“Then everyone will know not to talk to you,” Rad adds, freeing his grin.

  “No talking to other boys,” Kieran barks with possession, curling his lip back, and eyeing all the people wandering the streets with drinks in their hands. Slowly, his eyes move over the crowd.

  I blink. “Excuse me? Did I hear what I think I heard?” I huff, putting my hands on my hips. There’s no way in hell they can tell me who I can and cannot talk to. No fucking way.

  “He’s right, Pretty Girl—no more boys. There are four of us. How many more dicks do you need? None. That’s the answer,” Rad says, shaking his head. “Don’t let them look at you. Here, put this damn thing on.” Rad grunts, forcing the Whispered Words shirt over my head, no matter how hard I struggle against him. Kieran chips in, jumping down from the stage after setting his guitar down, forcing my arms through the sleeves, and chuckles when I curse at them, threatening their lives.

  “What the fuck, Rad?” I hiss, pushing him away as he cackles, falling onto his ass. Placing his hands on his knees, he grins more, eyeing the words across my tits.

  “Perfect. Property of… It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it, K?” Pride puffs Rad’s chest out, and he grins with satisfaction.

  Kieran tilts his head when I cross my arms, giving him my meanest scowl. “Yup. Property of Whispered Words. Find a marker, and we’ll print our names on her tits. Then no one will talk to her,” he grunts, looking out at the crowd again from behind me.

  “If you bring a marker anywhere near this, I’ll bite off your fingers,” I growl, poking Kieran in his chest. “Don’t you have shit to do?” I point toward the stage, shooing them again with my hands.

  “Be a good girl,” Kieran whispers in my ear and kisses my cheek, letting the warmth of his lips linger for longer than necessary.

  “Always am,” I murmur through a chill spreading down my body, creating goosebumps. I swear, when his lips touch my skin, my resolve drains down the toilet.

  “We’ll see,” he says, swiping his thumb lovingly across my cheek. Affection lights up his eyes, and a soft smile pulls at his lips.

  “Let’s go, Lover Boy!” Asher barks, waving his hand.

  Kieran nods, hopping back onto the stage and grabbing his gear. Together they stand like a wall, taking deep, soothing breaths.

  “Whispered Words! Whispered Words!” The crowd chants over and over with excitement, holding their brightly lit phones in the air like lighters.

  “You hear that, boys?” I shout over the crowd, leaning my elbows on the tall stage. “They’re calling for you!”

  I grin when the curtain swings open, and they wave to the crowd with bright smiles—swaggering further on stage, oozing confidence from every inch. They captivate the crowd, drawing them in with their grins and waves.

  “Kiss for luck, Pretty Girl?” Rad says, flopping to his belly on stage. Leaning close, he takes my mouth with his, dirtily shoving his tongue in and out. I moan when his hands roam through my hair, pulling me closer.

  At this point, he could pull me on stage and fuck me in front of the crowd right now, and I’d say yes, please. It’d definitely show those bitches who they belonged to. The thrill of their eyes on me sends shivers up my spine, and my pussy clenches, ready to take it further. That is, until a certain asshole lightly kicks Rad in the ribs and clears his throat.

  “Come on, bro. You’re humping the damn stage. Save it for later,” Asher grumbles with a shake of his head.

  “After this, I’m going to fuck you, and you’re going to take it,” Rad pants, raising his brow until I nod. “Good girl.” I shiver when he says those words and watch in awe when he wanders away, setting himself behind his drums set with a relaxed grin.

  Asher watches me from his side of the stage, staring with interest at my heaving chest and flushed face.

  “Are you ready for the carnival after this, Little Brat?” he asks, looking off in the distance at the enormous Ferris wheel lighting up the now darkened sky with its red, blues, and yellows.

  “The carnival?” I gaze over at the carnival rides in full swing.

  Asher smirks, tilting his head at me. “Oh, yes. The carnival. We’ll let loose after this. Besides, I have plans for you,” he rasps, eyeing me up and down.

  “Plans? Wait! What plans?” I blanch, hoping he has time to elaborate or fucking tell me something. Instead, he grins, moving a few feet forward, giving me his back. Strumming a loud tune over the speakers as he tunes his guitar, drowning out my shouts.

