Anya and the Shy Guy (Backstage Pass)

by Suze Winegardner

“I’m going to curl your hair, too, okay? It’ll look so lovely down for once.”

  “Okay.” She remembered how Will had liked it down.

  Using her curling iron, Natasha made her shoulder-length hair look shorter, with waves and curls looking like she’d just got out of bed. But with a full face of makeup, it looked wild and exciting. Natasha took a soft brush and dipped it in some really fine glitter and painted it delicately on some ends of her hair. She sprayed it lightly and stood back to admire her work.

  “Stunning. If I say so myself.”

  Anya looked at herself. “Ditto, and ditto. You’re a miracle worker.”

  “Nah. I had a great canvas to work with. But now we have to find you something to wear. Stay here.” She ran out of the trailer, leaving her spinning from one side to the other, watching the glitter flash at the ends of her curls.

  When Natasha came back, she was holding a gold, shimmering sundress. “Here. I found a loaner. It’s going to be perfect with your coloring.”

  “Who does it belong to? I’m guessing no one in the band!”

  “Ha! You might be surprised. No, kidding. It was one of Paige’s costumes that didn’t make the cut. She hated it and refused to wear it. So it just hangs in the costume trailer. We’ll put it back tomorrow. We use her rejected dresses all the time. She likes tight, low-cut things, and the first costume designer had brought outfits that were age-appropriate for her, but she wanted to look older. Go try it on.” She pointed toward the bathroom.

  It was made of some kind of brocade, a slightly stiff material, which helped keep it up, as it was off the shoulder in a slightly old-fashioned way. It was a lighter gold color than she had first thought. The neckline went across her chest and around her upper arms. It fell from the fitted waist to her knees. She closed her eyes, trying for a second to lock in the memory of her in the dress. It was perfect. And Will would love her in it. Hell, she loved her in it!

  And because it was designed like a sundress, she could wear her plain, black flip-flops with it without it looking too odd. She emerged from the bathroom, her jean skirt and T-shirt in her hand.

  “God, I’m brilliant.” Natasha whispered when she came out. She jumped up and pumped her fist in the air. “Seriously. I’m effing amazing! You look crazy good!”

  She grabbed a hangered dress, covered in a dry cleaning bag, out of the kitchen. “My turn. I’ll be right back.”

  She came back nearly immediately in a figure-hugging, black sleeveless dress with large red flowers patterned across the middle that kind of made her waist look tiny. “Wow. That’s a great dress.”

  “Thanks, sweetie. You ready to hit the show?” She pulled on some impossibly high sandals and planted her fists on her hips. “We are going to have an awesome night if I have to kill someone to achieve it. Okay?”

  “Okay. But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  “Let’s hit it, sister!”

  Anya was aware of the looks they both got on the short walk to the stadium. Roadies and backstage people, who hadn’t ever looked at her twice before, suddenly couldn’t take their eyes off them. Maybe it was just Natasha. She looked like she just stepped off the front page of a magazine.

  “Uh-oh. Badly timed,” Natasha said, slowing down. Across the parking lot, the girl who had been so mean to them in the coffee hut was stalking toward her trailer, a bunch of people in tow. Just as Anya looked at her, Paige caught their eyes and glared at them. And then smirked. Maybe it was a smile? Whatever it was sent a little shiver down Anya’s spine.

  “It’s like locking eyes with a shark,” Natasha mumbled, exaggerating a shiver. “Okay. Eyes on the prize.” She seemed to know her way through the new stadium, although Anya probably could have followed the noise, too.

  The podium was fairly empty this time. Probably not as many guests the first night in town. Natasha said hello to two girls and hugged them both briefly, but as she seemed about to introduce Anya, the band started up. Natasha shrugged, and everyone smiled and nodded at one another.

  Natasha had been right. There was definitely something exciting in the air tonight. The thumping bass shuddered through her already lightened body. She wanted to dance and shout, scream and leap around like a kid before Christmas. A normal kid before Christmas.

