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What had I done?
Arlo was standing behind his drum kit, his jaw hanging open. Luca was beside him with an inexplicable thunderous expression.
But it was Kai I was worried about. Kai who looked like he was living his worst nightmare live on stage.
I took a step towards him. The movement caught his attention.
“Kai…”
He didn’t look at me. Didn’t react to me calling him.
Just turned and ran.
I didn’t care that we hadn’t finished our set. Didn’t care that thousands of cameras were catching my every move.
All I cared about was the fact Kai was running from me.
Shoving my bass at Luca, I followed him. “Kai. Wait!”
He didn’t stop. I knew he heard me, though, because his pace sped up.
Cursing his longer legs, I powered through various stagehands and techies as they jumped out of my way. In the distance, I heard Luca speaking into the microphone. I had no idea what he was telling our fans, and right now, I didn’t care.
Kai ran into our dressing room, slamming the door behind him. I was on it in a second, rattling the handle. Fucker had locked me out. “Kai, open up.”
Silence.
I thudded my head against the door. “Don’t shut me out. Don’t hide from me.”
The door opened so suddenly that I fell forwards, stumbling over my own feet.
Kai caught my arm, steadying me. Pulling me into the room, he slammed the door again before letting me go like I repulsed him.
He stood before me, his chest heaving. Sweat from the show glistened on his skin, his shirt askew. Was that from me? Had I been tugging at it?
I looked down at my palms like they might hold the answer for me. Not that it mattered. No doubt, videos of us out there were currently going viral on every social media network available.
“Why did you do that?”
Kai’s question had me looking up. Raw emotion swam over his face. His nostrils were flared. His jaw clenched. “What?”
He prowled a step closer, towering over me. I wasn’t scared though. How could I be? This wasKai.My Kai. “Why. Did. You. Kiss. Me?”
Why was he so angry? “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” He shoved his dreads back, using the tie on his wrist to pull them into a bun. It was something he did when he was agitated.
I hated that I was making him feel that way.
He was no longer looking at me, his scowl on the floor. God, I’d let him down so much. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for? Kissing me, or not knowing why?”
“The first one,” I blurted. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. I took it too far.”
“Took theacttoo far, you mean,” he laughed sourly, grabbing the back of his neck.
“No, that’s not—” That wasn’t what I’d meant. I’d meant I’d taken it too farin front of an audience.I hadn’t meant to embarrass him.
