I all but ran into the bathroom, glowering at myself in the mirror. My auburn hair was messy, falling all around my flushed face. My green eyes were shining brighter than I’d ever seen before. I smashed my lips together in disgust. Stop letting his looks affect you!
I whispered to myself, “He’s just a normal guy playing guitar. Stop being so stupid.” Okay, yes, watching Reid’s hand glide up and over his guitar gave me actual goosebumps, but I’d been around other guitar players before. But Reid King makes your stomach drop with one, teeny-tiny lift of his lip, and no one you’ve ever met can command an entire arena of people with just a single flick of a finger on a string. My face flamed even warmer as I remembered the way he looked at me in the shower the other night, the way his hands felt around my body. Holy shit, stop!
I hurriedly turned the small nozzle on the sink to the right and splashed some water on my face. I took a few deep breaths before drying my cheeks and returning to the bedroom. As soon as I shut the door behind me, I paused, my feet glued to the floor like feathers glued to a boa.
My eyes were on Reid and only Reid. His head was bent down low, his eyes closed as his fingers moved effortlessly over each string on the wooden instrument. His strong jaw looked as if it could actually cut me; the ripples of muscles along his forearm were teetering back and forth. My heart stuttered in my chest. Reid King was attractive, but wha
t I was watching was so much more than just an attractive man playing a guitar. It was like I could see inside him. I could see the beautiful harmony of how his heart beat for his music. I could see all the emotion that he’d been keeping at bay pour out of him and into that piece of equipment.
Reid King was the music, and the music was Reid King—they were one.
And I was totally, one hundred and fifty percent, enthralled by it.
???
My heart was fluttering in my chest, nerves causing me to bounce on my two feet. I was uncomfortable, but I never backed down from a deal, so there I was, standing in the third row of Reid King’s show, surrounded by drunk women and rowdy men. I’d promised Reid I would watch his show from down below if he strung a few notes together on his guitar and got a melody going, and that was exactly what he did last night. So, yeah, there I was.
My head flicked upward as the lights dimmed. I watched as Reid’s bandmates came onto the stage, Finn holding up his drumsticks as a simple gesture to the crowd. They all went crazy, screaming, jumping up and down on their feet, bumping into me every so often. Anxiety clawed at my very skull. If they go this crazy over the band, how will it be when Reid walks out onstage? I could always hear the crowd when I’d been backstage, watching him work his guitar and sing with soulful rasp in his voice from the side. But now that I was down here, I was a little on edge.
I wasn’t only anxious, but excited, too. I was feeling all sorts of emotion. The first show I went to, I was excited to hear his music, to hear Reid sing live for the first time. But this time, I was excited because I knew that Reid being onstage meant that he was happy. Maybe even the only time he was truly content was onstage, and for some reason, that made me feel lighter, happier.
I sucked in a breath as the crowd grew silent and the familiar tune of his number one hit, “Loving Her,” began playing. The strum of the guitar mixed with the beat of the drum meant that Reid was onstage, but the lights were so dim now that you could only see shadows and dark figures.
It didn’t matter, though.
I knew what he looked like when he truly got into a song, the way his body went tense but somehow his arms would appear relaxed as he held onto the guitar. It was almost as if it were an actual limb of his. I knew the exact cut of his locked jaw, the way his brown locks bounced with the nod of his head. He truly got swallowed by the melody of each song, and in turn, it swallowed everyone around him, too.
A tiny smile found its way onto my mouth when the spotlight shined brightly onto Reid’s figure at the same time his voice sounded around the arena. It was strange, really—the entire arena roared with love for Reid King. It should have been loud and caused me to cover my ears, but it was silent where I was standing. The only thing I could hear was Reid and his voice that seemed to float in every cell of my body. The only thing I could see was him. My eyes followed him around the stage, catching his eye and a small sliver of a smile when he’d lock onto me. It was a subtle acknowledgement; no one else would have noticed—definitely not with the alcohol swishing in their systems—but it sent a spark of light into my chest every single time. I was absorbed in all things Reid King. My hips even began swaying at one point. Reid was right; being down below the stage was so much better than being backstage. I was completely engrossed and gripped by the show he put on, by the music that was pouring out of his soul, and that was probably why I didn’t notice the commotion going on behind me.
I knew it was Reid’s last song, and even though we’d all been standing and watching in awe for hours, I didn’t grasp it. It was like Reid King sucked me into his music to the point that I hadn’t realized any time had passed.
Something took my attention away from the last chorus of “Knowing You,” and I angled my head over my shoulder. I caught the eye of a teenaged girl sporting a tight miniskirt and a crop top, standing very closely to her group of friends—who were all also wearing miniskirts. When she looked at me, her eyes widened beyond belief. It worried me, so I scrunched my brow and yelled, “Are you okay?”
“Watch out!” she shouted, and that was when I felt a push.
I gasped and stumbled forward, hitting my stomach off the metal bars that were blocking the front seats from the back. “What the—”
All the words were stolen from my mouth as I was slammed onto the harsh concrete ground. I couldn’t breathe. My chest wheezed for air as I blinked rapidly, watching two grown men from above punch one another brutally.
I wanted to move. I needed to move, but I couldn’t. I was trapped in a WWE match, pinned to the ground with a man straddling my body to get to his opponent. Then I winced and rolled to my side at the same time he stepped right onto my left side—the side that held my only working kidney.
Oh shit.
My heart sank as I tried to cover my head, afraid that I would get hurt again, but then I unexpectedly felt a strong grip on my arms and was thrust upward. My breathing was labored, my eyes trying so desperately to lock onto something familiar, but everything was blurry. It wasn’t until I was safe from the crowd that I realized Reid was carrying me so fast I was likely to have windburn.
I hadn’t even realized the music had stopped playing.
The only thing I was focused on was not getting stepped on and getting the hell out of the way.
“Brooklyn, look at me. Are you okay?”
I blinked the moisture away from my eyes as I was carried farther into the darkness behind the stage. My arms were wrapped around Reid’s neck, his sweat coating my fingers. I finally focused on his eyes, but their golden color that usually glittered was dark and intense. “Brooklyn, where are you hurt?”
I croaked, barely able to string words together. “I… I’m fine.” But I knew I needed to get my side checked. The transplant was over a year ago, and I was in the clear with a clean bill of health, but it was still important for me to protect my only working kidney, considering it was doing the work of two kidneys.
“You’re not fine,” he blurted. “You were just trampled on. Where are you hurt?”
I shook my head. “Reid, really. I’m okay. It just knocked the wind out of me.”