Taylor Swift & Travis Kelce inspired romance. Can you find all the Easter eggs? |
Trace Kelton, a charismatic NFL star, is on the brink of losing it all after attempting to save an intoxicated woman that ended with him hospitalizing three men. To p...
The crowd was loud, but Syler's physical state was louder. Trace had watched her struggle through sound checks, rehearsals, vocal warm-ups, hair and makeup. And it all worried the hell out of him. This show was not going to go well.
She was stumbling into his arms every hour for a break. Her skin was clammy like she had a fever, and she wasn't eating and drinking enough.
And now the crowds had formed, and the fans were chanting her name.
He watched the stage from a TV screen backstage, where he could peek out and see her through the slits in the staging.
And up she rose from the center of the stage, and his nerves prickled with concern.
She smiled, but it didn't fool him. However, her cheering fans seemed to give her the energy he was hoping for. Her eyes glittered with that popstar sparkle as the music rose, filling the stadium. She opened her mouth to sing and nothing less than perfect came out.
She hit every note, every dance step, every nuance. Trace found himself suddenly lusting over her the same intensity as he did the first time.
How was she doing this? How was she so perfect and beautiful, knowing she was crumbling on the inside.
Her first costume change came and went in a flash. The team stripped her, and she shimmied into the next outfit like clockwork. And while they did, he couldn't take his eyes off hers—off the darkness that surrounded them. The way she kept them closed a bit longer every blink. And the way her mouth hung open like her jaw was just a bit too heavy to keep closed.
Before she got into position to head back out, she looked at him, smiled, and grabbed her phone from the small stool that held her water.
She put her phone face down and turned to head back out.
Trace's phone dinged with a message from Syler.
Syler: I'm glad you're here.
What a turn of events. Trace smiled. Though she was exhausted, she still took the time to think of him.
Then, another text rolled in from his agent.
Kyle: Did you fucking hurt Syler Trixie? Are you serious?
Just reading the sentence caused a spike of anxiety to roll through him. Images of him punching her at the bar haunted his mind. It made his stomach roll and his hands sweat. Trace didn't think there would be anything in the world that could make that up to her. But, the photos didn't get released, so playing dumb it was.
Trace: What? Of course not.
Kyle: Everyone at the concert suspecting she's hiding bruises on her arm that you gave her.
He looked out through the slats in the stage, eyeing the bandage around her forearm that hid the long bloody scratches Madds gave her.
Kyle: And have you seen this?
Up came a link that sent him to the video of Penelope stating that he was an abuser. Trace rolled his neck as his stomach flipped with a mixture of anger and apprehension. It felt like a clock was ticking toward the end of their connection and Trace was dreading every second of it.
Trace was just thankful that for the next two hours Syler would be away from these lies. He had to cement her feelings for him before she faced all this bullshit. Because what if she believed it? Trace scrubbed his face with his hand, tension filling every muscle.
Trace: She's lying.
Kyle: It doesn't matter, man. What matters is what people believe.
Kyle: If Syler doesn't release a statement about you soon, say goodbye to your one true love. Football.
To release a statement meant to tell her what was happening. Tick tock. An extra arrow slashed him through the heart. He was about to lose Syler and football.
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Did you find any Easter eggs?
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While you wait for the next chapter, please check out my Rapunzel-inspired dark fantasy romance, "Body of Chaos"!
