Spin

Seventeen

[FINN]

"Finn, you remember Gwen?"

I do not.

"Yeah. 'Course."

Maybe Gwen and maybe Gwen snickered, seeing right through my response. I sipped my beer as Dylan gave me a knowing smile, throwing me a line.

"This is Valerie and Marissa, they work with Gwen."

"Pleasure," I nodded, feeling the awkward undercurrent as all three stared at me with expectant smiles. I cleared my throat, knowing Dylan wasn't going to let me off that easy. "Excited for the show?"

I did my best to hide my disinterest, politely engaging as best I could. Valerie and Marissa looked just like Gwen, who looked just like Cara, who looked just like Sadie, and so on and so forth. While our usual routine before a gig was far less organized, a bit more rowdy, and a hell of a lot more hectic, it somehow worked with my creative process. I could hide away in a closet and tune my guitar in solitude, or I could share a joint with Ace on the couch and ease any jitters. It worked for me and it got me in the right headspace to face the thousands waiting on the other side of the wall.

The difference between the backstage atmosphere of the previous tour and our current one was night and day and I was nearing my breaking point. I'd figured the first few shows would be a bit of a wildcard, Dylan rambling on about the importance of socializing with industry folk and widening the reach of our music. There were managers and models, agents and influencers, actors and actresses — pretty much anyone Tower deemed important was given a backstage pass. To my dismay, we were weeks in and nothing had changed, no matter how many times I'd tried to gently communicate to Dylan it wasn't working.

"What's your favorite song off the album?"

Dylan was no longer playing chaperone, having disappeared into the crowd, though Valerie and Marissa were lingering. I did my best to ignore the familiar glint in both of their eyes, focusing on anything else. I also tried to ignore the others, all clones of the two in front of me, not-so-subtly crowding around us waiting for their turn.

"Uh, man? Think it really depends on the day. I guess Fever Dream at the moment, I've heard it's the best part of our set. Goes a bit mad."

"I'm so excited," the blonde — whichever one she was — responded eagerly. "That's the one where you make that sexy little growl, right?"

"Oh my god, I love that part," the other was quick to chime in, not-so-subtly competing with her friend.

As if Rory could sense what was unfolding from the nearly 6,000 miles away she was, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I liked to think I was a fairly polite lad generally speaking, but I didn't have it in me to continue faking interest, apologizing as I pulled the device out.

I'm going to kill you. You took the Tom Petty shirt. You KNOW that's my favorite to sleep in!

I was more than pleased with her surprisingly light tone, having navigated one of her cold spells for the previous 24 hours or so. While we hadn't addressed the elephant in the room, I had a hunch it had something to do with the Stella cover we'd done in the Live Lounge. Thankfully, it seemed as though we were moving on.

I smirked, finishing off the beer and setting it on the nearest surface so I could respond.

Oops. Come get it?

"Can we get pictures?"

"Finn?"

I glanced up, hearing Dylan's commanding tone. She was smiling but she spoke with her eyes, directing her gaze at all of the people clearly waiting for a conversation. A silent, hurry it up.