The Reckless Collision

Ray.

A year and a half ago.

~~~

Adrenaline still buzzed through my veins as I climbed off the stage, the crowd's cheers ringing in my ears like an echo I didn't want to let go of. Normally, I'd jump in to help with the equipment—couldn't stand just moping around—but Andrew had made it clear that as the band's frontman, I wasn't supposed to be visible after the show. Apparently, that was one of those unspoken rules I still had to get used to.

This wasn't some local gig. The massive crowd, the big-name artists we were sharing the stage with—it was all new to me. So, for once, I followed Andrew's lead and headed straight for the dressing rooms after the final notes of Purple Rain echoed into the night.

Backstage was chaotic, a whirl of people moving in every direction, their chatter blending with the faint bassline still thudding through the venue. I offered polite nods and quick smiles as I passed crew members and organizers, but my mind was already elsewhere. When I reached the dressing room, I hesitated before pushing the door open. The space felt oddly bright, the fluorescent lights glaring down as if someone had left them on by mistake.

Then I heard it—a soft tapping sound, rhythmic and deliberate. My gaze shifted toward the green glass partition that sectioned off part of the room, and there she was.

Courtney sat on the black leather couch, her long legs crossed elegantly, her blonde hair falling like a curtain over her face as she scrolled through her phone. The overhead lights cast a golden glow over her, making her shimmer like some untouchable idol.

"Hey," I said, my voice rasping from the performance. I stepped closer, motioning vaguely toward the door. "How'd you get here faster than me?"

Courtney didn't look up at first, her fingers still moving over the screen. When she finally did, a bright smile curved her lips, and she uncrossed her legs with a languid grace that made my chest tighten. "I didn't stay for the whole show," she said casually, her attention already drifting back to her phone.

Her words hit me harder than I expected. I'd been scanning the VIP balcony for her all night, imagining her smiling, swaying to the music in that way that always drove me crazy. I thought she'd stayed to the end, soaking it all in, but instead, she'd left early.

Before I could fully process the disappointment, she exclaimed, "You gained seven hundred followers in the last hour!"

"What?" I asked, furrowing my brows in confusion.

"On Instagram," she said, rolling her eyes slightly as if it were obvious.

I wasn't asking about the followers. My mind was stuck on the fact that she'd left. I'd talked about this show for weeks, and told her how much it meant to me and the band. This was our biggest crowd yet, a milestone in our career. And she couldn't even stay till the end?

"That's great," I said, my tone flat despite my best efforts.

"Yes, baby," she replied, her smile brightening as she tossed her phone onto the glass coffee table with a soft clink. "You're going to be famous in no time."

She stood and stretched out her arms toward me, her lavender perfume enveloping me as her body pressed against mine. Her fingers, cold against the nape of my neck, sent a shiver down my spine. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her closer, but just as I leaned in for a kiss, she drew back.

"You're so sweaty, baby," she teased, wrinkling her nose. "Go clean up. We need to be ready in less than an hour."

"Ready for what?" I asked, scratching the back of my neck as the absence of her touch left a strange void.