  The music was as infectious as before, even though they played a slightly different set. Through the stage cutouts she could see the audience, with neon bands around their heads and wrists, jumping and holding their arms out to the boys. She couldn’t believe she was actually a part of this. How many of those girls would kill to be where she was now?

  Maybe this gig was going to save her. Not by writing a scoop, but by meeting nice people and having one of them, maybe two of them, actually care about her. Maybe that’s all it would take to help her get off the street.

  She took a few photos with her tablet, until Natasha grabbed it and took a bunch of the audience and the two girls who shared the podium with them. One time, when Will came around to her side of the stage, he stopped dead when he saw her, slapped his hand over his heart, and beat his chest really fast as if his heart was going to explode. Her knees went to honey.

  She smiled back, then grinned, and then hopped up and down until Natasha and she were screaming in some kind of euphoria. He liked her. He really did. Those incredible kisses meant something. She danced, spinning around, hugging Natasha and the two girls who seemed to be having just as much fun as she was.

  There was no rain dance finale on this show. The boys closed the show with the same song, “WET”, but this time the stage extended into the audience so all the fans could get to see the guys a bit closer. Unfortunately, that meant that no one on the podium could see anything, so Natasha nudged her down the stairs and backstage.

  The boys ran offstage into a room at the side. Natasha and Anya followed them in. Wow.

  The guys were bouncing off the walls. Like literally. They whooped and shouted and high-fived, and double high-fived, and hugged, and other, slapped one another on the back. Then Will saw her and shouted, “Anya!”

  He picked her up and twirled her around. “You look totally amazing,” he shouted. “Yeah!”

  Her feet were a good foot off the ground, but his exuberance was infectious. Again she felt herself caught up in the pure high in the room. He put her back on the floor and without warning or hesitation, planted his mouth over hers. He rushed her backward and held her against the wall. She could feel every part of him, every part of his body and every part of his soul as his tongue played with hers, searching, playing, and needing.

  “Some fucking Shy Guy,” someone said in the room, and as Anya’s eyes flew open, everyone paused to look at them. Loud laugher erupted through the small space and, heat infusing her face, she pushed him away from her.

  He stepped back, and she smoothed her dress down, looking down to avoid his eyes.

  He dipped two fingers under her chin and made her meet his eyes. “Don’t be embarrassed. Or if you are embarrassed, get used to it because I intend on kissing you like that every chance I get.” He paused, his gaze wandering over her face. “You’re phenomenal, and you’re mine. Wait. That didn’t come out right. I meant I’m yours. If you’ll have me.”

  Her mouth dropped open at such a blatant admission. She stared at him.

  “Okay, blink once for no, twice for yes.” He grinned.

  She blinked twice and he shouted, “Yeah!” again, picking her up and swinging her around. “Wanna split?”

  Without waiting for her answer, he grabbed her hand and took off running through the backstage passages. She ran behind him, her hand skimming the walls of the corridor as they ran down them, as if she wanted to reassure herself that this was a real, solid, concrete world and not a crazy, amazing dream that would disappear when she woke up.

  Chapter Fourteen

  He wasn’t sure what his plan was. His brain was too full of the show and the adrenaline to really think it through properly. His brother would be co
ming to town soon. Anya could never know that she was kissing Matt, not Will.

  Which left him with the absolute only answer: he’d have to make Will take over…everything. And it made him sick to his stomach.

  He’d fucked this one up good and proper. She’d never forgive him for lying to her. Never forgive him for pretending to be Will—and why should she? It’s the worst kind of deception, and it was eating him up inside like acid. Slowly but surely corroding his heart.

  “Charm her,” they’d said. “Make her like you.” But they never gave a second thought about what would happen if he liked her back.

  He’d come up with a plan tomorrow. Right now, he would explode if he didn’t kiss her again. It was like being exposed to her heart, her soul. It tripled his show high. He felt like he could fly when she was in his arms.

  He put his hand on the door handle that would take them outside, but before he opened it he spun her around so her back was to the door. He released her hand and stroked the side of her face. She dipped her cheek into his hand, and turned her head so she could kiss his palm.

