Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Time away from each other will always be hard, but it’s been harder than I anticipated. It’s like the more time apart we have, the more those doubts try to come back. But we’ve spoken every day, we’ve FaceTimed, we’ve texted … Logically, I know it’s my nerves trying to ruin this. Well, that, and the fact he still isn’t here. But he will be. I have to believe that.
We need to have that trust, or this will never work.
One of the PAs nearby talks into their headset, telling them to “send him through, ASAP,” and my heart gallops with hope they’re talking about him.
Then when I see him round the corner, fiddling with the earpiece they’ve already fitted him with while trying to shake off the makeup artist, the relief that floods through me almost knocks me off my feet.
Two weeks has felt longer than the two years we were apart.
He smirks at me as he approaches. “You’re looking a little worried. Thought I wasn’t going to make it, huh?”
“Cutting it close, don’t you think?”
His smile widens, and damn, he looks good. His beard is neatly trimmed, probably the shortest I’ve seen it yet, his hair has been cut by a professional this time, and it’s styled to stick up with product. He looks remarkably happy.
“Are you ready to go out there?” He nods toward the stage.
Am I ready? Two minutes ago, I wasn’t sure. But now that he’s here? I could take on the world.
“I’m ready,” I croak. Okay, like ninety percent ready. I clear my throat.
Mason picks up the guitar and throws the strap over his shoulder and then leans in. “I missed you, by the way. If it weren’t for all these cameras and people, I’d kiss you hello.”
My gaze darts quickly around the backstage area, but no one can hear us. Our microphones are onstage, sitting in their stands, so there’s no need to be paranoid, but it’s there anyway. Always there, I guess.
How have Harley and Ryder kept their sexualities secret for so long?
“Soon,” Mason says.
Chances of making it to my bedroom later tonight are slim to none. I envision quick BJs in the foyer. Even Mason’s hand on my cock might be enough to come in one second flat.
I’ve missed him.
I’ve missed the way he holds me.
“Double-checking here,” Mason says, “we’re still finishing this how we planned?”
We came up with a stupid … or brilliant idea.
Maybe this will change things too much. Maybe we shouldn’t. We should perform it how the show wants us to. But then Mason smiles, and nope, no way.
“We’re so doing this.”
His happiness is breathtaking. Damn, I want to kiss him right here and now.
“We’re ready for you.” A production assistant appears in front of us out of nowhere, and we both flinch back. “Places. Now,” she orders.
Mason turns to me. “Time to work.”
Good. The sooner this shitshow is over, the sooner we can go home. And it is a shitshow. And no doubt rigged. Supposedly the fans of the show voted for Isla over Reggie, which means he didn’t make it to the top three tonight.
He’d be in the greenroom, no doubt asking where he went wrong, when the reality is the show probably chose the person they wanted. I’m not worried for him, though. I’ve already spoken to Harley about it, saying if Reggie did lose, that Harley should reach out. After watching some episodes, Harley agrees. Maybe Reggie will sign with him, maybe he’ll go with a bigger label. Either way, he’ll get a contract, so I’m happy for him even if he’s probably feeling sorry for himself right now.
Mason and I take our places on the stage, the low blue hues covering us in darkness until we wait for the show to go back on the air and the lights to come up.
Our stools are close together, our knees touching. It’s the soft reminder I need that he’s here. He’s next to me. This is happening.
The host does his introduction, blabbering on about how we’re the hottest new duo and two from five of the most popular boy band in the world which makes the crowd scream.
It never fails to make me smile and internally cringe at the same time. I love the screams of excitement. My ears don’t love it, but I do. They’re intoxicating, and it’s like being hit with a shot of adrenaline before a performance. It boosts me to the level I need to be at to perform without any hesitance.
Mason starts with the opening chords. Unlike the impromptu performance in my music room, this time we’ve worked out how to perfectly harmonize our voices, which means I kick off the first verse.
I sing to the crowd and the cameras, but the words are all for him. And when he joins in, the magic sparks between us.