The Reckless Collision

Chapter Twenty-Six

"What kind of food?" I asked suspiciously, already dreading his answer.

"Pizza," he said with an exaggerated eye roll.

I groaned. "Can I just go to the café next door instead? I want something more... French."

"Sure," he said, tilting his head. "Want me to come with you?"

"I'm fine on my own," I assured him, grabbing my backpack from a nearby chair. "Go sing. I'll be back before you know it."

Outside, the street had grown even busier. A small crowd—about twenty people—hovered near the building's wall, their excitement palpable. It took me a moment to realize they were fans, waiting eagerly for Purple Rain. I kept my head down as I walked past, but I caught a few curious glances thrown my way.

At the café, I ordered a coffee and a baguette sandwich, savoring the simple but delicious meal as I sat outside. The quiet hum of Parisian life buzzed around me while I scrolled through my phone. A message popped up from Scott.

Scott: Hey, where are you now? How's the trip going?

Me: In Paris. Everything's great so far. How about you?

The loud giggling of a group of girls snapped me out of my thoughts about Scott. They strutted down the sidewalk, passing close by me as I sat at the cafe. I popped the last bite of my sandwich into my mouth and decided to try getting some photos, just like Marcy suggested. It turned out to be a complete disaster.

I took a few selfies with the café's sign in the background, but something about them felt... off. My messy half-up, half-down bun didn't do me any favors, and my bare face only highlighted my puffy eyes and an obnoxious red spot smack in the middle of my forehead. Ugh. Still, I picked the least horrible one and sent it to Alyssa and Molly. Molly's response came immediately.

Molly: Don't you dare share this picture anywhere! What is on your forehead? Just put some makeup on already. You seriously look awful.

Me: Thanks, friend.

I smiled seeing her text. After I finished texting, I grabbed my things and strolled back toward the venue. For a split second, my stomach dropped when I couldn't find my permission pass, but a quick dig into my bag's side pocket saved the day. I slipped it around my neck and headed toward the security guard.

Walking past the small crowd outside earned me a few annoyed murmurs and a curse or two, but I shrugged them off. Inside, the atmosphere was quieter, almost calm. Gabe and Adam stood by the merch table, murmuring to each other. My footsteps echoed softly as I headed for the dressing room, where all the action was happening.

The room was bigger than I expected. Against the right wall sat a worn leather couch with a coffee table in front of it. A long row of mirrors lined the left wall, each with a chair in front, while the back led to showers and bathrooms. The dim lighting and dark tones of gray, black, and brown gave the space a moody, edgy vibe.

I scanned the room, searching for Ray. I spotted him in front of a mirror, fixing his hair. He wasn't fully dressed yet—his chest was bare, his feet too, but he'd already pulled on black pants adorned with zippers and chains. He looked effortlessly hot, as always.

Smiling, I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, resting the side of my face against his back. I felt his chest rise and fall quickly beneath my hands. Lifting my head, I met his dark eyes in the mirror.

"I'm going to get ready," I murmured, feeling him nod in silent agreement.

I grabbed my bag and headed to the restroom, where I changed into black leather shorts and a burgundy tank top with slashed edges at the hem. After adding some jewelry and platform shoes, I made my way back to the dressing room.