by Kole, Lana
Lyric would have found humor in the memory, but Andi’s voice was too tinged with sadness. “She’s still that person, Andi. Maybe she’d like to see some of those pictures? Do you still have them?”
Andi let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah. Of course I do. I made her that calendar, remember? She probably still has it somewhere. I’ll dig it out and show her.”
“Keep me updated, okay? I wish I was there with you.”
“Me too,” Andi said with a sigh. “Thanks. Anyways, distract me. How was the first night of tour? Is Henry driving you crazy yet?”
Lyric chewed on her lip. Andi didn’t need to know about her mishap with Emerson.
Oh, is that what we’re calling it now?
Tracing a scratch on the cover of her notebook, Lyric was determined to keep her voice level. “No, no Henry’s fine. He’s great. The show was amazing, except my monitors kind of fizzled out halfway through. Overall, not so bad. But Henry handled it fine. Great, even,” she rambled.
Andi was silent for a long moment, long enough for Lyric to smack her forehead with her palm.
Idiot.
“That’s… great,” her best friend deadpanned into the line.
“Yep. Peachy-keen!”
“So… he’s hot, huh?” Andi asked, a smile in her voice.
Lyric groaned and face planted on the bed. “He’s so hot Andi. You know how I feel about alphas, and he’s… he’s such an alpha.” She deepened her voice to mimic Henry’s. “Don’t forget to take your suppressant. Lunch is at two thirty. I set your alarm already. Be backstage at seven forty-five. Don’t run off.”
Well… that confession was certainly better than the other one.
Hearing Andi’s cackle made her lips curl. For just a moment, she’d made Andi laugh even though she was going through something no one should have to.
“It sounds like he’s actually doing a great job,” Andi teased.
Lyric grumbled dramatically, pulling another giggle out of Andi.
“Really, I’m glad he’s not so bad. And hey, if being a little sexually frustrated is the worst thing that happens on tour, blessings, right?”
Lyric went pale even though there was no way Andi would know what she’d done. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she agreed, trying to play it off.
She could almost sense Andi’s eyes narrowing as she paused. “That is the worst thing that’s happened so far… right?”
“Yeah. Totally. Sexually frustrated, it’s just the worst.” She let out a nervous laugh. I suck at lying.
“Lyric Marie Ceran. What did you do?” Andi questioned, voice serious.
“You just middle-named me,” Lyric scoffed in disbelief.
“Don’t change the subject,” Andi snapped. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” she admitted quickly. “Nothing… bad. Just, surprising. Is it okay if I don’t tell you?”
It wasn’t that she couldn’t admit what had happened. She could admit it.
I slept with Emerson.
See? Easy.
But saying it out loud would make it more real, would make everything more real.
“I don’t know. Depends on what it is,” Andi drawled.
Lyric huffed out a laugh. “Funny. It’s already in the past, and everyone’s already forgotten about it anyway. Not even worth stressing over, I promise.”
A beep went off in the background of Andi’s call, and she sighed. “You were saved by the bell just now, literally. You’re a grown woman so I can’t tell you what to do, nor would I want to. You’re smart enough to figure out what’s an issue and what’s not. Good luck on stage tonight. And with whatever the ‘nothing’ is that you won’t tell me about. Love you.”
“Love you too,” Lyric responded. “Bye!”
After disconnecting the call, Lyric grumbled and stared down at her notebook. Andi’s words were worse than Henry’s.
But Lyric pushed the guilt, the uncertainty, and her worries aside, and put her pen to paper.
Of course everything she told Andi proved to be a lie when Lyric finally returned to the common area later that day.
Emerson was facing the television, controller in hand as he and Nohen battled it out in some fictional game.
“Hey, guys,” she greeted, ready for the day. After pouring her emotions into lyrics all day, she was refreshed and ready for anything.
Anything… except the black eye Emerson blinked in her direction after saying hello.
Lyric stared at his back as he turned to face the television again, shouting an obscenity at Nohen and pressing the buttons on the controller furiously. Had she imagined it?
Her steps were soft as she crossed the floor, but her touch as she gripped Emerson’s chin was sharp as she pulled his face around so she could see him. He stared up at her, confusion painting his features before he softened his expression. “Hello,” he murmured softly, arching one brow. “Can I help you?”
Narrowing her gaze, she traced every nuance of the discoloration around his eye. Her thumb brushed just under the bruise as she asked, “Who gave you that?”
Adra, Desi, and Henry had gone silent in the bus, and on the television, the game paused, sending everyone into quietness. The rumble of the road beneath the bus was white noise.
“I did it,” Nohen confessed softly.
Surprise filled Lyric, and she glanced to the beta with wide eyes before carrying her gaze back to the alpha.
“You gave him a black eye? Why?”
A deep, throaty chuckle came from Emerson, and Lyric jerked her hand back, afraid that touching him would somehow reveal how the sound affected her. How it made her stomach flutter.
“There might have been a bit of… miscommunication when I got back to the green room last night,” Emerson offered. He turned to Nohen with amusement on his face. “The kid’s got a nice right hook.”
“Oh… my god,” Lyric huffed, shaking her head.