  The crowd cheers when Kieran smiles at them from the microphone and then, turning, winks at me like a cocky bastard.

  “Hello, Central City!” Kieran’s raspy voice bellows through the speakers, echoing through what seems like the entire town.

  The crowd reacts immediately, jumping in place and cheering as loud as they can. A smile forms on my lips when he grins at the sea of people looking up at him like he’s a God. Shit. I’m probably looking at him the same way.

  “We love you, Kieran!” Tessa and Sara shout, holding up a poster with all their names and hearts surrounding them.

  I roll my eyes as they jump up and down, jiggling their tits in an effort to get Kieran’s attention and call his name with a girly shriek. Thank God they’re keeping those puppies under wraps. They could poke someone’s eyes out.

  A weird pinch of jealousy roars through me when he looks at them. Fucking looks at them and grins when he reads the poster, giving them the thumbs up. That’s my thumb. Keep it to yourself, assface. Narrowing my eyes, I glue my gaze to his and thankfully; the assface doesn’t drop his eyes to their pointy tits, still freeballing in the night air.

  “Put away your goddamn titties!” I shout, cupping my hands over my lips to amplify my voice.

  Ignoring my demand, they continue to swoon and scream more, inciting weird feelings brewing in the depths of my green monster. I want to rip their hair out and knock their perfect teeth in with one punch and laugh as they scatter on the ground. My fists curl, envisioning tying them to a pole deep in the woods, slathering them in honey, and watching as bears rip them to shreds as they beg for their lives. Try clutching your pearls with no fingers, toes, or body. Fuck.

  Jesus. Deep breaths, River. You damn psycho. Stop plotting their deaths and focus on the music, for shit’s sake. Music is what you live and breathe. Not violence against two stuck-up Lakeview girls who don’t have a chance with the boys rocking out on stage.

  My mouth pops open, watching Kieran work the tiny stage with grace and familiarity. Walking back and forth with a goofy grin, he lays down the first note, inciting the crowd more. They yell and scream, the louder the music gets until all the boys join in and open with their first song. I watch them with matched possession. The thought of other girls touching them makes me stabby. I grip my knife, toying with the handle in my shorts pocket, running my thumb over the words printed across it—River Blue. Touch them and die might be my new mantra.

  I rub my temple. What the hell am I thinking?

  Peeking down at the shirt stretching over my tits, I scoff. Fuck. I’m in this constant war with myself, my mind going to battle with itself repeatedly. Letting go of my reservations is more complicated than I ever thought. Visions of Van and what his stupid ass did to me burn bright. A constant reminder of what could happen if this goes to shit. But taking a deep breath, I shake it off. This is now. I’m having fun. I’m falling hard. And in the end, if I get fucked over. It’ll be my fault. For now, I’m along for the ride. I have to keep telling myself that the further they drag me into their wicked web.

  The music blares through the speakers again, garnering more attention from the late-night crowd enjoying the festival. Person after person loiters with beers in their hands and smiles on their faces, momentarily stopping to catch the free show. Their heads bob, and their swaying bodies move with the tune echoing through the night air. Every hand shoots in the air for what seems like miles, waving around with pure joy. For one singular moment, we live in musical harmony.

  Kieran’s raspy voice blasts through the microphone again and straight through my damn soul, lifting me to a higher plane. Music always calms the storm brewing in my mind and eases my pain. Music erases everything on my plate and sets me free. It sounds silly. But music has always been my escape from the life I’ve lived.

  “Ahem, bitch,” a very unpleasant voice says, knocking me out of my reprieve.

  Fuck my life. Is this how Tessa greets everyone, or is this just reserved for me? Probably just for me. Seeing as she looks down her nose at me for the millionth time.

  I plaster on a fake smile and shove my tits out. Let’s see how much she likes my personalized Whispered Words shirt.

  “How can I help you?” My sugary sweet voice gives me cavities. I’d slam her face into this table a few times if it were up to me. Maybe knock some sense into her stupid skull. They don’t want you. I am theirs.

  She scans my shirt, narrowing her eyes. “We want some shirts,” she says, pointing to mine. “Something like that.”

