Between Flaming Stars (Offspring

Legends Book 1) Hayley Faiman

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BETWEEN FLAMING STARS
HAYLEY FAIMAN
Hayley Faiman Books, LLC
 Contents

Also by Hayley Faiman

Stay Connected

Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue

About the Author

Also by Hayley Faiman
Between Flaming Stars
Copyright © 2021 by Hayley Faiman
All rights reserved.
Editor: My Brother’s Editor. Ellie McLove. http://www.mybrotherseditor.net
Proofreading: My Brothers Editor. Rosa Sharon. http://www.mybrotherseditor.net
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or
mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system
without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events
or locales is entirely coincidental.
Visit my website at: http://hayleyfaiman.com
Created with Vellum
Also by Hayley Faiman

Men of Baseball Series—

Pitching for Amalie
Catching Maggie
Forced Play for Libby
Sweet Spot for Victoria

Russian Bratva Series —

Owned by the Badman
Seducing the Badman
Dancing for the Badman
Living for the Badman
Tempting the Badman
Protected by the Badman
Forever my Badman
Betrothed to the Badman
Chosen by the Badman
Bought by the Badman
Collared by the Badman

Notorious Devils MC —
Rough & Rowdy
Rough & Raw
Rough & Rugged
Rough & Ruthless
Rough & Ready
Rough & Rich
Rough & Real

Cash Bar Series —

Laced with Fear
Chased with Strength
 Flamed with Courage
Blended with Pain
Twisted with Chaos
Mixed with trouble

SAVAGE BEAST MC —
UnScrew Me
UnBreak Me
UnChain Me
UnLeash Me
UnTouch Me
UnHinge Me
UnWreck Me
UnCage Me

Unfit Hero Series —

CONVICT
HERO
FRAUD
KILLER
COWBOY

Zanetti Famiglia Series —

Becoming the Boss
Becoming his Mistress
Becoming his Possession
Becoming the Street Boss
Becoming the Hitman
Becoming his Wife
Becoming her Salvation

Prophecy Sisters Series —

Bride of the Traitor
Bride of the Sea
Bride of the Frontier
Bride of the Emperor
 Astor Family Series —
Hypocritically Yours
Egotistically Yours
Matrimonially Yours
Occasionally Yours

Nasty Bastards MC —
Ruin My Life
Tame My Life
Start My Life
Dance into My Life
Shake Up My Life
Repair My Life
Sweeten My Life

Russian Torpedo—
Stolen by the Sinner
Bound to the Sinner
Caught by the Sinner
F*cked by the Sinner
Stripped by the Sinner
Rejecting the Sinner
Loved by the Sinner

Offspring Legends—
Between Flaming Stars

Esquire Black Duet Series –

DISCOVERY
APPEAL

Forbidden Love Series —

Personal Foul
Kinetic Energy

Standalone Titles
Royally Relinquished: A Modern Day Fairy Tale
 Stay Connected

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To me, a song is new every time I sing it.
Meat Loaf
 Prologue

