“I think he’ll show.”

McAvoy nodded. “He’s never ditched us before.”

A flicker of worry passed across Miller’s face. Did he know that it’s a very real possibility that record labels are interested in Grant, but not necessarily ContraBand? Is he worried that the more time Grant spent with other bands, the more likely he might sell out? It was my worry…my fear. I hated seeing it reflected back to me.

“No, he wouldn’t,” Miller finally agreed.

Just as I was turning to leave, I saw Vin stalking across the room.

“Looks like you’re only one short,” I said.

I didn’t want to be here to see this confrontation. Hopefully, Vin had taken McAvoy’s advice, calmed down, and left that shit behind him. By the fury on his Italian face though, I was starting to think he didn’t do calm.

“So, I’m f**king here,” Vin said.

“And I’m leaving,” I said.

“Hey, where’s Grant?”

“Occupied.”

Vin raised his eyebrows at me. “Well, if he is, you want to be?”

McAvoy smacked him on the chest. “Not right now, bro.”

“What? If Grant is f**king some other girl, then I can f**k his girl. That’s how it works, right?”

Vin and Miller glared at each other.

“Fucking drop it, Vin,” Miller snapped.

I heard McAvoy say something else, but I was already walking away. The band went on in thirty minutes, and I didn’t want to be backstage when Grant surfaced. I was having a hard enough time keeping my emotions under control around his friends. I wasn’t sure what I would do when I came face-to-face with Grant again.

Cheyenne, Shelby, and Gabi had staked out a spot near the front of the stage. Drinks in hand, they were discussing the last band who had performed. Apparently, the lead singer had been dressed in drag, and the band had played “Piano Man” to close their set. They said that it had been a sight to behold.

“What was backstage like?” Shelby asked me.

The crew was onstage setting up ContraBand’s equipment.

I wrinkled my nose. “Full of sluts and booze.”

Cheyenne laughed. “Isn’t that everywhere?”

“Did you get to meet other bands?” Gabi asked.

“Yeah,” I said, grinding my teeth together.

“Which ones?”

I sighed. “The Drift.”

The girls all just stared at me.

“Oh. Ha-ha. That’s cute,” Cheyenne said, rolling her green eyes.

They didn’t believe me. Good. I didn’t want to talk about it.

“I think she’s being serious, Chey,” Shelby said.

“Who did you meet?” Gabi asked, wide-eyed.

I didn’t miss a beat. “Donovan Jenkins.”

“Holy shit!” Cheyenne whispered. “He’s gorgeous.”

“Yep,” I said stiffly. “He tried to get me to become his groupie. I turned him down.” I sent her a scathing smile.

“You know, when you do that, I really can’t tell if you’re serious or being a sarcastic bitch like normal.”

I laughed and gave Cheyenne a hug. She looked positively stunned by the display of affection.

“I’m glad you’re my friend, Cheyenne, or else I’d probably hate you.”

“I feel like that all the time.”

The lights flickered, announcing the start of the next band, and my heart raced in anticipation. We were jostled forward as the crowd pressed in on the stage. I was moved closer and closer, and all I could think about was my argument with Grant. I was so angry with him, but at the same time, I just wanted it to be right.

Things felt…complete when we were together. Despite our differences, we clicked. But then, I remembered the way he had drunkenly looked at me, like I was an embarrassment to him, and it solidified my anger. I’d rather make him beg than give in to that girlie feeling of helplessness over a man.

The band walked onstage. First, McAvoy took a seat at his drum set, then Miller walked to the far side of the stage, then Vin followed his typical charisma returning with the start of the show…then Grant. The crowd whooped as he strode confidently onstage. Only I could notice the swagger in his walk was from liquor.

Grant gripped the microphone in his hand, and I couldn’t help it. My heart skipped a beat. Damn him for making me feel this way!

“What’s up Poconos music festival?” he called into the microphone. “We’re ContraBand. Here tonight from Princeton, New Jersey. Any people from Jersey in the house?”

A huge crowd cheered, my friends among them.

“We’re opening tonight with a song written for Jersey about getting the f**k out of there. Every now and then, you just want to leave your home and be somewhere else. This song is ‘Hemorrhage.’”

Our eyes locked right before he started in on the first verse, and then he was just a presence taking over the ski lodge. I was compelled to him as much as I was repulsed by his shit behavior.

“We have a few more songs for you tonight, but this one…this one is new.”

I narrowed my eyes at the stutter in his voice. Grant didn’t stutter. His gaze shifted to mine, and then his eyes didn’t move.

He was staring right at me. “We call this one ‘Life Raft.’”

Vin started up on the melody, and then McAvoy chimed in with a slower down beat. Miller brought in the bass, and then Grant started strumming his guitar. My mouth dropped open slightly. He seemed to nod at me as if telling me that I did know this one. It was what he had been playing earlier today in his suite.

I let the sounds of the strings wash over me just as Grant’s voice came in through the speakers. I didn’t want this. He wasn’t supposed to charm me onstage while I was angry at him. I deserved an apology.

But then, I heard the chorus.

Every time I see you. You make me feel better.

Every single day. You push away the pain.

You push away the memories.

You’re my life raft. In an endless ocean.

You saved me from drowning.

You saved me from myself.

You’re my life raft. In an endless ocean.

I’d heard those words. He’d said them to me last night…right before we’d had sex. This song was for me. It was about us.

I fought back tears and remembered what we had said earlier.