“I thought he hurt you at first, and I might have overreacted,” Nohen explained further, tightening the knots in her stomach. The idea that she might have created tension between not only herself and Emerson, but the rest of the band too was too much to handle. “But we’re good. Now I’m just ready to kick his ass at this game just like I did in real life.”
Emerson scoffed and grabbed his controller. “Oh, please. If I hadn’t been so surprised it was you who came for me last night, you never would’ve gotten the chance.”
“Keep tellin’ yourself that,” Nohen muttered, sending her a wink.
At first, Lyric wanted to press the issue, demand to know more details, but their body language told her more than she could’ve pried from their lips. They were shoulder to shoulder, faces scrunched in concentration, elbowing each other as their characters on the screen ran through a battle zone. Lyric sat on the couch, watching them play and murmur lighthearted insults at one another, but it was Nohen who had the ultimate victory, and he wasn’t going to let Emerson forget it.
“Again,” Emerson demanded, reaching over to try to begin the next round from Nohen’s controller.
“What? No!” he shouted, stretching to dangle the controller out of Emerson’s reach. “Let me have this win!”
Lyric enjoyed their playfulness a little too much. Especially as Emerson planted one hand behind Nohen’s back and leaned over the beta, his arm extending past Nohen’s to rip the controller from his grip. And she wasn’t the only one, if Nohen’s flushed cheeks were any sign. He glanced back at her, behind Emerson’s head, and the blush deepened.
Lyric shrugged and held her hands up innocently, as if to say, see, it’s hard, isn’t it?
A knowing smile curled his lips and he took the controller from Emerson before they dived back into the game.
Lyric was so accustomed to the silence of her own apartment, it surprised her that she enjoyed the background noise of the video game and listening to Adra and Desi have a discussion, though she wasn’t following it. Even Henry, who typed away at his computer, added to
the… homey atmosphere.
Deciding to make the front room her hangout for the time being, she stood from the couch to grab her phone from her nest. But as she passed the fridge, Henry’s voice cut through all the noise.
“If you’re returning to your nest, grab a bottle of water to drink, please,” he said. He didn’t even lift his gaze from his laptop, the screen still reflecting in his glasses, as if bossing her around was an afterthought.
Lyric stopped in the middle of the walkway, narrowing her eyes at the empty space in front of her. Her first instinct was to continue past the small fridge and straight to her nest. But she was an adult.
So she settled for mocking him silently as she opened the fridge door and pulled out a bottle of water.
She even returned to the front room with her phone, where she sat on the couch and responded to emails and texts and managed her social media.
Her gaze returned to Emerson and Nohen again and again, as if waiting for the moment their smiles turned to snarls.
Lyric didn’t need to be causing tensions between the band. Nohen had given Emerson a black eye! And it was all her fault for giving in to an impulsive decision.
For thinking like an omega, instead of an artist with a reputation on the line.
Lyric scowled at the truth her subconscious spat, but she agreed.
She just had to keep her hands to herself, and her resolve stronger than… than the seams on Emerson’s button-ups.
And Lyric held fast to her new rule. She walked off stage with all that energy thrumming in her veins, and after dutifully informing Henry, she retreated to the bus for a shower to wash the sweat off. Then, like the good little musician she was, she wrote in her notebook for a bit before fulfilling her nightly call with Andi, listening to her best friend vent. Hearing about her mom struggling usually dampened Lyric’s mood enough that the pent-up energy was smothered under the wet blanket of empathy.
The following night was much the same. And the night after.
Sing. Shower. Rinse. Repeat.
Lyric tried not to think about the other ways Emerson was working out his energy. Tried to ignore the way his cheeks were usually still flushed when they all returned to the bus. Purposely turned her head away from the little touches he and Adra shared.
The hickies on Emerson’s collarbones, only visible when he wore a specific gray tee with a worn-out collar, were mocking her.
Lyric cursed the moment they all returned to the bus as much as she looked forward to it. Hearing their voices filter through the thin walls was comforting, but she’d never ask them to spend more time cooped up on the bus than they had to. If she was really that desperate for company, she could always go to the green room after the show.
Whereas Lyric sought solace in the bus, buried in her nest, the others seemed only to return when they absolutely had to. Then again… she had a nest. They had bunk beds.
When Lyric did finally join them in the main room, the familiar heat she’d come to associate with Emerson simmered beneath her skin. She ignored it, wanting their company more than she wanted to get fucked.
Okay, so maybe that wasn’t entirely true, but it wasn’t as if Lyric could take Emerson to the floor right then and there. See? Even with her omega needs acting up, she had manners.
As they fell into their nightly routines, she cozied up in the corner of the couch with a blanket and did her usual rounds of email and social media checking.
When she crawled into her nest alone once everyone had gone to sleep, it was with a tiny bit more pride.
The next night on stage, she danced as much to the music as she did away from the heat in Emerson’s gaze. She let the music carry her around the stage, seeking refuge from the intensity of the memories as she approached Nohen.
His head was bowed, and a single curl fallen in front of his face as his fingers floated over the guitar. It was like magic, the effortless way he played.
