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He huffed, his eyebrows drawing together slightly. "We tried. I didn't start running until after our first big Europe tour. That's when I realized I was having panic attacks somewhere deep inside my body. It felt like my skeleton was trying to fight out of my own skin."
A pained expression crossed his face as he continued, "The worst one happened before our first show at the O2 Arena— big stuff. As musicians, this is what we grew up hearing about, this is what we told our parents we wanted to be. So, I was getting ready for the show while I was dry-heaving air because I hadn't eaten all day— I was so nervous. My head was in the toilet until fifteen minutes before I went onstage." He shook his head, incredulous at the memory.
"I was shaking and my brain wouldn't stop. I felt like everything was slipping away from me even though I knew this is what I wanted."
"So, what happened then?" I prompted gently.
Vince sighed heavily, relieved to finally tell someone about it all these years later. "Finally, Priya made me choke down a stale croissant and a Xanax. I played the show propelled by the sheer relief that I wasn't shitting myself onstage."
I thought of Vince's main-lining antacids before every show now and couldn't help but marvel at how seemingly unfazed he seemed by performing on such a large scale— nothing like the anxious wreck he just described himself as being moments ago.
"But you seem so confident on stage now," I note, recalling how he played a sold-out amphitheater for fifty thousand people last night without batting an eyelash.
Vince nodded confidently and smiled knowingly at me. "Let's just say that Priya showed me how to handle stage fright."
Then he shrugs. "You know the old saying 'Fake it 'til you make it'? Well, Henry's mum Lucy, who was at the show that night is an elementary school gym teacher. She told me to go for a run when I feel anxious - which I’ve been doing ever since. It’s not as grand as being a track star but I accept that you're the cool one in that respect." He laughed, then finished off his water bottle.
He pauses, studying the scratched black metal arms of the bench, refusing to meet my gaze. Again, Vince is the last personI would describe as vulnerable. Part of me is stunned he opened up to me in the first place. Even weirder, I know how he feels.
"I get it, though. It's hard to feel calm on tour because it changes quickly."
Vince glances over at me and grins slyly. He reaches over and detaches a sweaty piece of hair clinging to my bottom lip.
My stomach jumps as he rests the pads of his fingers on my bottom lip, calloused and warm. He runs his thumb along my jaw and stares at me, not in an investigatory way like he's trying to figure me out, but like he sees me. The recognition that floods my body is heady and warm; I move to kiss him again before stopping myself.
Vince sighs. "That and the fact that I'm plagued by the incessant fear I'll ruin everything good that ever happens to me," he laughs humorlessly. I find myself nodding.
"Honestly, same here. I mean, I recognize that as far as my life goes, things have worked out pretty well. But there's always this lingering fear that if I—I dunno. It's like if I want something or someone badly enough, then it'll be doomed from the start because I want it so badly. If I admit I want someone, I'm relinquishing control. It's like I'm giving the universe permission to fuck with me, and that's terrifying because my life feels so precarious. Until this tour, I was one bad tour away from moving back in with my mom, y'know? I—"
The last thing I thought our run would result in is a heart-to-heart about my deepest insecurities. But Vince has that effect on me, and I trust him despite myself. He blinks, and I wonder if he's searching his mind for platitudes, but instead, he closes the distance between us and kisses me.
Our lips touched carefully at first, like a feather, each of us testing the waters, but soon our bodies collided with a force like gravity. My body responds to his touch on its own, my head spinning as I slide one hand into his hair and the other onto hisback. His fingers wound their way through my hair as I leaned into him.
His calloused fingers graze my collarbone before they dip down and cup my breast, sending a shiver of pleasure down my spine. His other hand slips to my waist and pulls me closer while I taste the salty warmth of his skin. There is an animalistic intensity between us that I'd never felt before, and I can barely contain it as we break apart, panting for breath.
"You're too good for the universe to fuck with," Vince reassures me, soft and low.
"What?"
"You're a good person. I've met a lot of people in my life, and you're one of the best. Lyndsey, you're amazing."
"You too," I choke out. No one's ever complimented me so directly before. I think I've spent my entire life avoiding the sort of attention that would garner this level of careful attention, and I can't help myself as I admit it feels good.
I gather my hair back into a ponytail. "But I'm still faster than you," I tease. I take off in a sprint before he has a chance to put two and two together.
"Lyndsey! What the hell?" he yells as I race forward. He catches up to me and loops his arms around my waist, pulling me toward him and kissing my neck. I laugh.
"That was an unfair advantage. You didn't give me time to prep."
Apollo and Charmaine are disgustingly cute in the dressing room. Apollo is grinning from ear to ear as he shows Charmaine his station. Tonight, he's wearing an extra special purple silk shirt, a departure from his usual rotation of Hawaiian shirts.
"Have you been taking your cholesterol meds?" Charmaine asks. She's one of the most beautiful people I've ever seen, with waist-length box braids and wide brown eyes. She wears a deceptively simple orange silk wrap dress that's probably worth half my paycheck and orange lipstick contrasting her dark skin.
Earlier tonight, she was talking with Priya about how they both "missed Prince," Apparently, she did costumes for him the summer after she met Apollo, and I'm pretty sure she had an unopened text from Beyonce on her phone.
"Yes, dear. I'm about to call in my refill."
Charmaine grabs her bag and digs through it, unearthing a bottle of pills. "I beat you to it."
