Effortless (Thoughtless, #2)(3)

His voice cut through the music, perfectly on time. No matter what he was feeling off the stage, in this, Kellan was a professional. The countless practices and small shows around the area had paid off well; his voice was spectacular. A high-pitched, feminine squeal surged throughout the crowd as his microphone drifted the words over the open area. He was singing an older song, a D-Bag classic, and several people around me were singing along. Since I’d watched Kellan write songs before, it was a little awe-inspiring to witness his lyrics be repeated back to him, especially in a crowd this size.

He beamed as he strummed and sang. A distractingly sexy half-smile was on his lips. It never failed to amaze me that he could play his guitar and sing at the same time. Me? I could barely do just one of those things.

Jenny waved her hands in the air and hooted and hollered for her man and I did the same, happy that I could come out and support him today, support them all today. Well, maybe not Griffin.

8



The song ended with a thunderous reaction from the crowd, even the guys directly in front of me. I was ecstatic for Kellan and the boys. They deserved the success. Kellan put his guitar away for the next song, popping the microphone off its stand. The stage here was wider than Pete’s and with more room to walk around, Kellan also had more room to flirt.

Moving into the next song, his eyes slipped over the crowd in ways that I was only used to them slipping over me.

It bothered me a little, but I let it go. He was just excited to be here, excited to play. He’d slipped back into the aggressively sexy guy that I’d first seen on stage. The sexed-up behavior had seemed over-the-top to me on that very first glance that I’d had of him, but the audience here was eating it up. Hands were stretching out to him from everywhere, even from rows behind me. I wasn’t quite sure what those women expected him to do. Stage dive? I furrowed my brow, hoping he didn’t do that.

He could get hurt…or fondled to death.

As he propped a foot on a speaker and leaned out to grab a fan, I idly wondered why that one. Did he like her hair? Was she the most excited one in that section? Did she have the biggest…voice? Shaking my head, I pushed it out of my mind. He had so many things to concentrate on up there, he probably wasn’t thinking at all. Just reacting to a fan asking for more of him. And they could certainly touch him. I wasn’t such a jealous harpy that I couldn’t handle a few caresses. Within reason, of course.

And Kellan was good with keeping most of his flirtations on the stage.

He would never look or act the way he was while he was singing in our day to day life. You wouldn’t even know he was practically a rock star in-between his shows. Really, he seemed a little lazy to the untrained eye. But I knew his mind was always busy, even if he was just slinging back cold ones at the bar.

As the heat only increased throughout their set, I started to wonder if Kellan might strip down. It wasn’t a preposterous idea; he’d done it before while singing. A couple of times, from what I’d heard. He was wiping himself off with the lower half of his shirt whenever he got the chance, his shirt rising to the edge of his upper abs, each line still gloriously defined. With the symphony of screams whenever he did that, I was sure the crowd would approve if he chose to remove it. The bulk of the crowd, anyway.

9



I wasn’t sure how I felt about women ogling my boyfriend in that way.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about his tattoo being exposed either. That sort of bothered me more. But after a quick wipe, he always let his plain, white t-shirt fall back into place. I preferred to believe that he liked keeping his tattoo a secret too, like it was something just between us. And it should be. Even though it was on his body, it was incredibly personal for each of us. It had kept him connected to me while we’d been apart. It had helped seal us when we’d gotten back together.

Once their allotted time had diminished, the band members each gave small bows and Kellan thanked the crowd for listening. He was happier than I’d ever seen him as he backed away from the stand. His eyes flicked down to mine in the crowd. No, I was wrong before. The look he was giving me now was the happiest look I’d ever seen on him.

The crowd around us started shifting, some staying to watch the next show, some leaving to check out another venue. Bumbershoot had dozens of artists playing at any given time, from the big names, to the locals, like the D-Bags. Having been here just last year with them, when Kellan and I had just been friends, well, as much of friends as we had ever been, it was a little surreal to see their name on the lineup posters.

I’d snagged about three dozen of those posters as mementoes.

Giggling, Jenny locked her arm with mine and pulled us towards the side of the stage. The guys were alternating between acknowledging the fans and unplugging their stuff. Kellan grabbed his prized guitar, and with a smile and a nod at me, ducked behind the stage. Jenny and I approached a metal railing fencing off the backstage area from the rest of the populace. And just in case the fence wasn’t enough of a warning, a couple of yellow-shirted security guards were shooing people away.

Waiting in the spot where I knew Kellan would eventually appear, I, for a moment, wished I was forward enough to sneak behind the fence. I wanted to be with him, to give him the huge congratulatory hugs that were bursting my prideful stomach apart. But it was off-limits to normal folk, like me, and I didn’t want to cause a scene by getting busted by the burly guys who put Pete’s bouncer to shame.