She drifted her fingers over the tops of his shoulders as she circled him, over the soft fabric of his button-up, across the pad of the guitar strap. When he felt the pressure of her touch, his head turned toward her and a half smile curled his lips. His gaze dipped halfway down her body before making its way north again, and a rush of heat bloomed under her skin.
One that had nothing to do with the stage lights beaming down on them.
When she stopped in front of him again, she fixed his collar and brushed her pointer finger over his bow tie.
The sparkles in Nohen’s bow tie reflected the lights from the stage, but they were dim compared to the amusement gleaming in his golden eyes. She narrowed her gaze, barely resisting the urge to let her gaze dip and trace the way the fitted shirt hugged his lean frame and the pants hugged his thighs and ass. She couldn’t stop from admiring the way he held the guitar, his palm stretched around the neck, his fingers flying over the strings with perfect precision.
Her gaze returned to his, and buried underneath the humor was a knowing that made Lyric’s skin itch.
She danced away, retreating to her microphone stand. She knew better than to play with Emerson, and Adra was just as tempting.
Don’t overthink it.
Too late.
She couldn’t very well ignore half the stage the entire night.
At least, that was what she told herself as they transitioned into the next song.
As the music swelled around them, she spoke to the crowd. “I wrote this song because I was lonely. But that was a while ago. I have all of you now,” she said with a grin, and gestured to the venue.
The screams would’ve deafened her if not for the monitors.
Lyric sang the first note on cue, her voice blending with the music in the exact way she’d envisioned it so long ago.
As it picked up pace, became a little more energetic, a little more electric—thanks to Nohen—Lyric danced around and made her circuit around the stage.
Her heart pounded, but she focused on the notes, on her breathing, on singing the right words.
Emerson’s gaze shot up, almost stopping her in her tracks. Heat kindled in his gaze, aimed in her direction, and she was drawn to it, to him, in the same way she knew she should turn her back.
Don’t play with fire.
Lyric had never been one to listen to common sense.
She didn’t slowly tease her palm back and forth over the candle flame, letting her adjust to its warmth. She didn’t hold the sparkler back from her skin, letting the bright flashes of sparks dance and disappear across her flesh without a mark.
Lyric approached Emerson with a confidence she shouldn’t have felt. Not with the easy way she knew he affected her.
Even with the stage lights slightly dimmed on his side of the stage, with his body mostly hidden from the crowd by one of the stained glass panels, and his face eclipsed by the flat brim of his hat, Lyric knew it was a mistake.
But she did it anyway.
She stepped close, her lips singing words about loneliness and late nights, but her mind stuck on the way his fingers played the strings, the same fingers that had been inside her. The same ones that had covered her mouth and muffled her cries.
It didn’t get easier the closer she got. In fact, his scent, of all the ones surrounding her in the venue, stuck out. Thankfully still dulled, but damn, it had the power to wipe her mind of everything but the way he’d felt inside her.
The crowd sang along, helping keep her in the present—barely—and they screamed louder when she got closer to Emerson.
Feeding off their energy, her own excitement, and the tiny little voice in the back of her head that urged her for more, she stepped so close to Emerson that his fingers playing the bass brushed against her pants.
She tilted her head, singing up at him, and he mouthed the words back at her.
Without thinking, she reached up, wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, and brought him down to her. The mic separated their lips, and amongst the screams of the crowd, their voices mixed into the p
erfect harmony.
“How can I be lonely
When the ghost of your touch
Still haunts me?”
If she thought Emerson playing the bass was hot, hearing her own lyrics fall from his lips with such conviction melted her into a fucking puddle.
She danced away, trying to seek refuge from the flames by spinning with Adra on his island of synth.
He shared a carefree grin with her as she stepped onto the edge opposite him, the black and white keys of the keyboard separating them. She grabbed the ledge with one hand, tightened her hold on the mic with the other, and pushed off with her foot.
They spun slowly, but the blurring lights and background made her feel like they were in their own, private, intimate world. Filled with music and an unrealized tension.
Oh, I realize it, alright.
When they slowed to a stop in time with the song, Adra stepped off the island and came around the side.
Lyric cocked her head at him. What was he doing?
Adra stopped only a few steps away and offered her his hand. It made her lips twitch as she placed her palm in his and he helped her off the stand.
A throng of ‘awws’ filled the venue, and Lyric rolled her eyes against the flush in her cheeks.
His palm was soft and warm against hers as it engulfed her hand. He squeezed once before releasing her and walking away.
As she told the crowd a story to preface the next song, she took the small set of stairs behind Desi’s drum stage and walked around her drum kit to take a seat in the front, legs hanging over the edge.
“This song is about overcoming someone else’s expectations of you.”
As they shouted, Desi leaned over and offered her a bottle of water. Her words were lost in the sea of noise, but Lyric read her lips just fine.
“You look thirsty.”
Lyric thanked her with a glare and sucked down half of the bottle before the next song started.
The rest of the set passed in a blur of teasing touches and knowing glances as resignation snuck up on her.
Goddammit.
Lyric grabbed the set list off the stage, gaze glazing over Emerson before she tossed the paper into the crowd.