Dangerous Crush (Dangerous Noise 2)

Oxy made this easier. It killed my nerves enough that I was a better performer high. If I'd managed to figure out how to stay just high enough, I'd still be using and I'd still be stage-fright-free.

But I got greedy, got too high, started forgetting my commitments, missing recording sessions, showing up late to shows, fucking up everything for everybody else.

Ethan looks at me the way he always does, his blue eyes as filled with excitement as they always are. He can't tell I'm nervous.

I do have an expert poker face.

Ethan steps on stage first. Already, the crowd is going crazy. Then it's Joel bouncing to his drum kit.

Then me. I step on stage and take my place opposite Ethan.

Mal, our singer, is the last to step on stage. The crowd goes fucking crazy for him. He and Ethan share frontman duties but he's the one groaning at all the girls in the audience.

The sound of Ethan's guitar fills the room.

Then the first kick of the drumbeat.

My fingers are stiff enough I almost miss my first note, but I get it. By the first verse, I'm lost in the motions of my hands and the sounds of the room.

I relax enough to play well.

I can fucking do this.

Our music mixes with the cheers and screams of our fans. We pour ourselves into the music that flows from the stage. Our fans pour themselves back as they sing along.

This is the best, most equal relationship I've ever had.

This is exactly where I belong.

I'm in a trance the entire show. I don't rouse from it until I hit my last note and Ethan grabs my arm to pull me backstage with the rest of the band.

The crowd cheering and clapping pours into the narrow hallway.

Ethan is beaming the way he always is after a show. "That crowd was amazing." He turns to Mal with

a megawatt smile. "Best show so far."

Mal half-smiles back. He nods in that Mal kind of way.

Poor Ethan lives and dies for his brother's approval. He'd never admit it, even to himself, but it's clear as day.

Mal's smile spreads to his cheeks. "It was."

Ethan is giddy enough he nearly jumps.

I take a conversation breather to head to our dressing room. My shirt is soaked with sweat. I find my change of clothes in the back corner and start unbuttoning.

"Oh my God. Are you really Kit Lockhart?" A brunette paws at my arm.

I only glance at her enough to check her expression. Somehow, she's not kidding. I'm not sure how she scored the backstage pass hanging between her tits if she really thinks that line will work.

I pull my arm back but say nothing. She knows she's backstage at our show. She knows I'm Kit Lockhart.

She moves closer. "I've always wanted to end up backstage with you." She shifts her hips against mine. "I've always thought about what we could do together."

Fuck, I hate the way fame makes strangers think they have permission to touch me.

This time last year, I'd have taken her up on her clumsy offer. I'd have done it right here.