Two people who hadn’t spent more than a night of quality alone time together in over a month, shouldn’t be anxious to be apart.
* * *
By the time I needed to head out to get ready for the concert, I’d completed one painting in my alternate plan. I still kept going back to my sketches of my original idea—erasing, tweaking, longing to bring them to life. I locked everything up and went out to the curb where Beckett was waiting.
Between a late lunch and my nerves, my stomach wasn’t in any condition to take on dinner. Thankfully, Beckett had eaten while he worked. After a detour to my apartment so I could change clothes, we were on our way to the venue. I’d had an odd feeling all day. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but it was almost like someone was watching me, judging me.
Beckett proudly flashed our VIP lanyards at the parking attendant, who motioned us towards the special parking lot where the buses were. It was almost showtime, so security wouldn’t let us backstage.
My heart vacillated between relief and disappointment. Beside me, Beckett vibrated like a band stretched too tightly. An attendant showed us to our seats, front row center. I sank into my spot, while Beckett leaned against the metal barricade separating the seats from the stage.
“Izzy,” Joe rumbled as he approached from the other side of the divider.
I jumped up and wrapped my arms around him. “How have you been?” I was so happy to see him.
“Been good. I hope you have been too.” He squeezed me tightly.
I nodded.
“Dawson wanted me to come let you guys know that during intermission, someone from security is going to come grab you two so you can watch the second half of the show from backstage if you want.”
A squeal came from my right. I glanced up at Beckett. “I take it that you’d like that?”
“Mmmhmm.”
I chuckled. I’d never seen him so giddy and child-like before. “That’d be wonderful, Joe. Tell the guys I said break a leg.”
“Will do. See you in a bit.” Joe waved as he ambled away.
Later, when the house lights dimmed, I tugged on the back of Beckett’s shirt. “You can sit down you know. No one’s going to be in front of you blocking the view.”
“I’m too excited to sit.” His weight shifted from foot to foot.
His enthusiasm was rapidly squashing my nerves. I was glad that I could be part of giving him this bit of joy. He’d rarely ever let loose and enjoyed himself, so it was a sight to behold.
He glanced down at me. “What?”
“I’ve never seen you like this. So carefree and excited. It looks good on you.” I gave him a shy smile.
He flashed me a cheesy grin, then joined the throng of fans chanting, “LO, LO, LO.”
The lights went out completely, bringing a hush across the auditorium. When they flashed back on, the guys were on stage and pandemonium erupted.
Tap, tap, tap. “How are you doing, South Carolina?” Dawson shouted into the mic.
The crowd went wild. My heart did too.
“We’re so happy to be here playing for what we consider to be one of our hometown crowds. We’re going to give you some old stuff, some new stuff and some stuff from great South Carolinian musicians.”
He strummed the E-minor three times, then launched into the band’s biggest hit, to the delight of the crowd. Beckett proudly belted every word, while I sang under my breath, trying to keep a tight rein on my emotions.
When the band paid tribute to South Carolina native band, Hootie and the Blowfish, Dawson stared in my direction every time the words of the chorus left his lips. Was he trying to say that he only wanted to be with me?
♪ Only Wanna be with You by Hootie and the Blow Fish
As the night wore on, Beckett glanced back at me more frequently when it seemed Dawson was singing in our direction. But the smile never left his face. It amped up my anxiety though, making it hard for me to lose myself in the music like I’d always done in the past at Dawson’s shows.
After a dozen or so songs, Dawson pulled up a stool to his mic. As he sat, he strummed absentmindedly. “We’ve got one more for you before we take a quick fifteen-minute break. Then we’ll come back and rock some more. This song is actually from a new guy on the country music scene. He’s pretty cool. I met him a few weeks ago. He was singing this song we’re going to play for you. The words of the song really hit me. So, pay attention to the lyrics. See if they hit you like they hit me.”