  I grin more, widening my arms to the shirts folded on the table in front of me. “Sorry, this is an exclusive shirt for their girlfriend.” I freeze, dropping my arms. I probably looked as shocked as her pinched face.

  Heat envelops my neck, creeping onto my face. I wholeheartedly blame my damn jealousy for my decisions. That bitch is going to get me into trouble. But damn, the look on Tessa’s face is worth the fallout. Whatever. I’ll roll with it. Yeah, their girlfriend. All four of them belong to me. If they’re going to put their claim on me, then I’ll return the favor. Maybe I can stamp my name on their dicks.

  “You’re joking, right?” She throws her head back and laughs in my face. “Like they’d ever choose a piece of Central trash like you. You’ve got to be kidding me.” She slaps Sara on the shoulder in laughter, and her friend joins in, screeching along and ruining the damn music.

  I blow out a breath and cross my arms, deciding not to push it. “These are your only options. Not this. This is mine, and so are they.”

  Welp. So much for dropping it. It looks like I’m officially about to throw my hat into the ring. Only I’ll win, not them. I’m always up for crushing my competition. I’m competitive like that.

  “You’ve got to be joking,” Tessa snarls, pounding a fist on the table. “Not you,” she scoffs, looking me up and down.

  Leaning forward, I get right in her face with a bright, knowing grin. She doesn’t know I hang around them every day. Or that they’re my stalkers, watching my every move. They join me at work—both places. Play at my bar and drink my drinks while laughing with me. I said Tessa was my competition before, but the reality is, she’s nothing. I’ve already crossed the finish line and won while she’s in last place, slowly jogging toward the yellow tape. She doesn’t know it yet.

  “Does this face look like it’s joking?” I grin cockily, tilting my head. Sometimes antagonizing the girl who made high school hell is fun. “Back off, Tessa. Buy a shirt or don’t. But you’re holding up the line.” I gesture to the four people behind her, sending her scathing looks for taking so much damn time.

  “Just two shirts, smalls,” Sara says in a hurry, placating her fuming friend.

  I nod and hand them two black shirts with the Whispered Words printed across the chest.

  “That’ll be fifty,” I say, putting them into a black bag and setting it on the table.

  Sara grumbles about the price, digging through her purse. Tessa snatches the bag with a haughty attitude and growls at me, exposing her teeth. Down, girl. I’ll put you in the pound.

  “Let them have their fun with your diseased ass. But they’ll come running back to us, and I can guarantee that,” Tessa hisses, stomping away with her friend in tow.

  “Sure,” I mumble sarcastically, helping the other customers with their purchase and the next after that.

  The show continues for another thirty minutes without any incidents. When the line for merch lulls, I grab my phone, record their performance, and take several stills for their FlashGram. There’s nothing more intoxicating than a sweaty rock star holding their gear on stage, rocking out to the beautiful music they created.

  “This last song goes out to a very special girl,” Kieran says, side-eyeing me from the side of the stage with a knowing grin. “We have a new song for you all! It’s called: The Roaring River.”

  When the new tune comes through the speakers, I sputter, choking on my spit, and he growls my name into the microphone. Finally, after a solid minute of choking on my tongue, I catch my breath and record the song’s chorus. Every word makes my cheeks heat, and butterflies blossom in my stomach. When I peer over at Tessa, her lips set into a straight line, and she frowns in my direction.

  “I won,” I mouth to her and then flip her off for good measure.

  Take that. You mean girl.

  As the music dies, the boys wave their goodbyes at the edge of the stage. Large, beaming grins adorn their faces when the crowd goes nuts, cheering them on with hoots and hollers. Watching from the sidelines, I smile as they jump up and down with their hands in the air. Their music hums through my veins long after the last note. My fingers tap along my bare leg as the beat pounds in my head, never forgotten. Their lyrics will hide in my mind for years to come, even if they fizzle out—highly doubtful at this point. In my mind, we’re already in California, celebrating the win of the Battle of the Bands. Whispered Words isn’t meant for the small stage. They’re meant for the entire world to hear.

  “We want more! We want more! We want more!” the crowd chants, pumping their fists in the air.

