Page 52 of Scream For Me
My fingers brush the seam absentmindedly. This dress shows far more than I’m used to, but there’s obviously a reason he bought it for me. I wonder how he’ll react. Warmth hugs low in my belly at the thought.
A wolf whistle breaks me out of my trance.
“If I weren’t gay, I’d bang you,” Luca says, making an obscene gesture with his hands.
“If Iweregay, I’d bang you,” Harper joins in, staring straight at my cleavage.
They turn to look at Ryland, who’s absentmindedly twirling his drumsticks. He steals a quick glance at me. “You look hot, Kat,” he says, flashing a quick glance at Harper before going back to twirling his drumsticks.
A hot blush creeps into my cheeks. “Aw, thanks, guys,” I say with a smile, although I’m pretty sure it doesn’t reach my eyes.
Harper steps closer, leaning into my ear. “I wonder who will be in the audience tonight?” she asks with a wiggle of her eyebrows. Her tone is playful, but there’s a reminder underneath it. A reminder that says, ‘I hope you know what you’re doing, girl.’
Harper spotted the dress the moment I walked into the dressing room with it draped over my shoulder. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to—that bitch notices everything when it comes to me. But she was absolutely coveting it, checking the label to see where she could get one of her own.
“We’ll have to wait and see, won’t we?” I counter with a smile that reaches my eyes this time.
“You’re smiling,” she murmurs.
“I am.”
A knock rattles the door, indicating our two-minute warning.
I turn back to the mirror and reach for my jacket out of habit, but I hesitate. Staring at my reflection, I lift my chin, ignoring all the sensations in my body that are born out of habit and I slowly set the jacket back down.
I grab my guitar and cowl, pulse quickening. Ryland opens the door, and the muffled roar and voices of the crowd seep through the walls. My stomach dips briefly and I draw in a slow breath. No matter how many times we play, unease still creeps in right before we step on stage—a reminder that anything can happen.
We take the same narrow hallway we always do towards the stage, each of us falling into a familiar step behind each other. As we get closer to the stage, it’s obvious this is our biggest crowd yet. Each time we play, the audience grows but this is the biggest leap we’ve had so far. We exchange looks, equal parts nerves and excitement.
When we step onto the stage, the lights are momentarily blinding even through the cowl. My eyes scan the crowd; eager faces blur into one as I search for the only one that matters.
Elias stands at the back of the crowd, where he always is. But this time his gaze is a fucking inferno. Even from across the room, he feels separate from everyone else. The crowd shifts and sways around him, bodies packed shoulder to shoulder under the lights.
But his posture is dangerously still as his eyes roam over my body. I hold his gaze, feeling the heat of it pool low in my belly. I hold his stare, giving him a small smirk. His features harden, but I refuse to drop my gaze.
Ryland begins to count us down, my hands finding their place on the fretboard through muscle memory alone. Elias’s eyes do not move from me. Not when Ryland finishes the count. Not when Harper sings the first note. Not when the crowd erupts into cheers. They stay locked on mine.
This is going to be the most torturous set yet.
The cheers of the crowd fill the room, echoing against the walls as we take our final bow before exiting the stage and returning down the narrow hallway.
“Bravo, everyone,” comes a deep voice in front of us that I would recognize anywhere.
“Cheers, boss man,” Ryland says, clapping Elias on the shoulder.
Elias’s nostrils flare, but Ryland is completely oblivious, casually twirling his drumsticks as he heads towards thedressing room with Luca. Harper gives me a quick wink, nodding her head towards Elias as she follows.
He keeps his eyes trained on me. “Kat, may I see you in my office?” he asks, a formal tone to his voice—one that I haven’t heard before. The way he says it makes my stomach drop. A bead of sweat forms at the nape of my neck, and my pulse hammers in my ears.
I swallow and nod my head. I’m suddenly very aware of the way the slit in my dress brushes against my bare thigh as I follow him up the stairs. I catch a glimpse of his profile, and his face contorts with something I cannot place. Each step of the stairs feels heavy as a knot forms in my stomach. What if this was a mistake? My hand reaches for the comfort of my necklace, sighing as I touch the cool metal.
He opens the door to his office and gestures for me to go inside. He walks towards his desk, and I pull my guitar over my head, resting it carefully in the corner of the room.
The silence is fucking deafening.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, although it sounds too loud.
Elias turns on his heels, his brows knitted in confusion. “You think I’m angry?”