MEMPHIS

I WATCH HER FOR A MOMENT, unable to take my eyes from her. She’s
gorgeous. Probably the prettiest woman I’ve ever met. A singer like me. A
star like me. Together we’re the perfect couple. The tabloids say so, our
friends and family agree.
We’re perfect.
Although I’m high as fuck, so maybe perfect is a little over the top?
Eliana looks over her shoulder at me. Her long blonde hair and bright-
blue eyes finding mine, then her lips curve up into a smile.
Then I decide it’s not over the top. She’s fucking perfect.
“I look amazing, don’t I?” she asks. She does.
She’s wearing a skintight dress that’s cut extremely low, showing off the
middle of her chest, all the way down to her stomach. The side is also cut in
to give everyone a view of her side boob.
It’s good side boob too.
She looks stunning.
The dress is custom made for her, the jewelry loaned out from a new
designer, and her shoes are from some designer that is new on the scene. Put
it all together and it’s something from another goddamn planet.
“You do,” I offer with a grin.
 She looks me up and down but doesn’t say anything about how I look in
my new leather jacket or custom jeans and shirt. I also had my hair dyed and
styled specifically for this event. She doesn’t say shit, but it doesn’t matter,
not really. She’s the important one. I take another shot of liquor, following it
with another pill.
Holding out my hand, I walk over to her. She slips her palm in mine and I
squeeze. “The car is downstairs waiting, right? I don’t want to walk all the
way downstairs and the car not be ready.”
“It’s there,” I murmur, assuring her.
“Your parents?” she asks through gritted teeth.
“They’re sitting with us at the dinner afterward.”
I watch as she wrinkles her nose and I press my lips together. I don’t
know why she doesn’t like my parents, they’re awesome people.
They’ve been my rock, always.
They’ll always have my back and I know that I can always depend on
them. My dad understands everything that I’ve gone through in my career
and always has a listening ear for me, and great fucking advice.
“Well, the girls are riding with us, and after dinner, I promised we’d go to
the after-party with them. So we’ll have to eat fast.”
“Eliana,” I say on a sigh.
She leans forward, baring her teeth as she stares into my eyes. Her blue
eyes go ice fucking cold and she narrows them on me. There is a moment
where we just stare at one another in silence. I suck in a breath and shake my
head.
Lifting my hand, I wrap my fingers around the back of her neck, careful
not to mess up her hair and rest my forehead against hers.
“Okay, baby. We’ll do your plan.”
She shifts backward, her eyes losing their coldness in an instant, her lips
curving up into a grin. “Thanks,” she quips. “You’re going to have so much
fun. I just know it.”
Translation, she’s getting what she wants so she won’t be a bitch. She’ll
have fun, and I’ll follow behind her, just the way she likes it.
We leave, the limousine waiting outside just like she wanted. Once we’re
inside, I take her hand in mine, holding it, but she doesn’t allow me to do that
for long. She wriggles her fingers out of my grasp, leaning forward to talk to
her girls. She’s animated, happy, and I can’t help but stare at her in awe.
She’s never like this with me, and she’s fucking pretty when she’s this way, I
hate that I don’t get to see it often.
It doesn’t take the limo long to arrive at our destination. The awards show
is in full swing when we roll up to the red carpet. I’m supposed to walk with
the rest of Between Flaming Stars, but once again, Eliana made sure we
didn’t ride together as a group. I feel bad that we hardly ever walk into these
things together anymore.
When the limousine door opens, I unfold, holding up my hand, waving,
and smiling for the cameras. Then I hold my palm out for her to take. She
does, a huge smile plastered on her face. It’s a bigger smile than I’ve ever
seen pointed at me, and I wonder what it would be like to have all of that
beauty aimed right at me. I doubt I’ll ever know.
Holding her hand, I walk down the red carpet with her. She doesn’t even
look in my direction as the reporters and paparazzi call out our names. There
are a couple reporters that I want to talk to from some smaller blogs and
podcasts, but I can’t seem to get over there without completely ditching her,
which I wouldn’t do.
When we get close to the people I want to talk to, she starts to walk past
them. Smiling, I tug her hand slightly and she looks up at me for the first time
since we sat down in the limo at our house.
“I want to talk to a couple of these bloggers and podcasters,” I say,
keeping my voice low.
She continues to smile big and bright, talking between her teeth. “No,
they aren’t anybody.”
We walk into the venue and I feel almost defeated. As soon as the first
tray of champagne passes me, I grab three glasses and down them, one right
after the other. I feel like a piece of shit.
The rest of the awards ceremony, I drink and take a few more pills that I
brought with me. I don’t remember what I won, what the band won, or what I
said in my acceptance speech. I don’t remember dinner with my family.
I remember absolutely nothing, and the next morning I wake up naked,
alone in bed, my entire body pulsing with a raging hangover.
Instead of getting up and finding food, I reach for a pill bottle that’s in my
nightstand drawer and I take a couple more. Then, I pass back out. I wake up
later and do the same, and the cycle is repeated over and over until I finally
feel nothing.
 LINDEN

B ETWEEN F LAMING S TARS .

