Page 54 of Rebooting Conor Flynn

I scrambled away from my perch in the wings and picked my way over cables and wires and speakers and random set pieces to burrow to the back of the stage.

From a safe spot, I heard the announcer yell out Conor’s name and the answering roar from the crowd. Without saying a word, Conor launched into an upbeat song from his third album. His voice caused goosebumps to pebble my arms.

I shuffled to a dark alcove, tucked next to a heavy curtain. I collapsed in a camp chair and closed my eyes, allowing Conor’s music to wash over me.

By the time the band played the opening chords of the Five2Go song, the audience reached even higher levels of excitement. Conor barely had to sing. The fans did all the heavy lifting for him. But I could still hear his voice, clear and strong, above the screams and the adoration.

As the song ended, and the crowd called for an encore, I heard whispering and shuffling from beyond the curtain I’d pulled around my chair. Leaning forward, I hooked my finger on the edge of the velvet material and pulled it to the side.

The shadow of a couple in a clinch played across the back wall, and I let the curtain fall back into place. I had no interest in spying on another couple after what I’d been through with Conor.

Conor went back on stage to sing his encore song—another Five2Go hit. I blew out a long breath. At least I didn’t have to listen to the lyrics of No Contact again. How could he have written a song based on lies? Did he really believe I didn’t text him? How was that even possible? Maybe he forgot about my texts in the excitement of the Australia tour and somehow created a new reality where he got to be the nice guy.

I poked my head out of my little nest to make sure the kissing couple had moved on, and then I yanked back the curtain and returned to stage-right.

As I dropped into my chair, Conor approached with a bottle of water in his hand and sweat trickling down the side of his face. “How’d I sound?”

“You were great—as always. You added a second Five2Go song.”

He shrugged off the open button-up shirt and blotted the back of his neck with it, leaving his damp, white tank clinging to his body. “Thought it might...I don’t know, make your job easier.”

“You should be all about making your own job easier. Odyssey was happy with one song. If you don’t feel comfortable doing it, cut the second.” He should stop trying to take care of me. Too little, too late.

“Did I sound uncomfortable doing it? Honestly, it felt good. Maybe because I’m getting pumped up for the possibility of a reunion tour with the lads.”

I nodded. “Happy to hear it, but don’t do any more Five2 songs on my behalf.”

He rolled the water bottle across his forehead. “I talked to Ashley when we got back to the hotel. Turns out she didn’t even go out last night.”

“D-did you ask her about the setup? I saw her at coffee this morning, and she didn’t even seem mad about the pictures.”

“She denied steering us wrong. Wondered aloud to me what she’d get out of it.” Conor scratched the scruff on his chin. “I’m beginning to think the same, as she didn’t look at those pictures and run to the celebrity press outlets about how she was being manipulated into a relationship with me.”

I shifted out of the way as the stage crew moved in to set up the last piece for Ashley’s performance. “I also talked to Shanice, and she said Ashley wasn’t even the one who told her about the get-together. It was Tomo.”

“Tomo, huh?”

Conor’s gaze tracked to the dancers warming up on the other side of the stage.

We both jumped when Ashley squeezed between us and draped her arms over both our shoulders. “Fantastic show tonight. Ji-yoon is a breath of fresh air, and you killed it Conor. That second Five2Go song had all the girlies wetting their panties. My turn!”

She blew past us and sprinted onto the stage in five-inch heels, leaving the scent of her heavy perfume hanging over us.

I clapped and whistled as she took the stage and leaned in to yell in Conor’s ear. “She’s in a good mood tonight.”

He gave me a thumbs up, as he watched the opening number unfold, the dancers circling Ashley as she belted out her biggest hit. Two of the male dancers hoisted her onto their shoulders and carried her across the stage.

Conor shook his head. “Not my thing, but I’m glad she’s happy and thriving. I’m going back to the hotel if that’s okay with you.”

“Congrats on a great show. Onto Phoenix tomorrow.” I waved him off. I didn’t need anyone else taking pictures of us.

The comments about the photos last night poured in all day. The verdict was split just about fifty-fifty between those who believed we were having a lovers’ quarrel and the other side who thought maybe we hated each other or even that I was jealous of Ashley.

Whatever. As long as Ashley and Conor played nice for the paps, we could get through this.

Ashley’s performance ended, the stage went dark, and the roadies started breaking down the set. Another successful show.

Cars waited to take some of us back to the hotel, and Ashley grabbed my arm, digging her nails into my flesh. “Ride back with me in the limo, Noelle.”