Myles shrugs.“But it felt a little...I don’t know.Off?I thought you’d have more, like, rockstar energy.”
I roll my shoulders, avoiding her gaze.The last thing I want to do is to have tonight’s performance get back to Tessa.Thank god she and Ethan weren’t able to make it tonight.“Sorry, I just wasn’t feeling it.A little distracted, I guess.Tomorrow night will be better.”
She studies me for a beat, then shakes her head.“Well, London’s thrilled.Packed house.Drinks flowing.The club made a killing.So, don’t sweat it too much.”
I don’t respond.Because none of that means anything when I feel like I just played a set on autopilot.
Myles watches me a second longer, then exhales through her nose.“Anyway, I came back here to let you know we’ve got a space for you and the crew for the after-party in the Upper Tier.”
I glance up at that.“Upper Tier?”
She nods but shifts slightly, like she’s choosing her words carefully.“Yeah.The VIP area upstairs.”
But there’s something in her expression—just a flicker of hesitation before she shrugs it off.
I catch it, though.Evidently, all this time around Anna has my subtle expression antennae up.Super.
“You got something against this Upper Tier?”I ask before I can stop myself.
She quickly shakes her head.“Nah.Just...it’s not usually used for this.But tonight, it’s all yours, rockstar.”
That gets my attention.“Not usually used for what?”
Myles waves a dismissive hand.“Don’t worry about it.”
Okay.That’s weird.
But before I can press, she jerks her chin toward the door.“You coming?”
I hesitate, because something about this whole thing feels off.I just don’t know why.
But I need a drink before heading back into the lion’s den that is Anna’s place.
I need something to take my mind off her—that touch—before I lose it completely.
“Yeah,” I say, grabbing my jacket.“Let’s go.”
The moment I step inside, I know something is a little different.
The club’s main floor was electric—wild and loud, full of people riding the high of the show.Drinks were flowing, people were dancing.
But this?
This is something else.
The lighting is lower, casting a golden glow over plush seating.The air is thicker, the music softer—a deep, slow bass vibrating under conversation.
And the people?
Sure, they’re drinking and chatting to each other.But they’re also doing something else that makes the hairs on my neck stand on end.
They’rewatching.
And not in the‘Oh, there’s the rockstar’way, either.But I can’t seem to put my finger on it.
There’s something about the way bodies lean too close, linger too long.The way laughter rolls under hushed voices, like there’s an inside joke I’m not part of.
Don’t get me wrong,I’m used to post-show flirting.The occasional groupie trying to stick around.But this?This isn’t that.