  Kieran’s gaze finds mine immediately. With a nod, he grins more and turns back to the crowd.

  “One more!” His voice reverberates through the screaming crowd as they jump for joy.

  Standing back, I dig my phone out of my pocket and hold it up for the last time tonight. Kieran gives me the thumbs up, belting out the first line of their encore song. This time when I press record, I test out the live function on ClockTok, hoping to give their other fans a fiery treat of sweaty man meat performing on stage. And boy, their comments don’t disappoint.

  So, fucking hot!

  I want to lick the sweat from his nipple!

  That one makes me snort and shake my head. No one’s licking that man’s or any of these men’s nipples—but me.

  Wow! They sound so good! They aren’t signed?

  Holy shit, when can I see them in concert? Are you guys coming to Texas?

  Come overseas!

  Kieran girl for life!

  I’d give my left tit for Rad!

  Me too, sister. Me too.

  Asher looks hot!

  Callum’s so cute!

  Flashes of their future fame fly through my mind in rapid succession. I realize then Whispered Words would be famous enough one day to have gaggles of girls following their every move, hoping for a piece of their pie if I left for California and stayed with them. Is this what it will be like? Will I have to swim through an ocean of horny women begging for a piece of what’s mine? Fuck. Why are my thoughts suddenly coming to this futuristic planning of bashing in groupies’ faces? Focus on the present, River! And stay in it.

  “All right, Central City!” Kieran’s breathless voice booms through the speakers, quieting down the rambunctious crowd, growing drunker and drunker by the minute. “You guys have been great! Thanks for having us! Check-in with us on FlashGram and ClockTok to stay updated on our performances. We’ll see you at Dead End on Halloween. Details are on our sites.” He grins, placing the mic back on its stand, waving one last time as I turn off the recording.

  Rad doesn’t waste a minute rushing off stage, whipping his shirt off with an excited whoop. His bare chest glistens with sweat, reflecting off the dull streetlights. It drips down his beautiful abs, forcing my eyes to watch the descent, momentarily stunned by the sight. Shit. They have to stop pulling me in with their bodies, music, and souls. Or I’m a damned goner, for sure. I can keep telling myself over and over that this isn’t going anywhere, that this is in the present. But the more I think about it, the more the future calls. Is it so wrong to want to spend years with them instead of months?

  “Pretty Girl!” he shouts, charging toward me at full speed with mischief glistening in his eyes.

  I grunt when he slams into me, knocking me off my feet. He chuckles when he lifts me into his arms, and his fingertips dig into my ass cheeks until my legs wrap around his waist and my arms around his neck.

  “Oh my God, you’re so sweaty!” I shriek through laughter, beating a hand into his bare shoulders with fake disgust. I swear every inch of my shirt soaks with his sweat and sticks to my flesh. “Gross!” I shriek when he spins me in circles, roaring with laughter.

  Like a child free of worry, he throws his head back, looking up at the sky while clinging to me. These simple moments of pure ecstasy pull me in and keep me in their grasp. When I’m with them—all of them—I’m not River West, the overworked bar manager. I’m just River West—theirs. Carefree from the music infecting my soul, I join him, letting my head fall back and howl at the damn moon.

  The full moon shines down on us like a spotlight, aided by the sparkling stars twinkling above in the cloudless sky. A cool breeze blows through my clothes, soothing the nasty sweat from my skin.

  “Did we blow your panties off?” Rad rasps, leaning in until his nose touches mine when he stops spinning. “Did we rock that shit hard? Cuz, I think we did.”

  His hardened dick presses into my center to prove his point, swiveling around my already-damp panties. The faint memory of his promise an hour before shines like a neon sign in the forefront of my mind. I grind against him, forcing a gasp from his lips, slowly turning into a soft moan.

  I grin, rubbing my nose against his, and let everything go. Our lips graze on a soft kiss, and I hum, gliding my tongue along his sealed lips until he lets me in again. I throw caution to the wind, give in to the nagging feeling slowly taking over, and take what I want. I want him again. Over and over. I want him to lay me down and fuck me behind the curtain where anyone can hear my moans but never get a peek.

 

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