I manage a shaky smile.
“Does Trav make you travel in this so he knows where you are?”
“Most likely, he has that possessive streak, not creepy though, I hope.”
She laughs. “Travis Phoenix can be possessive and jealous if he likes, because he’s hot enough to do so.”
“Apparently,” I laugh.
“You lucky bitch, in his arms. I live for that man.”
I nod, breathless. “Me too.”
My phone buzzes. I glance down.
T: See you soon?
“Trav?” Reagan leans closer.
I nod. “Yeah.”
V: I’m already on my way.
T: How was your day?
I consider deflection, then choose honesty.
V: It was okay.
T: Just okay?
V: Just okay, rockstar. See you soon.
T: Later, baby x
We arrive at the packed venue. The roar of the crowd rattles my ribs. I don’t get a second with Travis before he hits the stage, but I feel his presence like electricity when he appears. Shirtless, black jeans shredded, his body gleaming under blue spotlights. My heart hammers. He drops to his knees, slides across the stage, and we all surrender.
I scream, dance, cheer—play the devoted fan. Reagan sways beside me, drinks in hand. Then a woman shimmies up to the stage for the finale. She presses against him, fingers tracing his spine like she's done this a hundred times before—another choreographed moment in his carefully staged performance. He leans in as the music swells, their lips meet beneath the spotlight's harsh glare. He doesn't push her away. The crowd roars its approval while my stomach plummets, a free-fall through ice.
Three seconds of staged intimacy, and my world shatters.
I’m drunk—enough that I stagger and collapse into a man nearby. He steadies me with a grin and a drawl, “Whoa there, darlin’. Not every day a beautiful girl just stumbles into me.”
I don’t know what has gotten into me, this wild jealousy that is so childish, yet fuelled by alcohol. I take the man, and I grab his face and kiss him. He is obviously shocked, but quickly responds, like I have made his entire night.
My vision swims.
Then a bellow cuts through the music, “What the fuck?!”
The crowd parts as Travis quite literally launches off the stage and barrels forward, hauls the guy off me and connects his fist with the man's face, sending a sickening crack through the crowd. I stumble back, landing hard on my ass. Heat and fear spike through me. Travis roars, and a crowd of hands yank him away. His eyes blaze on me: betrayal, rage. He strides over, grabs my arm and hauls me up, before dragging me into a locked side room.
The slam echoes.
Silence.
Then his voice, low and furious. “What the hell were you doing?”
I blink. “Excuse me?”