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“You know exactly what you fucking did,” He’s still shouting. “You fucking groped that girl while she was crowd-surfing and unable to defend herself, you sick fuck. You know what, fuck this.” He turns to the other security guys standing around him. “Go ahead and call the police. It’s about to get real fucking messy in here.”
The tall guy only laughs again at this, but it’s enough to tip Cooper over the edge. The next thing I can see through the people crammed in front of me are arms and fists flailing, and others from the crowd are now starting to join in the fray, and it’s starting to look like a free-for-all.
I get jostled into a short girl next to me with bright red hair and then pushed back to the wall where I started, and now I can’t even see Cooper or the asshole he was fighting. Trying to get to him is useless, so I change course and aim for the backstage area. Maybe I can find and help the girl who was involved and whisked away.
I slide along the wall and make it to the hallway leading upstairs to the dressing rooms. With all the commotion happening at the front of the stage, nobody is bothering to watch this area, so I climb up the stairs to see what’s happening.
In the second dressing room, I find a woman with long purple hair and another woman with blonde hair and blue tips comforting the girl from the incident who is curled up on a worn couch.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, though it’s pretty apparent nothing is okay from the looks they all give me.
“I’d like some water if that’s alright,” the girl croaks between sniffles as she lifts curious eyes to me in the doorway. “You’re Sloane Castle.” Her voice holds a note of wonder, as if she can’t believe I’m here, which throws me off for a second.
“I am,” I say, raising an eyebrow at the other two women who stare back at me now with surprise but without saying a word. “I’ll go grab you some water. Just sit tight. I’ll be right back.”
I turn to search for a mini fridge or cooler in one of the other rooms and slam straight into somebody’s solid chest. As my balance slips, whoever I run into grabs me around the waist to prevent me from falling.
It’s Cooper. And the rest of Murderous Crows are right behind him.
“Cooper?” Then, I see the blood all over his shirt, dripping from wounds on his face and hands, and fresh bruises starting to bloom and swell. “Oh my god, are you alright?” I begin frantically patting him down, looking for injuries that might not be obvious.
“I am now. And don’t worry, most of this blood isn’t mine,” he says as he pulls me into a hug and buries his face into the crook of my neck, his breath warm against my skin. He’s trembling from stress, and I squeeze him back. I don’t care that he’s bleeding and sweating all over me. I don’t care that the rest of his band and pretty much everyone else is watching us.
I don’t care about any of it.
I close my eyes and rub his back gently, careful not to touch any areas that might hurt from the melee. It’s hard to tell how badly he’s injured from this vantage point, but I’m happy just to hold him if that’s what he needs.
After a few minutes, he pulls back and looks around. “The girl? Is she okay?”
I look back into the room where she is, and she’s now got water and plenty of people looking after her.
“She’s going to be fine,” I say, leading him to a separate sitting area. “Wait here for a minute. Let me find a first aid kit for you. I think I remember where they keep one here...”
“No. Don’t leave me. Not yet.” He grabs my hand and pulls me down to sit next to him, and when I glance up, I find him smiling at me. “You came.”
“I did.” I can’t help but smile back at him, even though seeing him in such a sorry shape hurts.
“Thank you for showing up,” he says, lifting the back of my hand to his battered lips. “I didn’t expect it to, but it means a lot.”
Something in his eyes melts the ice around my frozen heart when he says this.
Cooper Davies. The Rock God himself is glad I came to his show.
What do I do with that?
seventeen
Tell Me I’m Alive
Cooper
She showed up.
She fucking came to my show.
I still can’t believe it. And I had to go all He-man on some douchebag in the crowd and end the show early. He did deserve it, though, so at least I’m not worried about the press writing a story for once. I hope the police throw the book at him. The scumbag needs to pay for what he did.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sloane asks, running her long, elegant fingers absently through my hair. It feels like heaven, and I could die a happy man right here and now, simply staring at her like this. “I really need to find the first aid kit for you…”
