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“Why not?”

Becka sighed. “While I love your confidence in me, it just… it just doesn’t work like that, babes. Who the hell am I? I’m no one – and don’t make that noise, I know you’re about to go all indignant and insist I’m awesome, blah, blah. And yeah. I am awesome, and for the record I was awesome at that job. But it wasn’t specialist. Not like PR. Especially not on my own. Maybe I’ll find a job in PR, or something. But can we not map out my life right now? I just wanna…” She sighed again. “I just wanna hang out with my best friend, eat some ice cream. Maybe get drunk later. Can we do that?”

I didn’t even need to think about it.

I watched the concert the next day through bleary eyes. Even though I’d slept in later than I should have, my hangover persisted, and I couldn’t tell if the pounding in my head was because of the wine or the bass thumping through the walls.

I spent the entire show backstage. This worked especially well for me today. The idea of nursing this hangover surrounded by thousands of other bodies… no.

I spent the show observing the ebb and flow of the crew in the midst of it all. Even when the members were on stage, no one really relaxed. So much happened in the span of two to three hours that it felt like a full day.

When the members ran into the green room during the midpoint to change their outfits, yanking off shirts and jackets, I spun around, cheeks flaming, and got out of the way. I busied myself at the hospitality table, staring at the array of bottled water and snacks. The noise and chaos behind me filtered away as the group and their entourage moved into the dressing room, and I took a moment to shake my head to clear the image of GVibes running past, stripping en route.

My fingers curled around a bottle of water just as an arm stretched past mine, reaching for another, bracelets clinking softly as they brushed against my skin.

I inhaled sharply as I felt a hard chest press against my back, and my eyes slid partially closed as I registered the sensation. I fought to regain control of my body, resisting the urge to lean back. All my senses were immediately overwhelmed in ways that were both breathtakingly familiar and dangerously new. I inhaled deeply, smelling his clean laundry scent. The heat of him this close burned.

I dared not turn around.

“Enjoying the show, Kaiya?” he murmured so close to my ear that his breath ghosted across my neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

My eyes flared wide and my lips parted. The sound of my name in his mouth made me want to hear it again. He’d so rarely used it when we’d been together, preferring to call me jagiya, but somehow hearing it like this, in that tone… it was my name, but it sounded like a vow.

I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I nodded instead, making a ‘mm-hmm’ noise as I fiddled with the cap of my bottle.

He left the water on the table, and I exhaled shakily as his arm pulled back. But then I felt his hands on my hips, firm fingers pressing against me as he turned me around. He was so close that the towel around his neck brushed against me. I couldn’t seem to help the way my eyes darted over him, landing briefly here and there, hungry for detail. He wore a white tank top, but he was so wet that it had gone nearly translucent.

I swallowed hard.

His skin glistened with sweat. My eyes trailed up slowly, following the line of his throat to his parted lips. They curved slightly under my gaze until my eyes collided with his.

I leaned back, staring at him, but his hands remained on my hips.

“LA, Kaiya,” he said in a low voice. “Do you remember?”

As if I was capable of forgetting.

His eyes dropped briefly to my mouth before he leaned down, and my entire body went still, all except my thumping pulse. His lips brushed my cheek. “Will you come with me on the Ferris wheel?”

My breath stuttered, and he grinned.

He pulled away before I could form any kind of response, leaving me standing there by the table, swaying slightly without his firm grip to hold me.

It was only then as I watched him walk away that I noticed the small room was empty – thank God – but I wasn’t sure it would have made a difference had it been full of people as I clearly wasn’t capable of not reacting to him.

I spun back around, squeezing my eyes shut as I tried to calm my racing heart.

Damn sexy magic.

Chapter 19

I’d been in studios before. I’d walked the hallowed grounds of the BBC. This should not have been a big deal, but as I stood in the wings of Studio C looking out at the empty set of the Harlow Harris Show I couldn’t help the thrill that shot through me. I watched the studio audience filter in, all so clearly Vibers. The excitement was palpable. They chattered, and grinned and most had some kind of identifying item that denoted them as part of the fandom, from Viber lightsticks, clothes emblazoned with the logo, to photocards dangling from bags or belts.

Turning away, I headed into the corridor behind the stage. Showrunners were moving with purpose, paying me no attention, so I settled in a chair close to the studio’s side entrance. Close enough that I could hear the audience murmuring, but not so close as to be in the way.

I began jotting down notes and observations. Just abstract thoughts around the seismic shift from GVibes’ early days on variety shows, and smaller TV appearances, to the jump to international talk shows. I leaned over my notepad, legs crossed beneath me, paying not the slightest bit of attention to my surroundings.

“Kaiya Thompson?”