Starstruck (Heartstrings Duet #1)

36. sinking like a stone

[ 36 ]

SINKING LIKE A STONE

LENNON

“MIND OVER MATTER” BY YOUNG THE GIANT

I t’s the final show of Baxter’s No Promises tour, and as I promised last week, I’m sitting in his dressing room listening to the hum of Colt’s guitar and the echo of Baxter’s voice onstage.

I got here just as the show was beginning. Baxter knew I’d be late because I had to wait on a merchandise delivery for the concert, so I ended up having to take a later flight. Baxter’s driver picked me up from the airport and took me to the hotel so I could drop my things off and change before bringing me here. Kevin was waiting for me when I arrived backstage and led me to the dressing room, where I’ve been sitting for the past fifteen minutes.

I really should get out there—watch him from the side of the stage. But my head has been a mess since I landed. For whatever reason, I’ve been a ball of anxiety since last weekend when Baxter invited me to the show, and I can’t quite pinpoint why.

Maybe because this is the first show of his I’ve ever been to.

Maybe because I haven’t been able to get my mind off the way he kissed me last weekend, and I’m worried he won’t do it again tonight.

Maybe because this is starting to feel less and less like a friends with benefits arrangement and more and more real with every moment we spend together.

Something about this last week has changed things for us. The lines are becoming more blurred. After that kiss, I can’t tell which way is up and which way is down. My heart and my head can’t tell what’s real anymore, and it’s terrifying.

Because Baxter James is not the type of man to settle down. There’s no reason why that would change for me. And what’s worse is that I knew this would happen, so the only person I can blame is myself.

I take a few more minutes, giving myself time to breathe before I see him in his element and inevitably fall even deeper into this whole thing.

Allowing my eyes to wander around his dressing room, I catch sight of the bowl of assorted sour candies Baxter can’t go onstage without, as well as two packs of Marlboro Blacks and a red lighter lying on the table by the door.

I make my way to the table and pop a candy in my mouth as I pull out a cigarette. Placing the filtered end between my lips, I hold the lighter to the tip and inhale, letting the smoke that burns my throat billow around me as I stare at my reflection in the mirror.

My eyes are shaded dark with black liner framing them. My hair is styled in messy waves that I fluff with my fingers. After I put out the cigarette in the ashtray on the vanity, I touch up my dark-red lipstick. Then with a sharp exhale, I turn and head toward the door.

The decibel level increases tenfold as I swing it open. I smile to myself as I make my way to the side of the stage where I can see the guys, taking in everything happening backstage as I walk. This is nowhere near my first time being backstage at a concert, but the energy of the crew and watching the groupies fawn over the performers never gets old .

The crowd is electric when I catch sight of Baxter under a spotlight, a dark-red guitar in hand and his lips pressed to the microphone. Colt is to his right holding his own purple guitar, playing in perfect rhythm while Levi sits at the drums at the back of the stage, completely lost in the music.

Baxter scans the crowd until, like a moth to a flame, his eyes land on me. A small look of shock crosses his face before it morphs into pure joy. I hold his gaze as I smile at him, completely blown away by the talent of the man in front of me. He holds my eyes for a moment as he sings, his focus on me not once pulling him from the song.

I wasn’t lying to him all those months ago when I said I’d never gone out of my way to listen to his music. But after he practically begged me to start that night, I did. If I didn’t know it already, it’s clear Baxter is talented as hell. His singles are still my least favourite songs of his, and for good reason. He has so much range, and the songs that become singles all sound somewhat the same—which makes sense, I suppose. But it really showed me how much I was missing out on.

One song morphs into the next, the crowd cheering for each one. He puts on a fantastic show—like he was made to be onstage. I’ve never seen anyone look so at ease while performing. He’s the embodiment of someone who loves what he does, and watching him now tells me just how right I was in getting him to headline the benefit, no matter how much I hated the idea at first.

His eyes find me every so often, and the butterflies in my stomach flutter every time. Somehow, even in a crowd full of people, he’s drawn to me the way I am him.

It’s exhilarating. And terrifying. Because we’re temporary, and with each day that passes, I get more hung up on him, even knowing he could never truly feel the same.

