assholes ready to jump to conclusions so quickly?
“You haven’t interacted with your fans in a long time,” Darius says to me. “It’s nice to see you doing it again.”
We reach the bus and he walks away with a wave, stopping me from my scoff. How would he even know that?
“Where are you going?” I call out, not that I care. I shouldn’t, right?
“After party,” he responds with a shrug. “It’s Valentine’s Day after all, bound to be a good night.” He winks, but it only makes me frown this time. Is he talking about finding an easy hookup? “Plus, I think whichever one is your boyfriend is about to blow up if I’m around you any longer.”
Keaton steps into my line of sight, gaining my attention. “In,” he growls, opening the door to the bus. His body vibrates so much I wouldn’t be surprised if he isn’t a second away from picking me up and shoving me in.
“What’s wrong?” I step onto the first level of the stairs and catch the back of Darius’ sweatshirt as he swaggers to one of the fleet vehicles ready to take everyone to the after party. Thank god I don’t have to go.
Keaton’s hand lands on my lower back, urging me to go faster so the rest of them can get on and close the door, shutting us out of view from everyone else.
“Ugh, that asshole was eating up the attention. I don’t like how he’s moving in on you,” Nash says, his stomping footsteps adding to how annoyed he is. He opens the fridge and grabs a few bottles of water, then hands them out. “Get hydrated, roomie.”
I can’t help but laugh at the sincerity with which he says it. “Why?” Keaton’s front presses to my back as he reaches around me. He takes the lid off the water bottle and tilts it to my mouth. “Okay, okay, I’ll drink.”
“It seems pretty obvious to me,” Nash answers. “You heard Darius; he won’t be back for a while.”
I’m still lost to what he means. I study him, trying to figure it out as I drink half the bottle in an attempt to hydrate after an exhilarating show. It’s been so long since they’ve cheered like that. Slowly, my gaze moves to Blake, who’s watching me as carefully as I am him.
“I believe Keaton means to remind you whose girl you are,” Blake tells me. I almost choke on my water, not expecting him to say that. It almost seemed like the bus was an area we were trying to avoid being intimate, although that’s probably because we didn’t want to give Darius anything he could pass on to Dickless. Or worse, the media. He still hasn’t shown where his loyalties lie.
“Plus, it’s Valentine’s Day. We need to shower our girl with orgasms if we aren’t able to wine and dine her like she deserves.” Nash smirks and licks his lip ring.
Keaton returns the cap to the bottle and puts it on the counter as Nash hits play on his phone that’s hooked up to the bluetooth speakers. House music runs through the bus as Blake flips the switch, plunging the room into darkness while simultaneously activating the soft, glowing ambient lighting.
