𝐄𝐍𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐘 | 𝟏𝟖+

41

Soren's POV

The venue pulsed with anticipation, and I stepped forward, the guitar slung across my shoulder. Our drummer—Wes— initiates the beat, setting the stage for Valerie. The familiar chords fill the air, and the crowd responds with a collective surge of excitement.

As I sang the opening lyrics, the words weaved a story that the audience loved. Our backup guitarist, Dean, joined in, his chords intertwining seamlessly with mine. The crowd swayed in unison, caught in the spell of the music.

The spotlight casted a warm glow, and I caught glimpses of faces lost in the melody.

There were signs that ranged from, "I love The Morning," to, "I have three holes for a reason,"

I smiled to myself while reading the sex sign.

Igniting myself back into the song, I grabbed onto the mic, and unbuttoned my shirt the slightest bit.

Nico's precision drove the rhythm, each beat bouncing through the venue like a heartbeat. The room became a shared space, where the lyrics of Valerie echoed the emotions coursing through the crowd.

The song ended, and the lights dimmed, indicating that was the last song on our setlist.

The crowd was filled with "awes" and screams.

I even heard someone yell we were cunts for not doing one more song.

Nico, Dean, and I exited the stage, satisfied with our two hour long performance.

"Did you see the chick with the rack in the front row?" Dean asked, his mouth practically drooling. "I gotta have Callum give her a VIP pass." He ran a hand through his wavy blonde hair.

Callum Ellis was our agent. He booked all our concerts, interviews, and negotiated contracts. His British ass could negotiate anything.

Scottie Ford, our publistist, handles all our media. Photos, PR campaigns, press releases, and everything in between. She knew basically the entire world.

"You can take her," Nico replied, "I got a hot date with the woman from the diner this morning."

"She's like...twelve years older than you, dude." Dean laughed. We walked into one of the dressing rooms, and Dean and I took off our guitars and laid them against a wall.

"So?" Nic retorted. "I'm fucking her, not marrying her."

I interrupted. "Have you two ever not fucked someone in a city we toured in?"

They both looked at each other, smiled, then back at me, "no," they said in unison.

"Don't try to act all abstinent, we saw two brunettes come out of your hotel room this morning." Nic pointed out.

"Yeah," Dean joined in, "better hope they don't run their mouths about how hot Angel Romano is."

"I'm not sure what you two assholes are on about," I stated, feigning innocence, "the only two brunettes who left my room this morning signed NDA's."

"You and your confidentiality shit," Nic said, turning to the mirror to check his hair, "I just fuck them and hopefully they brag to their hottest friends about how good Nico Ramirez can put it down,"