Hiding inside myself is how I survived. Barely… I suppose I hid inside myself until the pain became too much to bear, and I tried to end it all.
Everyone but Nash seems to want me to dosomething, but I’m with my bass player. How can I do anything without knowing what the consequences will be?
Look at what already happened with my attempts to gain control over my destiny.
Is this a case of everything will get worse until it’s better? Or will this steer me into self sabotage, and I’ll end up as the cautionary tale everyone already thinks I am?
Will I be able to look at myself in the mirror if I step in line and do what Dickless wants? No. I don’t think I can. I might as well swallow another handful of pills because I’ll effectively have killed off my soul.
“Come here,” Darius says, cutting off my thoughts with his hand held out to me. “You need to get out of your head for a while.”
“Don’t tell her what to do,” Nash snaps.
“Nashy, it’s okay.” I try to soothe his frazzled nerves, but we’re all on edge with what tonight might hold. Maybe we should’ve seen more fans in the meet and greet to keep us distracted.
The venue here has tiny-as-fuck dressing rooms, so we’re stuck hanging out in a communal area, throwing all of our personal pre-show rituals off. Blake is a mess, his usually put together hair is sticking out all over the place with how often he’s run his fingers through it, and he isn’t finding Nash’s joking funny like he usually does. To be fair, Nash isn’t as on his game as normal.
Keaton is probably the only one who isn’t affected, but then again, he doesn’t seem to have any pre-show rituals. Other than sticking to me like glue, which he’s doing.
Being in the large room close to the stage also means the guys can’t be as touchy with me as normal, and Darius gets to play the role of boyfriend.
It all adds together to be a volatile mess waiting to explode.
My fake boyfriend leads me to the couch where he tugs me into his side so we’re cuddling close, making Nash scowl. Dare unlocks his phone and a video automatically starts playing from where he was watching reels.
“The pop star sensation Raina has hit headlines once more, and you’ll never guess what for,” a female voice sounds through the space from a video Darius plays.
“Raina doesn’t like listening to that bullshit,” Blake says without lifting his head from his hands.
Darius glances at my preppy band member as the video continues playing. “She’s breaking the internet as fans everywhere are analyzing her songs, trying to find new meaning to them after the pop star posted a video where she said she really meant the opposite in her lyrics.”
“Sorry,” Dare murmurs, flicking his thumb so a new video plays.
“Oh my god! I thought I loved Raina’s music before, but Hate You So Little is my new favorite song. Her lyrics are way more relatable now.”
“Shit,” he says, swiping again, replacing the fan with a new face.
“Have you guys seen the videos of the fan who claims to be Raina’s best friend? He’s been posting stories from when they were supposedly ki—”
Dare swipes again and a new video starts. “Booktok have you seen this?” Now this is more my speed. Or at least I thought so until she brings up a screenshot of one of our videos. “Do you see this?” she asks excitedly. She zooms in until the Kindle Keaton got me is grainy from how close she got it. “Raina is one of us! What do you think she’s reading? I swear she’s living her best rock star romance life right now. What team are you on? Team Darius? Team Tristan? I’m all the way with #TeamWhyChoose! Give the girl both of those tasty men.”
Darius locks his phone and rubs the back of his neck with the hand he had wrapped around me. “Fuck. I guess I’m a little more locked onto StormChasertok than I thought.”
He gives me the sexiest guilty smirk that makes butterflies swarm in my stomach.
Nash snorts. “Yeah, sure,” he mutters under his breath.
“What’s with the team stuff?” Blake asks, lifting his head.
As much as I’m thankful he’s finally found something to distract him, I really wish he didn’t bring it up. I don’t want to know.
“Yeah, what do they know about Tristan?” Nash adds, perking up. Even Keaton is paying attention.
Dare laughs, his arm moving around my shoulders again where his fingertips draw tiny circles onto my skin. It sends tingles down my spine and makes my nipples get hard. I hope to fuck they don’t show through my costume.
“StormChasertok is split on wanting me to be her boyfriend and some guy posting videos about his groveling tour. There’s even some people on each of your teams.” He’s still holding onto his phone with his other hand and uses it to point at my other guys.
“What in the fuckingTwilightfandom is going on here?“ I growl. Every single one of those fuckers laughs at my distress, even Keaton. None of them get coffee in the morning. Motherfuckers.