The words are right there on the tickets in my hands and yet, I can’t
believe them. I can’t believe it’s real. Lifting my eyes, I look up to my father
who is sitting on the edge of the sofa watching me, his leg bouncing with
anticipation for my reaction.
I open my mouth, close it, then open it again, and finally, I let out a
bloodcurdling scream that only my thirteen-year-old self could. On shaky
legs, I stand to my feet before I start to jump up and down at least a dozen
times.
I can hear my dad laughing in the background and my sister groaning
next to me, while my mom just watches me with a big smile on her face. But
nobody understands my deep love for the band Between Flaming Stars or my
obsession with the lead singer, the Memphis Dixon.
“That ticket includes backstage passes for you and two friends. It also
includes the meet and greet before the show and the after-party, until it is too
wild,” my dad announces.
My screaming becomes louder, so much so that I’m afraid the windows
could break. My dad still laughs, a huge smile on his face. Eventually, I have
to take a breath, so I stop screaming and attempt to calm my racing heart,
inhaling and exhaling over and over.
“The concert is tomorrow night,” my dad announces.
I don’t break out into screaming again, this time, I break out into freak-
out mode. “I don’t have anything to wear,” I cry.
It’s my mom’s turn to laugh. She walks over to the last box in the pile of
presents and picks it up, then hands it to me.
“Open this, Len.”
I do, tearing open the paper, ripping it to shreds before I slowly open the
box. Then I gasp and suck in a breath at the sight of the awesome little black
dress and low chunky high heels. I can’t believe it’s real. It’s the outfit of my
dreams.
“Every girl needs a little black dress, and I wanted to be the one to buy
your first,” my mom says with a soft smile on her lips.
Grinning, I look at the dress again. It’s soft satin or silk fabric with two-
inch shoulder straps and a high cut neckline. It’s an A-line skirt and since I’m
tall, even though it looks long, it won’t even go to my knees.
 It’s perfect in every single way.
This present is perfect in every single way.
My life is perfect and maybe, just maybe, Memphis Dixon will see me
and fall in love with me at first sight. I mean, he’s twenty-three and I’m
thirteen, but a girl can dream, right?

W ALKING through the special back entrance, I put my VIP backstage pass
around my neck, holding hands with my two best friends as we walk right
into the building. My parents guide us toward the backstage area, the room
where the meet and greet is supposed to happen.
I’m wearing my black dress, my heels, my hair and makeup are on point
and I feel like I’m walking on a cloud. There is a short line to get into the
room, but I don’t mind. I’d stand in line for a week if it meant I got to meet
Memphis in the flesh.
One by one, we’re shown inside. My mouth goes dry at the sight of the
band standing against the wall, greeting everyone and taking pictures.
Looking over to my mom and dad, I make sure that one of them has their
phone in hand. They both do. Pressing my lips together, it’s my turn.
There he is.
OMG.
He’s gorgeous.
I notice a few more tattoos than the last paparazzi picture I’d seen him in,
but they only make him look sexier. We walk up to the band and all the
members shake our hands and talk to us, but I can’t focus on any of them.
Only Memphis Dixon matters to me.
Once it’s time to go over to Memphis, I try not to fall over. My belly
flutters and I give him a big smile. Before he even says a word to me, he
wraps his arms around me in a big hug and I close my eyes, smelling him. He
smells so damn good. Better than anything else I’ve ever smelled in my entire
life.
I’m going to remember this moment until the day that I die. It will go
down in history as the best moment of my entire life.
“Hey, so glad you could come,” he whispers against my ear.
I almost die right there on the spot. I could and I would have lived my life
to the fullest. This is the peak, I already know it.
 Chapter One