I’m pulled from my thoughts when I feel eyes on me that aren’t coming from the stage. Glancing around, I catch sight of a woman who looks about my age standing a few people away, her eyes glued to me. She’s got short, curly, blonde hair and mesmerizing eyes, though I can’t tell what colour they are in the darkness of the stadium.

She looks familiar, but I can’t quite place her.

I smile and make my way over to where she’s standing. As she notices me walking in her direction, she tears her gaze from me, embarrassed that she’s been caught.

“Hi,” I yell over the music, holding out my hand. “I’m Lennon.”

She shakes her head, blinking at my hand before looking at me. “I-I know,” she stutters. “I’m a huge fan.” Her hand connects with mine, shaking it nervously. I’m almost certain I’ve met her before, but I can’t for the life of me figure out where.

“Thank you.” I laugh. “What’s your name?”

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. “Sadie…” she states. “Sadie Armstrong.”

And then it clicks.

My eyes widen, and I lean forward, resting a hand on her arm. “Oh, my god!” I exclaim, realizing exactly who she is. “ You’re Sadie? I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you! God, you’re performing at my concert next month—I should’ve known who you are.”

“That’s okay.” She chuckles, her eyes lighting up. “I’m just a baby artist, and I’m sure you’ve had a lot on your mind with planning that. It’s a super fun idea, by the way. Thanks for including me. I’m excited for it.”

I smile. “Thank you for agreeing to it. Though I’m sure you weren’t given much of a choice by the label, I’m glad you’re looking forward to it.”

She laughs softly.

“What are you doing here?”

She glances toward the stage before looking back to me. “Colt is my older brother. He invited me.”

My eyes widen again. I guess I don’t know as much about Colt as I thought, because I had no idea he had a sister, and especially not that it’s Sadie. “Oh, wow. Goes to show what I know.”

“What about you?” she returns my question.

I tear my eyes from her, an awkward chuckle falling from my lips. “I’m, um…kind of seeing Baxter?”

Now it’s her turn to be shocked. Something tells me if Sadie is close to Colt, she’s close to Levi and Baxter, too, and she would find out soon enough.

“Shit,” is all she says.

I pull my lips between my teeth, desperately trying, and failing, not to laugh. “My thoughts exactly.”

“brIDGES BURN” BY NEEDTObrEATHE

I stand with Sadie until the last song of the night starts up, then I turn to her and ask, “I’m going to head to the bathroom before they’re done. Wanna come?”

She nods and follows me, heading toward the bathrooms near the green room.

When we finish, I grasp Sadie by the hand, both of us pushing our way through the crowd of backstage-passholders so we can be the first to greet the guys as they make their way offstage. I’m staring at the floor, trying to watch my step, when I bump directly into someone. Hands wrap around my biceps to keep me from falling over as I glance up, startled.

“Shit, sor—” I begin, losing my train of thought as my eyes find Nathan’s.

Oh, fuck . What are the chances I’d run into my ex-boyfriend at the show of the man currently rocking my world both on and off the stage?

It’s been eight months since I last saw Nate at my parents’ funeral. We stayed in touch a bit over Christmas, but we haven’t spoken since then.

If I’m being honest, I haven’t even really thought about him since then. Which sounds bad, considering we were together for six years, but breaking up with him right after my parents died kind of numbed it for me. The accident changed me for the worse, and it got to the point where I couldn’t stand to be around him.

Our romantic relationship had died long before that day, but I held on simply because even though we weren’t in love anymore, I still loved him dearly. Even now, I hold love in my heart for him. He was comfortable for me—we’d been together since we were seventeen and eighteen and had been friends for even longer than that.

But then the accident happened and my parents died, flipping my whole world upside down. I stopped loving myself entirely, constantly feeling like I was to blame.

I still feel that way from time to time, just a little bit less so now.

Everything changed with my parents gone. I didn’t know who I was anymore. They’d been my biggest constants since the age of six, and I didn’t know how to cope with losing them.

All I wanted—all I still want—was for them to come back, even if just so I could tell them I love you and thank you and goodbye , which I never got to say.

But they couldn’t, and nothing felt right anymore. I didn’t recognize myself. I didn’t recognize my life.

So I did what I do best—I pushed him away. I made the tough decision to end things between us permanently.

