Page 78 of Just Wait

Riser pops up at my side as Kincaid guides us toward the security guards that wait in front of the VIP entrance. “It’s crazy. Right?”

“It is.” I nod and smile. “It’s also kind of amazing.”

He chuckles. “It’s definitely an adrenaline rush.”

The VIP section is amazing. It’s much less packed than the main club, but there are still a lot of people, including a shit ton of fans. They’re not shy about coming over to ask for autographs and pictures.

It’s not like I can judge.

I would have been one of those people if I had seen Liminal in the wild a year ago. Knowing them a tiny bit better, I can imagine how hard it is to not even be able to enjoy a night out without being bombarded by fans.

I’m sure that’s true for all celebrities.

Riser and I end up next to each other on one of the leather love seats. He mentioned that no one notices if the drummer skips the after-party, and I can better understand what he meant.

The number of fans who have gone up to Kincaid, Malcolm, and Tennyson is probably three times more than who have stopped to speak to Riser.

Parish is around the same level as Riser. I would normally attribute that to him being new to the band, but Tennyson joined at the same time.

It’s well known that women love guitar players, and they especially go feral for the frontman. Malcolm plays rhythm guitar, but he’s smoking hot and has killer stage presence.

The fact he and Kincaid regularly swap guitars mid-song, completing each other’s parts, might have something to do with why he’s so recognizable.

Or it’s that whole he’s incredibly attractive thing.

“How ya doing, Lumen?” Riser asks, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “Bored of hanging out with us yet?”

“No, not at all.” I chuckle, letting my face rest against his chest. It’s a sneaky attempt to soak up his chamomile scent. “Okay, I could have lived without mini golf, but I will go to my grave denying I ever said that. Malcolm was so excited to plan a night out for us, and I really did have fun playing the arcade games.”

I suck in deep hits of Riser’s scent, tilting my face up to try to see his. It doesn’t work very well, but breathing him in is calming, and I enjoy touching him.

While I love the rush of free energy that uppers provide, the comedown is always rough. The spiraling, ugly thoughts that seemed to magically disappear come sneaking back in full force.

It’s brutal.

Coke makes me feel pretty and invincible, like I’m on top of the world. It’s instant confidence in line form, and without that buzz, I’m starting to feel out of place. I wasn’t afraid or intimidated coming in past all the paparazzi, but I’ll have to deal with the pictures tomorrow.

Damn.

I wish I was braver without needing an artificial boost.

My hand lands on Riser’s chest, and I run my fingers over the design on his long-sleeve T-shirt.

“Yeah, I probably wouldn’t have planned mini golf for a first date,” he says, laughing. It makes my face bounce with the vibration. “But he’s never planned a date before, period. Taking that into account, I’d say he did a pretty solid job.”

I push up and study Riser’s face.

“You know that for a fact, or you’re guessing based on what you know of Malcolm?” I keep my tone light and not accusatory.

“He mentioned it in the hotel while you were getting ready.” Riser’s dark eyes flit across my face as he studies me. “He likes you a lot. He was crazy hyped to take you on a date.”

Does it count as a date if the rest of the band tagged along?

I think it does.

Damn.

I peek over at Malcolm, checking what he’s up to. He stands with a small group of fans.