TEN YEARS LATER

MEMPHIS

LOOKING at my reflection in the mirror, I let out a groan at the sight in front
of me. There’s no denying that I look better than I did six months ago, but I
still look strung the fuck out. I’m still too thin for my tall frame, but my dad
is kind of built the same way, so maybe it’s not so much drugs and booze, but
genetics.
Lifting my hand, I run my palm down my face and let out a sigh.
“You ready?” Zane asks.
Turning my head, I look back at him and give him a bullshit fake smile.
He shakes his head, then wraps his fingers around my shoulder, giving me a
shake. “Take it slow, man. If this tour is too much, we cancel. No harm, no
foul.”
“Can’t do that, won’t do that to the fans.”
“You’re a workaholic,” he says on a chuckle before giving me a grin.
He’s the same fucking way.
All of the bandmates are. It’s why we work so well together, and why
they’ve stuck around with all of my crazy fucking antics the past decade. I’ve
fucked them over plenty of times over the years. More than I would ever like
to admit. They would be justified to call the entire partnership quits.
“Yeah,” I say with a grin. “So are you.”
Felix chucks a drumstick toward me, and I dip my body to the side. It
misses me by inches and slams against the wall. I turn to him and, without
even thinking, I run toward him, jumping, and landing on his body.
He lets out a wail as he falls backward. His hands reach up and he tries to
push me off, but it’s a failed attempt, and we end up rolling around on the
floor wrestling, like a couple of fucking kids. We throw fake punches, bob
and weave as we fuck around, and I laugh.
For the first time in years, I laugh. Truly laugh.
Then there’s a knock on the door and we stop. Turning my head to the
side, I look over as the door opens. Our manager, William, stands there in the
doorway and watches us, a frown on his face.
“The meet and greet is ready,” he grumbles.
Pushing off of Felix, I stand and brush my clothes off. William’s gaze
finds mine, and he holds it. “Don’t fuck this up, Memphis. This is your
comeback tour. I have plans.”
“Was I ever away?” I ask.
I’ve been working since I was a teenager. Since my dad had a party and
we played for all of his friends in the industry. We were discovered, though
it’s not too much of a long shot, considering my dad is a rock star legend in
his own right.
William arches a brow and shakes his head once. “You’ve been fucked
up,” he barks.
He’s not wrong. I’ve done more drugs than I care to admit. Eliana fucked
me up big time. But at the same time, I cannot blame her for my drug use. It’s
easy to do, she was a fucking bitch, and I blamed her for my drug use for a
long time. I blamed the media, too. I blamed the damn world, but what I
didn’t do was take ownership of myself—until recently.
This last stint in rehab made me realize that I need to take responsibility
for my part in my own life. Yes, the media, Eliana, and everything else in my
life didn’t help, but at the end of the day, it’s on me, just me, and I need to
take ownership of it. At least that’s what I’ve learned through rehab.
Smoothing out my clothes, the other guys do the same as we get
straightened out for the meet and greet. Reaching for a bottle of water, I take
a huge gulp, then smile as we make our way toward the fans. I feel out of
practice and very unsure of myself since I haven’t done one of these sober…
ever.
Walking into the room, I look around at everyone and smile. There are
people of varying sex and ages chatting and socializing. It seems like a small
thing, but this is fucking huge for me right now. This is the first time I’ve
ever been here, sober, the first time I’m seeing it through this lens.
This is where I’m meant to be.
Looking around the room, my eyes land on the most beautiful woman I
have ever seen in my life. My breath catches in my throat, my blood freezes
inside of my body, my muscles seize, and I just stare at her.
I’ve stayed away from women in general since getting out of rehab,
wanting to do what is suggested and focus on myself. On my addiction. On
my own healing. But seeing her, I know that I won’t be able to stay away.
She’s long and lean, she has dark hair that skims her waist. When she
turns to look at me, bright-blue eyes meet mine and full lips… so full. I can’t
help but imagine looking down at those lips as they’re wrapped around my
cock.
Fuck. Me.

