Page 56 of Rush

“Ooh, kinky,” Riley says, grinning like a menace.

“You two are so weird,” Broderick murmurs, shaking his head.

“Don’t hate us coz you ain’t us,Bradley,” Riley quips.

“You have no idea just how weird we get, Brody,” I tease.

I brush a tendril off Riley’s face.

Her brow lifts as she picks up the silent exchange.

“Sleeping next to each other, showering together,” she adds tracing her fingertips up my arms and I have to stifle a giggle at the way it tickles.

“We used to practice making out with each other,” I pile on, my voice dripping with mock seduction.

Broderick’s eyes sparkle with amusement, maybe he’s imagining it. He swallows—hard.

“Ah, the good old days,” Riley sighs with a giggle. “I’m glad you finally got those braces off.”

“I’m glad you finally figured out what to do with your tongue,” I bite back.

“What’s this I hear about you two making out?” Andrew chimes in.

“They’re being weird again,” Philippa says, rolling her eyes. She’s long used to our chaos by now. There was a time she got jealous of how close Riley and I were—but eventually, she fell for Riley’s charm like everyone else.

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know,” Riley says and we burst out laughing as we head into the suite for refreshments, then return to the viewing balcony to watch the rest of the show.

Ava is mesmerizing.

I’ve always admired her—her talent, her work ethic—but seeing her command a crowd of fifteen thousand people tonight is something else entirely.

Well…maybe noteveryone’sattention.

Because I can feel Broderick stealing glances at me when he thinks no one is looking.

When the show finally wraps, the adrenaline still buzzes through the air. We’re all tipsy and giddy, floating on the high of it. Philippa and Andrew leave first, wrapped up in their own little world, laughing about something I don’t catch.

Riley lingers, swirling the last of her drink before pulling me into a bone-crushing hug.

“You were a star tonight, babe,” she whispers against my ear. Then, pulling back just enough to smirk, she tilts her head toward Broderick. “I thinksomeonewants to talk to you.

“Alright, I got booty call with a hunk-a-spunk…don’t wait up,” she says waving as she walks out.

And then—it’s just us.

The space feels quieter now, emptied of bodies but heavy with unspoken things. Broderick leans against the railing of the viewing balcony, watching the crew dismantle the world we just lived in. His hands buried in his pockets, shoulders loose—but there’s a quiet tension in him, waiting for permission to move.

I step closer, standing beside him, close enough that a single inch would have our arms touchingagain.

We both watch as stagehands unplug the lights, shadows swallowing sections of the arena.

“That was something,” he murmurs.

“It was,” I breathe, glancing up at him.

He looks down at me, his gaze heavier than before, something swirling beneath the surface.

Then he steps closer, tucking my hair behind my ear. “I’ve never seen you like that.”