For the first time all night, Beckett sank into his seat. Dawson turned his body slightly on the stool, so he was fully facing me. He started to sing about a couple in a relationship. The song was catchy and upbeat. I somehow hadn’t heard the country version, but I imagined the guys had added a rock twist to it in their signature style.
Staring into Dawson’s eyes, I became lost in a trance, and the world faded away. When he hit the hook, the words sank in and gripped my heart like they were delivering a message directly to me.
“There’s a difference between ‘Miss ya’ and ‘I miss your face’. And there’s a difference in ‘What’s going on? and ‘Baby, how was your day?’. Yeah, there’s a helluva difference in saying three words or kinda just meaning two. And there’s a difference in ‘Love ya’ and ‘I love you’. I wanna be the difference.”
♪ The Difference by Tyler Rich
As the song continued, I twisted my fingers in my lap, wringing them together. Beckett’s presence only added to my distress.
When Dawson hit the final chorus, the instruments stopped, and he crooned into the mic. His eyes sparkled as he sang, “I love you.”
Then the guys were leaving the stage, promising to return.
How was I supposed to go backstage, after that? How was I supposed to face my boyfriend when those lyrics were floating around in my mind? Sparking questions and highlighting answers.
Before I could get too swept up in the hurricane of my thoughts, Beckett grabbed my hand and gently pried open my fingers. His strong fingers clasped mine. “Isabelle, I think we need to talk.”
I blinked rapidly as my gaze met his sincere one. “Don’t you want to go backstage now?”
“Maybe in a minute. This is important.” His lips pressed into a thin line.
“OK.” I was filled with trepidation.
Joe walked up in front of us, motioning for us to jump over the barricade.
“Hey, Joe, can you give us a few minutes?” I asked.
“Sure. I’ll wait right over there. But intermission is only fifteen minutes long,” he said, tapping his watch.
“We’ll be ready before then,” Beckett assured him.
Twisting in my seat, I turned to face him better, my knees bumping his.
His free hand cupped my cheek as sadness took over his features. “Isabelle, this isn’t working anymore.” He sighed deeply, then continued, “Maybe it never really was, and we just didn’t know it.”
♪ Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve
“What do you mean?” My brain was still reeling from my emotional hurricane. I couldn’t process what was sure to be a serious conversation.
“We aren’t working. And I think you’re starting to sense it too,” he said in a somber voice.
“I know I’ve been confused and distracted. I never meant to shut you out or hurt you,” I started, feeling the need to explain.
“Shhh. It’s OK. This isn’t me blaming you for anything or mad about anything. This is me finally accepting the truth that’s been niggling in my mind for a while now. You and Dawson…” he trailed off, waiting for me to expound.
“Used to be a couple. Before I got sick. I hadn’t seen him in two years until my parents’ party. I swear, nothing’s happened.” My heart raced. I never meant for Beckett to get hurt.
He frowned at me. “I know that. You aren’t the kind of person who would cheat.”
Not physically at least. Internally, I beat myself up for emotionally cheating. Tears gathered in my eyes, ready to spill
my guilt.
“Don’t cry—” Beckett’s voice was alarmed.
♪ Don’t Cry by Guns ‘n Roses
“Izzy, if you’re going to come back stage, we need to get going,” Joe called from where his large frame rested against the stage.
I held up my finger. “One second.”
“Look, we can talk more tomorrow. I’ll come by your place. You think you can get a ride home tonight?” Beckett asked.
“Yeah,” I said, my voice full of hesitation. I still couldn’t process what was happening. “Why now though? Why right before you get to hang out with the band?”
“Because I did like Dawson said. I listened to those lyrics. And I get it. There is a difference. And you and I don’t have it.” He squeezed my hand as a tear slipped out from one of my eyes. “But we both deserve it. And I think the difference is waiting for you backstage. I’m not going to stand in the way of that. Love like that doesn’t come around often. I want it for you. Hell, I want it for me.” His lips tipped up in a sad smile.