LINDEN

T EN YEARS HAVEN ’ T MADE me any less of a fangirl. I still love Between

Flaming Stars and, of course, the sexy as all get-out Memphis Dixon. I’m
holding a bottle of water in my hand as I try to listen to Layla, who is
standing across from me. She’s telling me all about this runway show that she
has coming up. Then she licks her lips and starts to talk about new items she
hopes I showcase.
I couldn’t care less what she has to say right now. I can’t stop looking to
the side to see if he’s walked into the room yet. As if I wouldn’t feel him
enter a room or something. I doubt his energy is any less today than it was ten
years ago.
God, I want to see him in the flesh. I’ve been to a few shows over the
years, but this is the first time I’m here in a professional capacity. It’s really
hard not to be a complete fangirl right now, but I’m trying to be extra
professional.
Trying really hard, but they’re wearing my clothes.
 The entire band.
Even Memphis himself.
If I thought at thirteen, I could die and be happy when Memphis Dixon
hugged me, then took a picture with me, I didn’t realize what was coming my
way. I didn’t realize that I would one day design clothes, fashion, and that he
and his entire band would wear said fashion.
They’re wearing my clothes. Mine.
“So, the theme is red for this show. Do you have enough red in your
collection to make it happen?” Layla asks me.
Licking my bottom lip, sinking my teeth down in an effort to remind
myself to focus, I force my attention back to Layla. The only thing that I
really want to do is stare at the door and watch him walk into the room.
Though, I don’t know why I thought I needed to watch the door to know
when he was here, because the room goes quiet and I can feel his presence.
Then as if he wills me to look in his direction, my head turns without my
brain telling it to. It just happens and when it does, my breath catches in my
throat.
He’s looking at me.
He’s not just looking in my direction but he is looking right at me.
Those blue eyes focus on mine and he pulls his bottom lip into his mouth,
then his teeth run along the flesh there and my entire body breaks out into a
sweat. He looks better than he did at the last concert I went to and watched
him perform. It was about five years ago and while he looked good, right
now he looks about a million times better. He’s bigger, stronger, sexier, and
his eyes are clear. He’s sober.
Layla laughs softly, and my upper body jerks before I turn back to her. I
know that my cheeks turn red as my face heats at her obvious knowledge of
my ogling. Thankfully, she has a kind heart and doesn’t mention it aloud.
“I do have a red collection,” I say after clearing my throat. “I mean not a
full and complete collection, but I can pull a few pieces and then create a few
more before the show.”
“Excellent. I think it’s going to be stunning. Are you doing unisex
pieces?” she asks.
I do a bit of everything, not wanting to pigeonhole my brand into one
singular demographic. I’m all about comfort and style, nothing too flashy, but
quality seamlessly throughout the styling. Not just for women, but for both
men and women.
 Simplistic and stylish is my theme, and that’s for all people. But to
counter that, I also do formalwear. I try to keep the same energy throughout
everything that I do. Creating stylish, high fashion that's comfortable is my
passion, even in evening wear.
“I think I’m going to do some unisex, some clearly feminine, masculine,
and then end the show with a bit of formalwear for all.”
“I love this. Absolutely love it. I know it’s all going to be an absolute
masterpiece,” she squeals.
Smiling, I lift my bottle of water to my lips and take a drink. Then I feel a
presence beside me and slowly, I turn my head. Bringing my bottle down, I
almost choke on the water in my mouth at the sight of Memphis standing
right next to me.
Right.
Next.
To.
Me.
“Memphis, do you like your clothes for this show?” Layla asks, and my
eyes widen as I turn to her, looking at her in horror. She only grins, giving me
a wink that is not subtle at all whatsoever.
“I do. They’re comfortable as fuck,” he announces, but he doesn’t look at
her, he continues to stare at me. Almost unnervingly so. I can’t look away, I
can’t even breathe. He’s totally arrested all of me.
My entire body swoons. Seriously, I almost melt into a pile of goo right
here on the floor in front of him.
“Meet your designer, Linden June,” Layla offers, then she takes a step
backward, her lips turned up in a crazy as fuck smile.
I inhale a deep breath and force a smile that I know probably is too big
and looks a little crazy, but I can’t help myself. I am trying really hard not to
scream in his face.
I’m twenty-three years old. I have worked with dozens of famous people,
including models, photographers, celebrities, and other rock stars, I should
not be fangirling, but here I am. Because this isn’t just anyone… this is
Memphis Dixon.
“Hey,” he offers with a grin.
I extend my hand, trying with everything that I am not to tremble and I’m
sure that I fail miserably. But it doesn’t matter, because Memphis doesn’t
accept my hand. Instead, he wraps me in a hug and my knees are what’s
trembling instead of my hand.
 Chapter Two