I needed to learn to love myself again. I needed to stand on my own two feet for once in my life, because I’d never really done it before. And I couldn’t do that and be with him at the same time.

I missed him at first, but it helped knowing he was at least still alive and well, whereas my parents were not. I still stand by my reasons for ending things. I may be doing better than I was then, but I’m still not fully healed.

I’m not sure that I ever will be.

“Lennon?” Nathan’s eyes go wide as he takes me in. “Oh, my god, how are you?”

He releases my arms as we shuffle off to the side and out of the way of the other concert goers and crew members, my hand still wrapped around Sadie’s. I glance at her sheepishly before looking back to him.

He looks the same—his dirty-blond hair still buzzed short, donned in a black T-shirt and jeans like he always was.

“I’m okay,” I tell him, because it’s the truth. Things have been going better for me as of late, but I still wouldn’t qualify myself as good .

“What are you doing here?” His brows pull together. “You’ve never been a fan of Baxter James.”

I bite my bottom lip as I huff a laugh, scanning the room while I try to think of an excuse. The last thing I need is for Nathan to find out I actually might be his biggest fan now.

Sadie seems to notice my hesitation, replacing her concerned look with a bright smile, and jumps in. “My brother is Baxter’s guitarist, and I invited Lennon to come with me.”

She holds her right hand—the one not grasped in mine—out to Nathan. He takes it with no hesitation, though confusion is clear in his face.

“I’m Sadie. I was signed to Revolution earlier this year, and Lennon and I have become good friends,” she lies easily, and I breathe a sigh of relief, squeezing her hand in a silent thank you.

Nate nods in understanding. “Ah, okay. I’m Nathan—Lennon’s ex-boyfriend.”

Sadie’s eyes widen slightly before she regains her composure. She’s clearly realizing how fucked up a situation this is.

Turning back to me, he smiles. His eyes scan my body before finding my face again. “You look good, Lennon. Happy.”

I smile softly, glancing at the floor before looking back up at him. “Thanks, Nate. So do you. How are you?”

He smiles, looking over my shoulder. I glance behind me, finding a beautiful woman with golden-blonde hair standing behind me, watching us.

My shoulders slump, relief coursing through me. Not that I thought he’d be pining after me—he’s a total catch, just not the one meant for me. But part of me did worry our breakup would hit him harder.

I look back to Nathan with a smirk on my face and my brows raised.

He meets my eyes, a blush rising in his cheeks, and smiles. “I’m good.” He glances at the woman again. “That’s Macy. She and I… We just… I mean?—”

“Nate, it’s okay.” I laugh. “It’s been almost eight months—you’re allowed to move on. In fact, I’m glad you have. I’m happy you’re happy.”

“Thanks, Lens.” He smiles again. “What’s new with you? Anyone special?” He gives me a knowing look, which causes me to blush.

As awkward as this would be for most people, it really isn’t for us. We were friends for way longer than we dated, and though I’ve been distant as of late, I’m glad we can still talk openly with each other, even after everything.

That doesn’t keep me from denying his question, though. Partly because my reasons for breaking up with him are still relevant, and also because I don’t want to admit that the person I’ve moved on with is the one he just watched perform.

So I shake my head. “No one relevant,” I lie. The truth is too scary. “But I am planning a benefit concert for my parents. I’m sure you’ve heard of it… No Strings Attached?”

His face lights up. “I have! I tried to get tickets, but they sold out so quickly. I didn’t know you were in charge, but I should’ve. It’s exactly what your parents would want. I’m proud of you. They would be, too. ”

“Thanks, Nate.” I smile up at him. “I have some backstage passes left, and I can set two aside for you, if you want…” I offer, tossing a thumb behind me toward Macy.

He glances in that direction momentarily as he exclaims, “That would be amazing, Lens. Thank you. It really is good to see you.” He leans down, wrapping his arms around me.

I release Sadie’s hand from mine as I reach up to return the hug. “It’s good to see you, too, Nate.”

He squeezes me closer, and I let him, all our years of friendship flashing through my mind. I’m just about to pull away when the words, “Get your hands off her and walk away before I fucking make you,” come roaring from someone behind me.

My eyes flash open.

Oh, shit.