I chuckle to myself and run my hand through my hair again. “We continued to have these concerts in her backyard. Just the two of us and our stuffed animal audience, it slowly became our thing.” A soft smile tugs at my lips as I recall those simpler days, the music we made under the endless sky.
Closing my eyes momentarily, I can hear the echo of her laughter, the warmth of the sunshine on my skin, and the melody of our youthful dreams.
“I didn’t realize it back then… but Raina was my entire universe. She was this fiery ball of spirit, talent and beauty that shone so brightly in an otherwise dull world. Those early years molded our bond. It was about more than the music we created together; it was about two kids finding solace in each other’s company.”
“The thing is, even then, even at age five, Raina had this magnetic energy about her. You know what I mean if you’ve seen her perform live.” I pause for dramatic effect before continuing. “She was born for the spotlight. But the limelight she craves isn’t always kind.” My gaze wanders over the throng of fans waiting for Raina to light up their world tonight.
“There’s a price to pay for fame. And trust me when I say Raina has paid her dues. I think you can all agree with that if you’ve followed any of the rumors the media has reported about her.
“That’s why I’m risking limb and life out here to share our stories. I want you to fall in love with her all over again through my eyes. To see Raina for the amazing woman she is.”
A group of new fans join the line behind me and cheer as they spot my phone. I spin around to catch their excitement. “The line is growing, and so is the anticipation. Don’t worry, Storm Chasers, we’re all in this together. Wish me luck tonight!”
I turn off the video and quickly add subtitles to it before posting. I’ve started gaining a following, new people pushing that little plus button on the daily. I can only hope that eventually something will lead me to my goal, maybe it’ll even take everything added together.
I’ve got this.
The last five days off were a breath of fresh air, quite literally. We finally got to sit around the fire for a time each day using up the wood the guys chopped. And what’s better than that, we started to bond.
Don’t get me wrong, it felt all kinds of strange without Tristan there, but it was good to immerse myself in all things music. We worked on putting together a few other songs from my notebook. It was a type of therapy I never knew I needed in my life, something I’ve missed dreadfully since Tristan and I parted ways.
It was a reminder of how things should’ve been all along.
On top of it all, the animosity we had toward Darius almost dissipated. There’s still a lingering doubt that sneaks in every once in a while, but for the most part, I’m happy to listen to my gut. The guys have even been friendly with him, letting him join our fun.
Somehow, I didn’t realize how much the tension was affecting me. It’s difficult to live life with a shroud of anxiety pressing inon you. And that’s what it was, anxiety that at any second we’d be betrayed, that anything we said or did would be plastered across the headlines.
Keaton still isn’t talking as much as he was, Darius’ presence having made him retreat back into himself, but that’s just who he is, and I’m okay with that.
I flop onto the couch in the dressing room, resting my head on Blake’s lap. He looks down at me and runs his hand over my wet head. “Really, Bunny? You’re getting my pants all wet.”
It’s hard to believe we’ve had the past five days off with how exhausted I am already. From the moment we pulled up to the venue, we’ve been dragged all over the place.
Dance rehearsals adding in a sequence with Darius and me, sound checks, more dance rehearsals.
Honestly, Blake should be happy I’m fresh out of the shower and not a sweaty mess.
“I’m so tired,” I moan, not wanting to move.
He sighs, threading his fingers gently through my damp hair. “I know,” Blake murmurs, his voice a soothing balm to my weary soul. “But you’re doing amazing.”
His touch is gentle, dare I say loving, as if he understands that this simple act of comfort means the world to me. His fingertips trace a path over my scalp, sending shivers of pleasure along my spine. His other hand comes to rest on my shoulder, grounding me in the familiarity of his touch.
After a few minutes of relaxing, Keaton moves to stand in front of us, his hand held out much like he did the other night. This time he leads me to the chair in front of the dressing table, the bright lights shining in my face. I’d much prefer the destination of the last time—my bed in the back of the bus, darkness of the night, and his arms wrapped around me.
I plonk into the seat, lacking any grace in my body right now. They should’ve thought about this before they wore me out tothe bone with practice before a show. Now I won’t even have the energy to lift the bedazzled microphone they make me hold off and on through the performance.
My poor fans will be so disappointed with my lack of enthusiasm.
Keaton runs a brush through my hair, and I relax into the sensation. I won’t be mad if this becomes a habit. Blinking my tired eyes open, I meet his gaze in the mirror.
I’ve got you, Peaches.
I give him a weak smile. “Thanks, big guy.”
He’s almost finished drying my long blonde strands when Nash comes through the door. His hand is hidden behind his back, and I eye him suspiciously.
“Nashy?”