  Electricity spun a live wire web through him like Spiderman. Yeah, he had it bad. Like bad.

  “Come on, let’s get out of here.” He opened the door and slipped his arm around her like he’d been born to walk alongside her. She fit perfectly under his shoulder. He could smell the shampoo in her hair without even moving too much. She was like a dream come true.

  “Are we going up again?”

  “Yup. But I’m grabbing supplies first this time. Give me a sec.” He ran to his bus and came out a minute later with a bag and a crisp white duvet that he’d snatched from his bunk. Okay, maybe it was Trevin’s bunk, because he’d noticed that he’d had his laundry done that day.

  The roof of the arena was much bigger than the last one. They took the walkway all the way around until they could see the sea in the distance. Well, it was just a dark patch, but he assumed it was the sea.

  He spread the duvet on the roof and took out soda and his iPhone from his bag. He cued up a playlist he’d prepared and hit play. Chill-out music spilled across the roof. “The guys were going into town tonight with crazy Mardi Gras masks on, and I was going to bring you, but I really just wanted to hang with you alone. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. I’m not big on crowds,” she said, sitting down and stretching her legs out, arranging her dress carefully over her thighs. Her thighs. He looked for a second and then averted his eyes.

  “Why not? I mean, you volunteered to cover a tour. Things can get pretty crowded around here. Imagine the other day when we had to hide, multiplied by four.”

  “Do you find it scary?”

  He gazed out into the distance. “More overwhelming than scary. The one thing I’m always scared about is someone else getting hurt in the stampede. It hit us all really bad when that girl fell from the balcony. It could have been so much worse, but to have someone hurt because of the publicity we kind of live and die by. That’s hard to stomach.”

  “Do you want to do this for the rest of your life?” she asked.

  “Hell no. I want to go to college and get a good degree in business, because I wouldn’t mind learning how to be the manager of a band. Having experienced it, I think I’d be able to steer them better than maybe our manager does.” Shut up. You can’t say anything else about LJ.

  “How long have you known that you don’t want to be in a band for the rest of your life?”

  “Forever? The last few weeks for sure. I don’t really know.” Shut up shut up shut up. “What about you?” He lay on his side, head propped up on his hand. “What do you want to do? Be a reporter?”

  She leaned back, supporting herself on her arms. “I thought maybe I could. But I don’t know if I have what it takes. College would be a dream, though. That sounds awesome.”

  So weird he never thought about this before. “Why aren’t you at college? Where do you live, and who do you live with? I can’t believe I don’t know these things about you.”

  She hesitated for a long moment. “Because those are boring things. I’m not at school because I can’t afford it, and I don’t live with anyone. And Tulsa. There. All the fascinating details.” She laughed.

  He laughed, too, but it sounded hollow.

  “So the tour is going international?” she said.

  “Seems to be growing every day. As Natasha said, it started off as a European tour, then they added Japan, now Australia’s involved, which will be cool. Who knows what the tour will look like by the time we leave the U.S.? We might never make it back. I call it the ‘Making Hay’ tour. Don’t tell anyone, though.”

  “You mean making hay while the sun shines? Isn’t that what everyone does? Making the most of their popularity, because next year it could be someone else’s turn? You’re right to get as much money as you can before the next hot thing takes over the charts. It’ll definitely fund your degree.”

  “Right.”

  He wanted to tell her. To tell her everything about Will, about how he should be pursuing his university dream in a matter of months. But he couldn’t risk LJ suing them and putting them all on the streets.

  He thought about his mom who, thanks to Will’s career, had been able to stop working three jobs for the first time since she’d had the twins. She said she didn’t know what to do with herself, but she’d relaxed and looked ten years younger since she was able to stop working. He couldn’t take that away from his family, even for the sake of love.

  Love? Lust? Intense interest?

  He actually had no idea. He just knew that whenever she wasn’t in eyesight, he was constantly looking for her. He wanted to kiss her all day, dreamed—uncomfortably—about being bad with her all night.

