Meet Me Backstage

8. You Really Got Me

SKYE

This is a surreal experience.

I'm eating fast food with Jackson Ford, on a white marble table with velvet seats in a freaking mansion on wheels. After shooting his concert as his official tour photographer.

I can't believe anything about this is real.

"So how was your first day as a concert photographer?" he asks, grabbing a few fries out of the tray.

Crazy. Amazing. Wild.

"Incredible," I say. "I think I got some really great shots. I can't wait to edit them."

"That's great. I can't wait to see them." He sweeps his hair back with his hand.

It's so bizarre seeing him like this after watching him perform. On stage, he's all glammed up in a suit with gel in his hair, moving effortlessly and oozing charisma. Now, he's dressed down in a white t-shirt and joggers, his hair still moist from his post-show shower. He's got that same charm and unmistakable smile, but he's more reachable—more human.

"I forgot to mention," he says, taking another sip of his drink. "I loved the uh, boudoir photos you took of me. They were some of the best I've done."

Ohmygodsomebodykillmenow.

"Uh... th- thank you." I can feel my cheeks heating up. "You were an excellent model."

"You think so?"

He gives me a quick smile and looks up at me through his lashes.

"Yeah, I uh... you were great. I'm sure your friend will be very happy to receive them."

"My friend?" His brow furrows and he tilts his head.

"Oh, uh... didn't you say you had someone you were keeping in mind when I took the photos? Did I misunderstand...?"

Filter, Skye. FILTER. You're bringing up his personal business. Why am I so great at making a conversation awkward?

"Oh yeah," he says with a smirk. "My friend, of course. Yeah um... I'll have to get back to you about that."

"Sorry if that was inappropriate. I didn't mean to pry. I don't have the best filter at times, I just kinda... say stuff."

"It's totally fine."

"I am usually very professional, I hope you don't think otherwise."

"Skye," he says in a serious tone, meeting my eyes, "you don't have to worry about being 'professional.' Things are very casual on tour. This is not a regular nine-to-five job, it's... music. Trust me, the things I've seen on tour... let's just say it's more like a frat house than a boardroom."

"Oh," I say with a small laugh. "My mom would have a heart attack. She's a real stickler for the rules."

"Yeah? What about your dad?"

"Pretty much the same. They're both very straight-laced."

He hums in response as he sips his soda.

"Do you mind if I ask you something?" he asks with narrowed eyes.

"Go ahead."

"If your parents are pretty traditional, why did they name you so—nontraditional? I mean, I saw your middle name on your hiring paperwork. Skye Sunshine? Is that your real name?"

I sigh and I feel the blood rushing to my face.

Well this is embarrassing.

"That's me," I say with an awkward giggle. "My parents didn't name me though. I'm adopted. Well, me and my twin."