Page 189 of Silver Sweet

They’re like…a tiny wrench. I can handle them.

Phoenix shoves his fists in his moto jacket. “You don’t need to drink Gunther’s mystery concoction to ‘bond’ with him. In fact, you don’t need to do shit. You do realize those guys love hanging out with you. It’s why they’ve made a fucking base camp on our bus.”

I smile through the wicked headache. “I don’t blame them. I am the life of the party.”

“I’ll be sure to put that on your tombstone.” Phoenix puts on a pair of black sunglasses as the sun emerges from a cloud.

“No need. I’m not dying.”

“Cobalts never die,” he says dryly. “You think you’re immortal, got it.”

“Don’t think it. Hey, wait…” I grab his elbow and nod toward the front of the venue. Three people stand at the entrance like they’re waiting for the concert. Phoenix follows my gaze with a head tilt.

“They showed up early, right?” I ask him.

Phoenix shakes his head. “It’s three p.m. Doors don’t open for another four hours.”

“No, dude. I think they’re in line. We should say hi.”

He rubs at his neck into a deep grimace. “We should go to soundcheck.”

“Fuck soundcheck, Phoenix,” I tell him. “We don’t even sell well enough to add meet-and-greet tickets. We have this golden opportunity to make our own pseudo meet-and-greet.” I’m already walking backward away from him, arms outstretched. “I’ll go by myself if I have to.”

Phoenix doesn’t hesitate long before following me.

I’m all grins. “Knew you couldn’t resist me. I’m irresistible.”

He’s definitely shooting me a glare underneath his shades. “Keep telling yourself that, nepo baby. Maybe your ego will fill the empty spaces tonight.”

I smile. “You’re saying my confidence is a necessity.”

“Arrogance,” he corrects. “Just don’t get your hopes up. These people might be tech waiting for someone to open the doors for…” His voice trails off because the three fans start jumping up and down in excitement as soon as they notice us.

Phoenix mumbles a “shut the fuck up” before I can say anything.

This is one of the best days of my life.

The Carraways has never hadanyoneline up this early before a concert. We greet the two girls and one guy, and they introduce themselves as college students at Boise State University.

Phoenix signs their T-shirts with metallic permanent marker.

I pose for a selfie with the guy, and he throws up a rock-on hand gesture. “Are you going to play ‘Hellbent’?” he asks when he lowers his phone. “I love that one, man.”

“Yeah. One hundred percent. We’re playing the full album.” I lean in between the girls, and they take a pic with me and Phoenix together. He manages to do his version of a smile, where the little edges of his lips lift.

“My favorite is ‘Bruit Préféré,’” the shorter girl tells me. She totally butchers the French, and I fucking love it even more that she was willing to try to say it.

My grin hurts my face.

“It meansfavorite noise,right?” she asks. “What kind of noise were you referring to? Based on the lyrics it feels metaphorical. But maybe there’s a story there?”

I turn to Phoenix with raised brows. “Is there a story there?”

He looks like he could shove me into the small patch of grass next to us. “It’s metaphorical.”

Yeah, it’s not.

His favorite noise is the one I make when I’m underneath him and getting absolutely ravaged by his dick.