  He closed his eyes for a second to banish that thought. He hadn’t brought any cushions. Maybe lying next to each other wasn’t the brightest idea.

  “Come closer,” his hormones said, ignoring his brain.

  She shuffled nearer and rested her head on his chest. Perfect. Close, but not pants-tenting close.

  “I love…having you right here,” he said, wanting to infuse something more intimate into his words without scaring her.

  “I love being right here,” she murmured back.

  He squeezed her closer and said nothing. She soothed him like this. The post-show rush was gone, replaced by something much warmer and calmer. She felt like home. He had no idea why.

  …

  Anya lay with her head on his heart, like she had before, listening to her heartbeat align with his. It felt like the most intimate thing in the world, as if their very existence depended on each other’s pulse. Her hand played with his black tie, the last thing he’d worn onstage. “Isn’t this uncomfortable?” she whispered, tugging at it gently.

  She had a feeling as she said it that she was inviting him to take off some clothes, but she couldn’t bring herself to mind or even be scared.

  He pushed his fingers in the knot to loosen it and slipped it over his head. “I wouldn’t mind losing the shirt, too. It’s probably sweaty. Oh God! I’m probably sweaty. I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think. Do I smell bad?”

  She sat up to allow him to get up, too. “I love how you smell,” she said truthfully.

  He looked at her for a long second. “I love how you smell, too.” He started to unbutton his shirt. “Is it okay if I lose this?”

  She bit her lip but nodded. She should say no, right? She should insist on returning to the safety of the Hanging On bus. But she really badly wanted to see him without his shirt.

  He stood and pulled the shirt out of his dark blue jeans. His muscles rippled—yup, there was no other word for it—as he threw it onto his bag. He was…a god. A Greek god.

  She held out her hand to him, and he took it and pulled her up. Her eyes were glued to his smooth chest. Her hand stretched toward his skin as if it had a mind of its own. She caught it just in time, but he refused to let her retreat and pulled her palm flat agains
t his chest and held his over hers so that his heart throbbed against her hand.

  Her knees had no tension, they just felt like liquid. He released her hand and it floated over his pectoral muscles, his abs, and up to his shoulders. She should not be doing this. Should. Not.

  Her body disobeyed her brain and in a second, both her hands were on his perfect torso. He closed his eyes and dropped his head. She stroked his tanned arms, his soft skin, actually walking around him, trailing her fingers over his muscles. Her heartbeat seemed to slow in time to her movements, and heat pulsed through her veins.

  On his left shoulder was a tattoo. An elaborate compass the size of her hand. But it was partially covered in some kind of waterproof makeup. Maybe he was embarrassed about it? It was beautiful. He was beautiful. He was hers. She kissed between his shoulder blades, and a groan rumbled through his chest. He turned and grabbed her in a bear hug, squeezing the life out of her.

  “I don’t want to lose you,” he said against her hair. “Promise me I won’t lose you.”

  “You won’t lose me,” she whispered back, not knowing if she was speaking the truth at all. Wouldn’t she leave in a couple of weeks? Wouldn’t he be leaving for goodness knew how long on his world tour? And that was only assuming she wasn’t fired on the spot if Cynthia found out the truth about her.

  It didn’t seem the right time or place to question his words. To dig for a deeper, more permanent meaning. And even if she’d wanted to, he chose that moment to kiss her, and all sensible thoughts left her mind.

  As his lips pressed her mouth open, she stroked his back, loving the feel of his skin under her hands. His muscles flexed as if they were vying for her to touch them. She wanted to touch every part of him.

  A new playlist came from his phone, this time more upbeat. He stopped kissing her and pulled her close to him, dancing in time to the faster music. He pushed her away and held her hands, spinning her around and dipping her until he was laughing and she was shrieking every time he dipped her and pressed a kiss to her neck.

  Eventually they stopped dancing, sweaty and out of breath in the humid night air. They collapsed to the duvet and lay down together. His breath came in pants, as did hers. She lay her head back on his chest. They’d talk when they’d got their breath back.