He reached up and wiped a stray tear from my cheek. “You don’t have to go,” I protested, not wanting to let go of the force that had kept me calm through so much chaos over the past couple of years.
“I might recognize love and encourage you to go for it, but I’m not strong enough to want to be surrounded by it right now. Please understand and forgive me for bailing on you,” Beckett pleaded.
“I understand,” I whispered.
Joe walked over.
“Please thank the guys for inviting me. I’ll come by tomorrow so we can talk. But I’ll call first,” Beckett said as he stood and pulled me to my feet.
His strong arms enveloped me. They were stability, warmth, goodbye.
He leaned me back so he could look into my eyes. “Now go claim the love you deserve and start living life instead of existing. Don’t worry about me. Or us. We’ll always be friends. As your doctor, I’m ordering you to go take care of your heart.”
My heart felt heavier and lighter at the same time. I squeezed him tightly. “Thank you. And I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” he said as he lifted my body over the barricade and set me down next to Joe. “Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.” I watched him squeeze past the seated fans and make his way up to the exit.
“Your boyfriend leaving?” Joe asked from beside me.
“He’s not my boyfriend anymore,” I mumbled, still in disbelief.
“Hmmm. New development?”
“Thirty seconds ago.” I shook my head at the chaotic turn of events.
“Come on, we have to hurry. You’ll have just enough time to say hello,” Joe urged.
I had to nearly jog to keep up with him. I’d forgotten how quickly he moved. We dodged people who were milling around until we got to where the guys lounged, guzzling bottles of water and mopping sweat from their faces with towels. For once there were no groupies or hangers-on.
Pterodactyls took flight in my belly as I took in Dawson, one leg drawn up on the wall he was propped against, a towel around his neck, lips glistening with the water he’d just downed, mouth set in a firm line. So much emotion swirled in his eyes when they finally met mine. A smile lit up his face before he schooled his reaction, trying to reveal nothing.
He forgot that I knew him—knew him better than I knew myself. He leaned to the side, peering behind me. Confusion marred his face.
On shaky legs, I moved forward, stopping a few inches in front of him. “That was amazing,” I breathed out.
“Thanks, Izzy,” Brooks said as he turned and moved down the hallway. He tugged Wilder with him.
“Catch you after the show,” Maddox said, following behind them.
Soon it was just me and Dawson.
“Where’s Beckett?” he tried to sound casual, but the tightness around his mouth and his clenched fists betrayed his true feelings.
“Gone,” I stated matter-of-factly.
“What do you mean gone? Like to the bathroom? Or he had an emergency? Or…” Dawson’s voice trailed off.
“Like he said you were right, so he left.” I shrugged.
“Huh? Right about what?” Dawson asked, hope lighting his amber-colored eyes.
“Right about there being a difference. And he and I don’t have it,” I whispered. My fingers twisted a lock of hair nervously.
“Oh. So, you guys what… broke up?” he asked.
“Looks that way.” My lips pressed firmly together, holding in everything I longed to say.
“Are you OK?” Concern colored his features.
“I’m still kind of in shock and trying to process it, you know? It took me by surprise.” I held up my hands in surrender.
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “No, I take that back. He’s a good guy, and I’m sorry that he doesn’t get to have someone as wonderful as you.”
He reached out and grabbed my hand, linking our fingers, pure joy lifting his face. “And I’m sorry your feelings might be hurt. I always hated when you were hurt.” He gave my hand a squeeze. “But I have to be honest. I’m not sorry that you’re here and your heart is free… It is free, right?”
The doubt on his face nearly broke my heart.
“I’m sorry it isn’t free,” I confessed quietly.
The crestfallen look made my eyes fill with tears. I stepped close enough to cup his cheek. “My heart hasn’t been free since I was a kid. When I was six years old, I gave it to my best friend. And he’s had it ever since.”
