The beach-side bar was packed with people, all standing shoulder to shoulder, beers in plastic cups threatening to spill while they bobbed left and right with the music that filled the space. The beat pounded through everyone, making the front row closest to the stage start jumping. They were the lucky ones. They had enough room to jump.

But, even for those stuck at the very back by the bathrooms, one thing was for sure: they were all having a fucking blast. Another thing they had in common? They were all there to see one person:

Crow Kensworth.

He sat on a stool in the middle of the stage as a white beam of light rose from behind him, casting its bright glow out onto the crowd, cutting out his shadow as it slowly crawled over Crow. He had timed this moment during rehearsals. He followed the line of light as it rose, letting his voice rise with it, singing louder and louder into the microphone as his song picked up the tempo. Drums kicked in. The guitar hit. Once the beam of light cleared Crow and was aimed at the ceiling, it flashed and started changing colors like a wild kaleidoscope. It was then that Crow jumped from his stool and smashed the chorus, practically lifting the roof off of the Santa Monica bar with his voice alone, helped by the cheering crowd.

Crow smiled from ear to ear as he looked out into the crowd, jumping on the stage to the beat as he sang his heart away. It was one of his favorites, a song about fragile young love turning into something as solid as scripture. He had written it during a particularly lonely night where his thoughts had seemed consumed with securing a perfect future that felt just out of his reach.

On stage, with the music vibrating in his bones, the last thing Crow felt was lonely. He lived for this. He looked to the front row and immediately spotted a dancing Red, his hand in the air, holding Caleb’s tight as they pumped their fists together and danced to the beat.

“Thank you! You guys are fucking crazy and I love you for it!” Crow shouted into the crowd as his song ended. There was only one song left before his performance was over. He wanted to make sure to end it on a high note. This performance meant more than usual. It was the official opening night of his American tour, the first tour he had ever headlined. It was nerve-wracking. Although he had a big YouTube following, he was still scared of showing up to empty venues or disappointing fans that were excited to see him live for the first time. He had confidence in himself, but it wasn’t unwavering. He still carried scars from a rocky road to adulthood, and that scar tissue was hard to ignore.

“What do you all say about me bringing up a special guest?” Crow said, laughing as the crowd sounded out a resounding ‘yes!’. He put a hand over his brows and looked out into the bar. He already knew who he was bringing up on stage, but he liked to put on a show. His eyes glided over eager faces, jumping and waving hands as much as they could without hitting their neighbors in the face. He was about to look back toward Red when someone caught his eyes and completely disarmed him. A man he had never seen before, but felt like he had known since the beginning. A face etched in his dreams and forged from his fantasies. He was sitting by the bar, his elbow leaning casually on the edge, a drink held loosely in his hands. People were packed in around him, but it seemed as though everyone else was disappearing. Even with the dim lighting on the crowd, Crow could still make out the man’s features as though the spotlight had been turned to him for the entire performance. He had a lethal combination of light sky blue eyes and sleek dark black hair with a strong set face and lips that immediately transfixed Crow and had his jeans feeling a size too tight. He thanked god the stylist had insisted he wear a pair of dark black jeans.

What the…

This had never happened to him. He had never been so taken by someone in the crowd. He heard the thump of his drummer behind him, reminding him that he wasn’t supposed to be standing there, frozen in place. He jerked out of his fixation and snapped his eyes back to the front row, where he locked his gaze with Red Miller.

“Alright, come on up here,” he said, reaching a hand down from the stage and closing his grip around Red’s. His best friend was smiling as Crow pulled him up from the crowd. Immediately, the bar erupted into cheers. Everyone knew who Red Miller was, they just hadn’t known he was partying with them until he was up on stage.

“Wow,” Crow said as the crowd calmed down. “That was almost a better reception than I got!”

The two men laughed as Franklin, the drummer, punctuated the comment behind them with a slap on the cymbal.

“Now, I’m not sure if you guys know, but Red doesn’t only know how to act for a living. This guy can match a note with the best of them.”

Red waved a hand in the air, as if he wasn’t going to admit it. Then, in one swift move, he grabbed the microphone from Crow’s hand and sang a crooney “Hello” which had the crowd howling. Crow laughed as Red took it away. He knew he was going to be pulled up on stage, so they had prepared a song for him to sing. It was one of Crow’s biggest hits and the entire bar started cheering the moment they recognized the beginning melody. Angela, Crow’s tour manager, came from the side of the stage with a microphone stand, placing it in front of Crow before running off with a wave to the crowd. The stagehand looked scared that they had messed up, but Crow knew Angela just liked taking control of things. He grabbed his mic and jumped in on the song with Red as he was hitting the chorus.

He started to lose himself in the melody, riding the high of the crowd with the pulse of the beat, mixing together to create an unbeatable euphoria.

And then their eyes met again and all bets were off.

Breathtaking blue in a sea of gray. Color exploded from the man’s gaze, locking Crow in a trance. Thankfully, it was Red’s turn to take over the vocals, jumping in and slaying the second verse, all while Crow swayed to the song with his eyes pinned on the man in the crowd.

He’s smirking.