MEMPHIS

FUCK ME, but she’s the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. She gives me a smile
as I break the hug and I swear to fuck, I feel it in my cock. I start to talk to
her, ask her about her fashion and her eyes light up as she starts to tell me all
about her brand and her style. I love it. I can’t help but smile back at her.
“You’ll be here for the whole show?” I ask.
I want to talk to her. I want to get to know her. I want to fucking know
everything about her, from the way she feels beneath my fingertips to the
way her entire body tastes. I’ve never wanted anything as bad as I want this
with her, right fucking now.
“I will,” she breathes. “I’m a fan.”
My lips curve up into a grin and I reach out, taking her hand in mine, I
squeeze her fingers. “Really glad to hear that, Linden.”
My manager calls out my name and I turn my head to look back at him.
He jerks his chin and I know that it’s time for me to do the meet and greet
thing. Turning back to Linden, I squeeze her fingers again, then take a step
back.
“Seriously, I want to see you after the show.”
“Okay,” she exhales.
Walking away from her, I feel it in my bones that she is something
special. She is someone, and I’m going to need to get to know her better. She
is meant to be in my life in some way. I don’t know how yet, but she will be
in my life.
I need it.
I fucking need it.
Need her.
The rest of the meet and greet is completely and totally a blur and not
because I’m high or drunk, but because of this woman. I spent the entire time,
half talking to people and half staring at Linden.
She’s amazingly talented, her clothes are the best I’ve ever worn for a
show. They’re me down to the socks. I don’t know how she did it, but
everything that we’re wearing is uniquely us. Even Felix looks comfortable
and at home in his clothes, which usually he would be trying to peel off at
any given second, since he’s half fucking nudist, I swear.
“You ready for this show?” someone asks.
Looking over, I notice that the woman is wearing a press badge and I turn
up the charm and give her a warm smile.
“I’m more than ready. I’m back and I want the world to see me shine.”
She returns my smile and scribbles down on her pad of paper. Then she
asks me a few more questions, but I can tell that the big one is coming. And it
does. Right before the manager calls out for us to get ready to go on stage,
the question comes out.
“What is going on between you and Eliana? Are you together, split up?
What’s the status?”
I could avoid answering and just leave. I should. I’m not sure what Eliana
and I are, but I know what we aren’t and that’s together. I haven’t seen her
since I went to rehab. And more importantly, I don’t want to see her either.
Rehab wasn’t something that I voluntarily went to on my own. I was
volun-told to go or face jail time for all of the stupid, reckless shit I was
doing.
The last thing I wanted to do was go to jail, so I opted for a nice, cozy
rehab. A little break for myself. Partying, drinking, driving drunk and high,
anything and everything to cause fucking trouble, I was doing.
I’m glad I went though.
In the end, it’s what saved me.
I was screaming inside, begging to be saved, for someone to finally give a
fuck about me. My bandmates tried but they have their own shit to deal with.
Not that my own parents didn’t try, they did, but they have their own drama
and besides, I’m a fucking grown-ass man.
“Eliana was an important part of my life for a long time. She’ll always be
important to me,” I say.
It’s the best nonanswer that I have for her. Felix runs up beside me,
wrapping his arm around my neck and drags me next to him, in a way, also
dragging me away from her.
“Thanks, she was asking me about E.” I chuckle, feeling stupid about the
whole thing.
Zane jogs up to my other side. “Man, fuck that bitch,” he spits.
Zane has never been a fan of Eliana. I don’t blame him. She can be a
bitch, she can be high strung, she can also be extremely selfish and
narcissistic. She can be toxic to me, but then again, I’m not sure that I can’t
be toxic to her, too. Maybe we were toxic to each other?
I feel a knee slam into my ass crack and I turn around to Benji laughing.
“Did you just fucking corndog me?” I ask.
He shrugs a shoulder. “I don’t know. I haven’t been present today,
wanted to make sure you knew I cared,” he says.
“What’s up?” I ask.
He clears his throat. “The wife has bad morning sickness. She says it’s all
day long. I feel bad.”
“Shit, that sucks,” I say.
I don’t know if it sucks or what, seeing as I’ve never been around a
pregnant woman like that, but I imagine being sick all the time would suck
giant fucking balls. If it feels anything like detox, I understand that shit
wholly and completely.
The four of us walk down the empty hallway toward the side-stage area
so that we can go on after the opening band finishes.
“We’re proud as fuck of you, Mem,” Zane says, leaning to the side and
bumping his shoulder against mine.
Nodding my head, I suck in a breath and look between my bandmates.
“I’m committed to this,” I say.
They grin and then the opening band’s lights go down. It’s almost time.
We all stay quiet, closing our eyes as we breathe. A tradition that we’ve
always done. Breathe. That’s all we need to do to get ready to rock.
A moment of silence and calm before the absolute chaos.
The only thing that I see when I close my eyes is Linden.
 Fuck. I’m already lost to her.

LINDEN

HE SAID MY NAME .
It’s the only thing that I can think about as the meet and greet continues,
then the band and all of the concertgoers filter out of the room and head to
the show. I can’t move though. I mean, Layla talked to me a few times, but
I’m seriously standing against the wall, unable to do anything but breathe.
Because he said my name.
Oh.
My.
God.
He said my name and I think I could have come from it.
I really think that I could have. Sucking in a deep breath, I try to muster
up the energy to make my way to the show, but my legs are still shaky, so
damn shaky.
Closing my eyes, I inhale a deep breath, then let it out, calming myself as
much as I can.
I’m not an outgoing person by nature. I’m shy and tend to stay out of the
limelight. The exact opposite of my mother, I’m more like my father. Which
is why I went into fashion design instead of acting or singing, not that I could
really sing anyway. But I don’t want to be in the middle of anything.
I don’t want the spotlight on me.
I just want to design clothes and live my life. In my dreams, my fantasies,
that life includes Memphis Dixon… naked.
Layla calls out my name and I look up and over to the doorway. She’s
standing there, a smile on her face, her eyes wide.
“Ready? I got us a spot next to the stage so you can ogle and swoon all at
once.”
I shake my head slowly before I push off of the wall and head toward her.
I try not to think about the fact that I should be doing anything but ogling
Memphis.
It’s a silly teenage dream that I should not even allow myself to entertain
anymore, but the way he looked at me, the way that he touched me. The fact
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