Page 38 of Collide

“You’re always putting me off,” she says, wide eyes staring at me. They’re glassy and intense, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think she was drinking. She sipped some wine before we left for the concert but didn’t even finish half a glass. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you don’t really want to be with me.”

What the hell? I stare back at her. “Are you crazy?” I snap. Her fingers fist into balls at her sides, and her eyes narrow.

“Never call a pregnant woman crazy, Gage.” Her comment drips with anger, and I’m growing irritated myself.

“Then don’t act like a crazy person,” I shout, the music taking a dip and the words coming out extra loud. Petty singsongs, “Uh-oh,” like a middle schooler, and Jared chokes on a sip of his beer. Ivy huffs, and I swear smoke is going to come out her ears at any moment. “Of course, I want you.”

In fact, I want her so much, I’m losing my resolve. Every time her mouth hits mine or another body part, I want to give in to her, but I won’t. Not yet.

“Then I don’t understand why you won’t take me.”

I can’t believe she wants to have this conversation here, now, during this concert of all places, but I’m getting pissed off.

“Because I’m not having sex with you until you marry me.” The music selects that moment to drop again, and the silence surrounding our table is louder than the crowd.

“What?” Jared asks.

“Dude,” Petty hisses.

Ivy just stares at me, wide-eyed with shock. “You can’t be serious.”

“Dead,” I say, realizing too late it’s a poor word choice. Ivy blinks once, blinks again, and then spins on her heels, pushing her way through the crowd. I don’t follow. I need a moment. The look on her face at my admission was pure horror and fright. As if marrying me would be the last thing she’d ever consider.

“Dude, you haven’t tapped that?” Petty asks in surprise.

“Shut the fuck up,” I bark, reaching for his beer and downing it. I don’t have time to order another drink as I already finished mine.

“Gage, you should go after her. She shouldn’t be jostled in this crowd.” Fuck. Jared’s right. Why does he always have to be the responsible one? I press off the table and shove my way through the people. With all eyes on the stage, the fans aren’t too happy with someone they think is stage-rushing, and since Ivy’s short, it’s as if she disappeared.

When I find a backstage entrance near stage left, Tommy stands just inside the hall talking to a man in his early thirties with pretty boy blond hair and a mischievous smile.

“Kaye, this is Gage,” Tommy introduces, and I reach out to shake the hand of a man who says, “Hey. Manager of the Nights. Lawson here was just telling me all about you guys.” I pump his hand once, surprised at Tommy’s kind gesture.

“Tommy,” Tommy corrects.

“Right. Forgot.” Kaye looks sheepish as he swipes his fingers through his hair. He looks more like a boy band member than a rock band manager. “So you wanna hop up on stage?”

Is he kidding me? Play with the Nights? Is this a dream? Then I remember Ivy. “I’d love it, but hey, have you seen Ivy?” I address Tommy. “I think she came back this way.”

“Yeah, bathroom backstage.” Tommy motions with his head but doesn’t move, and I’m not fast enough to come up with an excuse to get back to her.

“So the guys break in twenty. Let me see what Arturo thinks. I bet he’d love to have you join him for one run.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Sing with Arturo King? “I’m such a fan,” I say, sounding like the fan girls when they approach us.

“Okay,” Kaye says, his smile growing as he claps me on the shoulder. “Hang right here.” Kaye walks away, and I glance over at Tommy.

“Holy shit. Did that really happen?”

“It did, kid. Now you want to explain why my niece came backing here, looking hell-bent on setting something on fire?”

I twist my lips, uncertain how to explain myself. Should I just blurt out I want to marry her like I did to her? Thankfully, Tommy doesn’t make me answer as he nods down the hall. “Last door before the curve.”

I pat his shoulder as I pass him, closing the short distance at a slight jog. I’m amped from fighting with her and then the offer from Kaye. I bang on the thin door.

“Occupied,” she calls out.

“Open up,” I demand. I wait a second. And then another second. I’m weighing my options of kicking in the door, hurting her, and losing my chances at singing with Arturo when the door opens. Her face looks ashen, but she hasn’t been crying. I press the door forward, ushering her backward. There isn’t much space in the one toilet, one sink room. I close the door at my back and lock it. Ivy and I stand on opposite sides of the small room. Her eyes lower.