And then the man looked away, down at whatever drink he had in his hands. This had the effect of poking a bee’s nest —no, no, fuck that, it had the effect of slamming a beehive with a baseball bat. Crow felt a swell in him, ready to explode outward. An energy that had him ready to bring the house down with his voice. He wanted this man’s attention again. The rest of the crowd faded. The only one that mattered was that square-jawed god sipping on his damn drink like there wasn’t a kickass concert feet away from him.

Crow grabbed the mic off the stand and started to jump as the drums kicked in harder behind him. Red, who was loving all the attention, reached down and grabbed Caleb’s hand. He pulled his husband up onto the stage to another round of applause. He did it all while keeping time with the song. Caleb wasn’t exactly a show boater like Red and Crow, but he was already a few beers in and the rush of the moment seemed to have taken him to a more comfortable place. He danced around the stage, jumping up and down, lifting his hands up and asking the crowd to do the same.

Then came Crow’s solo. He held onto the mic with both hands and slammed into the vocals, lifting the crowd with him, giving them exactly what they came for. He closed his eyes at first, drowning in the lyrics, letting himself feel the story he had written. The next moment, his eyes were open, his voice rising, and his body tuned in with the man who no longer looked down at his drink and instead was locked on Crow.

And then the song was over and Crow was left on the stage, hearing the blood pumping in his ears, the cheering of the crowd wanting more.

The man, he was clapping too. Not as much as the surrounding crowd, but he was clapping. A smile spread across that sexy face, wrinkling the corners of those mind melting baby blues. Red came up to Crow’s side and grabbed his wrist, raising it as they took a bow, Caleb joining in. The moment snapped Crow out of whatever spell those blue eyes were casting.

“Thank you!” Crow said, catching his breath. He ran a hand through his sweaty mess of a head, fussing up the thick brown locks in a way that only managed to make him look sexier. He was all smiles as he turned to exit the stage. He suddenly felt as though he had put on this show, this entire fucking tour, just for that one man with the blue eyes.

Damn. I need to talk to him.

“That crowd is crazy, you blew them away,” Red said over the still cheering crowd as they started to walk backstage. Caleb had already waved goodbye and was waiting in the wings, his smile wide and his expression saying ‘holy shit, that was crazy’.

Crow looked over his shoulder, his eyes immediately going to the spot at the bar. To his surprise (and his surprisingly strong disappointment) the man was no longer there.

“Yeah,” Crow agreed. “I can’t believe it.”

“I can,” Caleb chimed in as he grabbed Red’s hand. They walked down a small hallway behind the stage to a separate room for performers. Crow’s crew was already hanging out inside. Angela, who was clutching her favorite Simpsons beer mug, jumped up from the couch and opened her arms wide, spilling some beer onto Troy, who was sitting on the couch and flirting with Erica Stonestreet. She was Crow’s opener and performed under the name Caeri, a play on her birth name. She laughed as Troy shook his head, smiling as he soaked up the beer from his white t-shirt, using the sleeve of a discarded black sweater.

“You did amazing,” Angela said after ending the hug. “Sorry, Troy.”

“No worries, Ang. At least it’s the good stuff.”

“Damn right, it’s the good stuff! I don’t skimp out on you guys.”

Crow smiled as Angela nodded over to a small table at the back of the room. Drinks were lined up against the wall. As Crow got closer, he could see that the labels on the bottles had all been custom-made and all of them had to do with songs off his new album.

“You’re crazy,” he said, shaking his head as a wide smile spread across his face.

Another voice joined in. This one sing-songy. “My favorite is the ‘Boom-tini’ but the ‘Come Get Me’ is a really close second.” It was Jordan Arey, his PR guy. He put a hand around Crow’s lower back and led him to the jug of Boom-tinis. Angela busied herself by the ‘First Class Gin & Tonic’, striking up a conversation with Red and Caleb as Jordan tried to steal Crow away.

“Thanks, Jordan,” Crow said, smiling as Jordan poured him a drink and handed him the plastic cup filled to the brim with the dark red cocktail. They cheered to a good night. Behind them, Troy got up from the couch and opened the door, answering the three knocks. The stage manager stood there, her dark brown curls a little frazzled from running around all night. She held a bouquet of big blue and yellow roses with a card attached.

“Hey, Crow,” Troy called out. Crow secretly thanked him, seeing as Jordan was getting way too touchy feely. He must have been drinking since before the show started, which guaranteed Crow a few butt slaps and chest rubs. Normally, he didn’t mind it, and only because he thought he and Jordan had established that they were just friends. Lately, though, Jordan had been really pushing at that friend-line.

“These for me?” Crow asked, recognizing his two favorite colors.

“Yeah,” Angela answered from the couch.

“Awesome,” Crow said. He loved receiving gifts, and not so much because of the gift itself (although obviously that was great too), but also because he could never really believe people liked him enough to send random flowers and gifts. He connected with them while he was on stage and out by the bar, and he had confidence in his music to know that he was good, but he still had a hard time comprehending how people could like him that much.

With a huge smile on his face, his grabbed the note that was sitting shut under the bouquet. He opened it and read the first sentence, going on to the second, and the third. It was on the fourth that his mood soured and his smile faded. By the end of the note, Crow was staring down at the floor, his brows furrowed, his brain trying to piece together whatever the hell he had just read. A cold tendril of fear curled around his spine, causing him to shiver it away.

Well… fuck.