The storm left, and the sun broke through. He swept me up in his arms, spinning me around in a happy circle. My arms wound around his neck. “I know we still have a lot to work through and talk about before we can get back to where we were… If we can ever get back to where we were. But, I’m far too ecstatic to have you back in my arms again to talk about that stuff now—”
“Two minutes, Dawson,” Joe said from behind me.
“Damn. I wish the show was over. I’m not ready to let you go,” he murmured, his warm breath washing over my face.
“I’m not ready to be let go of yet.” I rested my forehead against his.
“Ninety seconds,” Joe warned.
“Gah,” Dawson groaned and closed his eyes in resignation. Slowly, he lowered my feet to the floor. “Stay right here, OK? Don’t go anywhere.” He stared beseechingly at me.
“I’ll be right here when you’re done. I promise,” I vowed.
♪ In My Life by the Beatles
“I know it’s too soon, but what the hell.” His lips crashed into mine, branding and demanding.
The kiss was bruising and sent my heart into orbit. Our tongues had just begun to dance and reacquaint themselves with each other when a throat cleared behind me.
Exasperated, he pulled back.
“It’s like prom all over again. The chaperone breaking up our PDA,” I said with a chuckle.
Laughter burst from his lips, swollen with my kiss. It was enough to calm the energy crackling between us. I stepped back from him so he could go take his place on stage.
“I love you, flutterby.” He pressed one more sweet kiss on my mouth before he ran for the steps as the music started up on stage.
“Hey, Dawson,” I shouted at his back.
He turned around and quirked his brow at me.
“I love you too.”
The rest of the show passed in a blur. Dawson spent as much time looking at me waiting in the wings as he did at the crowd. Before I knew it, Dawson was shouting in the mic, “We love you, South Carolina. We’ll see you next year. Goodnight.”
Normally, the last one off the stage, tonight Dawson was first, not even waiting for Jett to come from behind his kit.
As he thundered down the steps, he was a man on a mission. Like a heat-seeking missile, he bore down on me, waiting off to the side, out of the way. Then I was home in his arms where I belonged.
Sweat made his shirt cling to his skin, showing off all his lean muscles. The
fabric was damp against my fevered skin. It was familiar. I couldn’t count the number of times his sweaty body had pressed against mine after concerts over the years. I hadn’t even realized I’d missed it. What a weird thing to miss.
“You’re still here,” awe laced his words.
“Of course. I said I would be.” I beamed at him.
“I was halfway convinced I was dreaming,” he said as he burrowed his face against my neck.
“If we’re dreaming, I don’t want to wake up.” My arms tightened around him.
“Me neither.” Turning to Joe, he said, “I’ll be at the meet and greet after I give Izzy a fitting hello and change really quick. We’ll be in my dressing room.”
Stooping, he slung me over his shoulder like a cave man and dashed down the hall, yelling for people to move out of the way. Thankfully, his arm anchored across my thighs kept my dress from flying around and flashing everybody.
Laughing, I swatted his butt as he ran, bumping me up and down. I hadn’t felt so carefree in ages. His dressing room was dark, except for the light flooding in from the bathroom, like always.
He tossed me onto the couch, then braced himself over me. The weight of his lower body pressing against mine was deliciously familiar.
“And does it make me a total a-hole that I want to kiss the breath out of you given that you just got dumped a couple of hours ago?” he said, the words caressing my lips.
“Hey, now,” I admonished as I pouted. “Saying I got dumped sounds so terrible.”
He leaned down and kissed my pouting lips, nibbling on them until they fell out of their sullen position and into an elated grin.
“Does it make me a be-ya-tch that I really want you to kiss the breath out of me right now?” I asked against his lips.
“No, you could never be that, and I’m not an a-hole,” he confirmed.
“Well, now that that’s settled, what are you waiting for?” I teased.
“Love me like you do,” he sang as his mouth moved over my face.
Songs of the Heart: Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series Book 3 Page 12
