shattering.
Someone knocks on the door. “Luna, let’s go. Time’s up!” Van shouts from the other side. Neither of us moves until we’re both completely spent. I fix my dress and slide my panties back in place while he fixes his clothing. He hides behind the door as I open it. Van is there to greet me.
“What the fuck were you doing in there? Sounded like you were having sex with all that moaning,” he jokes.
As I step into the hallway, I close the door behind me and shrug as we start walking to the stage. “I like to rub one out before a show. It helps with the nerves,” I lie, but even the lie is embarrassing.
His eyes double their usual size as his feet stop walking. “Did you just say you were masturbating in there?”
I roll my eyes. “What? You think guys are the only ones who do it?”
“No, but I thought we were the only ones who admitted to doing it,” he says as he forces his feet to get back to walking.
We’re at the side of the stage now and people are handing us our instruments.
“Hey guys,” Van says, getting the attention of the other two, “guess what Luna does before a show!” He’s smiling from ear to ear.
“What?” Lane asks, completely unaware of our previous conversation.
“She rubs one out,” he says.
The guys’ mouths drop open as their eyes land on mine. My face is on fire, but what else can I do? I can’t say I was having sex with Daniel in there.
“What? No way!” Lane says.
“Her exact words,” Van laughs.
Ridge smiles and nods toward me. “That’s hot, Luna.”
“Ugh, shut up and get serious. We’re on.”
Suddenly we hear the club owner say, “Please give a warm welcome to the next big thing, The Wonder Kings!”
The lights go dark and the crowd gets quiet. My fingers start sliding across the strings. The crowd starts to scream and the pyrotechnics go off—fire shooting up in the air. Then we rush the stage. The music comes easy and it’s a song we’ve been playing for years, so it’s like my lips know the words and my fingers know the chords all on their own. I don’t even have to focus on this song, so I do my job of playing and singing, but my eyes are taking in the crowd before us. They’re screaming and jumping up and down, dancing with the music. Camera flashes are going off and there’s even a guy on the ground with a camera, recording the show.
We get exactly 20 minutes to play, and we need to have this crowd eating out of the palms of our hands before we leave. We want them buying T-shirts and digital downloads before they leave—pumping them up so they want to come and see us on tour and buy the vinyl once it’s released. The rest of our time is spent focusing on doing our jobs and putting on a hell of a show. This is nothing like our previous performances, but nothing compared to what the future will bring. This isn’t some small, smoke-filled bar. It’s a big amphitheater, holding thousands of people. Laser lights and fire dance around us. It’s a whole production.
We finish up the last song and the crowd roars. They’re all up out of their seats—jumping, cheering, screaming, and waving. I laugh as I look out over them. “Thank you, Chicago!” I say into the mic before tossing my pick into the crowd. I turn and walk off stage, handing over my guitar to the guy who handles the equipment. I can hear the guys following me. They’re just as pumped as I am. They’re talking and laughing—getting rowdy and pushing each other around—but there’s only one place I want to be. In my dressing room with him.
I walk in and close and lock the door behind me. Daniel is sitting on the couch as the TV in front of him plays the show through a live feed. I turn to him with a wide smile as he springs up from his seat.
“That was amazing, beautiful,” he says, moments before his lips crash into mine. I jump into his arms, with my arms wrapping around his neck and my thighs moving around his hips. He kisses me full of passion and heat. This kiss is hard and fast as he lays me down on the couch. I can feel his excitement and it’s pressing against my core, only causing my already excited