I glance to my left to see Ava watching me with a knowing look on her face, though I can see the concern in her eyes too. I can only smile weakly at her in return, too giddy to worry about what she thinks. I’m too busy having a total moment of realization.
It feels like Jackson is finally seeing me. Really seeing me for the first time.
My entire body buzzes with excitement at the thought. There’s an afterparty tonight. Eli is hosting it at their apartment. Maybe something will…happen between Jackson and me. Something real. Something magical.
A girl can only hope.
The song ends and Jackson grins while the crowd cheers uncontrollably. I glance around, spotting girls with tears streaming down their faces as they scream their heads off for him, and I’m blown away. He’s touched so many. I wonder if he can see it. The power he wields over people with his performance, his songs, his words, his smiles.
Oh God, the smiles.
“Good night,” he says into the mic, and the lights fade, shrouding him in complete darkness. The concert is over.
The girls are still going wild.
“Let’s go backstage and talk to him,” Eli yells at us over the screams. “He told me our names are on a list.”
I nod eagerly, a different kind of anticipation thrumming in my veins, in my head. The excitement of finally getting to see Jackson in the flesh is making me anxious.
Nervous.
We make a human chain and work our way through the crowd, all of us connected by hands or hanging on to the back of someone’s shirt. We head for the backstage area, Eli and I leading the pack, until we’re stopped by a burly looking man with a menacing expression on his face.
“We’re friends of Jackson’s,” Eli says and the guy rolls his eyes. I’m sure he’s heard that before. “No man, I’m serious. Look up our names. Eli Bennett.”
The bodyguard grabs a clipboard that’s hanging on the wall and checks it before lifting his head. “You’re good.”
We each give him our names and he finds every single one of us on the list. I can tell he’s surprised as he opens the chipped black painted door. “Right this way.”
We file through the open doorway. Excitement licks at my skin. It’s been way too long since I’ve seen Jackson. I don’t care how sweaty or smelly he might be after that performance, I want to hug him.
Truthfully? I want to rub myself all over him. Don’t know how he’d react to that, so I’m reminding myself, yet again, to calm down so I won’t act like a groupie.
Within seconds of coming backstage, we find ourselves in a narrow hall with closed doors on either side.
“The dressing rooms,” Gracie announces. She’s dated a few musicians who’ve performed at Strummers in the past, so she should know. “His name should be on the door.”
We find his room with the small chalkboard sign hanging on the wall with his name on it. Eli knocks on the door and tests the handle to find it’s unlocked so he barges in, all of us following behind him.
“Congrats on a fucking awesome performance tonight, bro!” Eli yells, stopping short when he sees what’s happening.
I go still too, my mouth popping open in shock.
Jackson is sitting in a chair in front of a mirror with a very beautiful woman on his lap. She’s clad in a crop top and tiny denim shorts, miles of bare skin on display. Her arms are wound around his neck, her hands in his hair. His arms rest casually around her bare waist, one hand grasping her butt and holding her to him.
Their mouths were fused. He breaks the kiss when he hears us, his wide, slightly wild eyes meeting mine for the briefest moment before he tears them away.
My heart drops. Crashes to the ground, shattering into tiny, jagged pieces.
“Oh. Shit.” He smiles, not the least bit ashamed to be found with a woman on his lap practically humping him. She glances over her shoulder to look at us, a sultry expression on her beautiful face. “Thanks, guys. Didn’t, ah, expect you all to show up back here.”
“What did you expect then? You did leave all of our names with the doorman,” Ava reminds him, sounding pissed.
God, I love my best friend. I’m too shocked to say or feel anything. I’m numb.
And stupid. So, so stupid.
Jackson practically shoves the girl off his lap and rises to his feet, going to Eli so they can perform some complicated, ritualistic handshake they’ve perfected over time before they quickly embrace. “So glad you’re here.”
Eli pulls away, Ava snagging his arm so she can stand directly beside him. “Who’s your friend, Rivers?”
“Ah, this is…” He gestures toward the woman, who glares at him before telling us her name.
“I’m Brit.” She waves. Wipes at the corners of her lipstick-smeared mouth.
My stomach pitches and rolls, like I’m in the middle of the ocean and about to puke my guts out. I can’t stop looking at Brit, wondering what she has that I don’t. She’s tall. All legs and arms and tits and ass. I’m short. And not much in the tits or ass department, especially compared to her. Her hair is blonde, her makeup is perfect and she looks older than us. Definitely older than me, and I’m the youngest one here besides Ava. While we’re the same age, she’s still got me beat by a couple of months.
So that’s what she’s got. Beauty and age and experience. She’s bold and not afraid to go after what she wants.
Basically, the complete opposite of me.
Jackson ignores Brit, which I take no satisfaction in. He’s too busy hugging everyone, and he saves me for last. As if he knows.
Of course he knows. I’ve been the obvious, ridiculously dumb groupie girl for months. Almost two years, if we’re being super specific.
FML times one hundred million.
“Ellie. Baby. You’re looking good.” He wraps me up in a smothering hug that I revel in for only a second.
Okay, fine. Maybe a couple of seconds. I can’t turn off my feelings for him that quick.
He smells like Jackson and a hint of sweat. His body is lean and even more muscular, I swear. And when I feel his lips press against my forehead in a sweet, chaste kiss, I pull out of his arms quickly, not wanting his mouth on me after he kissed Brit—the sexier, far more experienced groupie.
Ugh, I hate him. I’m in love with him, yet I can’t stand him right now.
“I’m so glad you came,” he says, seemingly clueless to my distress. “Did you like the last song?”
“Yes,” I bite out, and that’s all I can say. If I part my lips again, I might let forth a stream of curses and bitter words just for him.
Why are men so oblivious?
He smiles, his expression tender. Just like it always is when he deals with me. “I’m glad. You know I wrote it for—”
“We need to get going, don’t we, Eli?” Ava asks in an extra loud voice, purposely interrupting Jackson. “We have to finish setting up for your party. You’re still coming to the party right, Jackson?”
“Definitely. For sure.” He nods enthusiastically, ignoring her dark tone. It’s so obvious she’s disgusted with him, but he’s not acknowledging it. “Give me some time though. I need to wrap up a few things here first before I can leave.”
His gaze slides to Brit for the briefest second and I want to die.