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I quickly point out her spot and get Stu, one of the backstage guys, to walk her to the seat since I can’t go out there or I’ll be swarmed.
I don’t watch from behind the curtain to make sure she gets to her seat safely. I also don’t watch her hips sway as she walks away, and I definitely don’t groan when she licks her lips and laughs at something Stu says when she gets to her seat.
Nope. I don’t do any of that at all.
Okay, so I do all of it. But I’m not acting on anything, so I haven’t harmed our just friends status.
The show goes off without a hitch. The audience energy is at an all-time high, and we laugh more than we have at our past couple of shows almost entirely due to the great audience. By the time the show ends, I’m drenched in sweat but feeling high on life.
I’ve never done drugs, but this is always what I imagine the high feels like. Sometimes, I can even understand why my mom chose it over us. It’s fucking addicting.
But then Becka walks backstage, her smile bright enough to light our entire show, and I realize I can’t understand my mom at all. Because this high? It’s nothing compared to what Becka makes me feel.
Adding the two together? It’s fucking dangerous. It makes me want things I know I shouldn’t. It makes me want to say, “fuck it” and kiss her hard, making up for our horribly sloppy first kiss when we were fifteen.
“You guys! That was amazing! I have goosebumps from how good you were.” Becka holds her arm out and sure enough, little goosebumps sprinkle her skin. Kasen wraps his arm around her neck and pulls her head against his soaked shirt, and I have to laugh at the disgusted face she makes, even if it pisses me off that he touches her so freely.
I told them she was off-limits. Kasen needs to cut that shit out.
“Kase, you fucking stink.” She pushes out of his hold, and he throws his head back in a boisterous laugh.
“Part of the gig. No one said it was glamorous. This is the sign of a hard night’s work. Now it’s time to let loose and celebrate.”
Miles and I exchange a look, both of us still worried about Kasen and whether or not he’s using drugs again.
“Well, don’t let me keep you from your shower, because you definitely need it,” Becka says, her voice light and teasing, even if her nose is still wrinkled and her lips slightly pursed to suggest she’s not entirely joking.
“Give me ten minutes and then I want to show you something,” I tell her, nerves swirling in my belly because I’ve never told anyone besides the band about my post-show tradition.
“Okay. I’ll wait here with Robbie and Jo.”
* * *
“So, where are we going?”
“It’s just around the corner.”
I look over in time to see Becka look out the window at the residential neighborhood, her expression curious. Hopefully she doesn’t think I’m lame that I don’t go straight to an after-party after each show. After two more blocks, I turn right and stop in front of a local park.
Becka turns to me, a question in her eyes.
“Like the other guys, my body is always buzzing with adrenaline after a show. Tristan blows off steam by finding a random hookup. Kasen parties, and Miles usually smokes some weed and hangs out with whoever’s available or goes home and watches a comedy special. I do this.”
“Come to a park at night like a creeper?” she asks hesitantly.
I can’t help but laugh at that. It does seem a little weird. “Come on, I’ll show you.” We get out of the car, and I grab her hand as we walk toward the playground. I don’t even think about the action, but it feels right the minute her hand is enfolded in mine.
“No one’s ever around after our shows since it’s so late. I have the whole place to myself,” I explain to her. “There’s always a park in every city we go to, so it’s something I can do anywhere we go. But it has to have one specific trait.”
“What’s that?”
“A swing set,” I say with a huge grin and pull her directly to two swings.
We sit down, and I immediately push off and kick my legs back working on building up my momentum until I’m going higher and higher, matching the adrenaline still thrumming steadily through me. Becka swings gently next to me, her eyes watching me intently.
“I swing as high as I can go and then…” Using the momentum I’ve built up, I swing high and jump off when I reach the highest point. My feet land with a thud against the bark mulch, and I throw my hands up in the air like I’m some kind of Olympic gymnast who just stuck his landing. I turn around to face Becka, my heart in my throat expecting her to laugh at me, even as the adrenaline from the show still simmers in my system.
Becka’s green eyes are soft as she stares at me. Something shifts in her gaze, and suddenly the air between us feels charged. Then she smiles, and I release the breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding.
