Page 284 of Silver Sweet

Him.

Phoenix’s hand hovers near me, his fingers brushing so subtly against the tips of mine, until his fingers rake upward along my opened palm. Then slide down against it.

He would hold my hand if he could.

He would do more if I wanted him to.

He tries so hard not to fold me into his chest, and it’s honestly a true miracle he hasn’t made out with me publicly backstage yet.

I am that irresistible.

Really, though, he’s patient. More than I’ve given him credit for.

I close my hand over his, holding his hand. His brown-blue eyes snap down to me in confusion.

I let go.

His chest rises and falls in a deep breath. Then he leans into my ear. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“I’m just grinning, Phoenix.”

“No.” He sweeps my lips. “You’regiddy.” He stares me down. “You’re about to fucking crowd-surf, aren’t you?”

“You want a warning?!” I shout over the sudden shrieking, the audience recognizing we’ll be out soon.

“No.” He twirls his sticks. “Do your thing, nepo baby. I’ll be watching.”

I let him have the last word.

Fitting my IEMs back in my ears and strapping my guitar to my chest, I’m ready for this part, the best part, and I greet the fevered crowd for the encore. Red lights flash into pure purple.

The crowd detonates into an uproar—bellowing with life while we perform “Killer Ultraviolet” with everything in us.

All the heart, the blood, the emotion-stricken hours and minutes and seconds we spent led to here.

To right now.

We don’t end there this time. Phoenix has to gather his breath before the final song, so while he swigs water, I speak to everyone.

They fall hushed when I say, “We thought about how we wanted to say goodbye to all of you, but then we realized, thereare no goodbyes when memories like tonight will live on forever. So when you walk out of here, keep on remembering how you felt in this second, this moment, with the people around you. Don’t let that feeling go.” I peer back at Phoenix, my chest swelling.I know I never will.

He looks me over, then gives me a nod.

I turn back to the audience. “This is our last song tonight. Thank you all for being here. We’re The Carraways.”

We close out the show to our cover of “Under Pressure”—the only song where Phoenix sings too.

They recognize the classic Queen and David Bowie hit the second the melody strikes. Everyone goes wild. I don’t even have to guide the crowd to clap. They already add to the beat. Hands in the chilled air.

We all create a fire in the cold.

I use up the whole stage, guitar set away, and my body is free as I belt out every verse from my core. Like always with “Under Pressure,” I find myself singing to Phoenix with a grin so wide my face aches.

He plays drums. His unguarded, soulful eyes are on me as he sings, his tenor haunting and honeyed. Pleasing to the ear.

To my ears.

This song—this song resounds inside my body. I hit the high note, and Phoenix smiles as bright as the glittering lights speckling the crowd. He smashes his sticks voraciously into the drums, and I sing lyrics of “love” to him. His long verse, where he sings it back, has uncoiled me. Every word leaving his lips tugs at my heartstrings.