If you’ve never had the ultimate privilege of standing up on a stage in front of thousands of people, singing your heart out while they belt the same lyrics back to you … then I’m sorry but you haven’t lived.

It’s something akin to taking a hit of the strongest drug, not that I’ve tested that out, but I dabbled in the less severe substances in my earlier youth and can pledge that playing a concert for hundreds of screaming fans is better. It lights your skin up like a spark, charging you from the inside as if you stuck your hand in an electrical socket or something.

And tonight, it was as if the entire Los Angeles power grid was plugged directly into me.

Kara had only come to one or two of my early shows, the ones where I’d performed in clubs or small theaters to crowds of less than fifty people. In high school, she’d sat front row at every talent show, but once I’d come out here, she could never afford the flight. By the time I’d really starting hitting it big, we were already through.

Having her here, sitting across from me in the backstage dressing room, is making my legs shake uncontrollably.

“Are you okay?” She chuckles, watching me jump up and down with a mic in my hand, clearing my throat.

“Yep, just a pre-show ritual,” I lie, because I never do this. Typically, I’d be sitting on the couch reading Twitter, not concerned with all of those people out there waiting for me.

But this show, there was only one person I am intent on impressing.

“Remember when you made a sign for the sophomore year talent show? When I played that song by The Fray?” I take a sip of the same herbal tea I drink before every concert.

Kara’s cheeks crease under her smile. She looks gorgeous tonight; the maroon silky slip dress clinging to her body in places that make me want to shove my fist in my mouth out of sexual frustration. Paired with the chunky black combat boots and just-woke-up curls she’s sporting, she looks so punk rock that no one in the arena, from the crew to the fans, can seem to keep their eyes off of her. I never thought I was a jealous man, but I’ve wanted to spoon about a dozen guys’ eyes out of their heads.

“God, I was so embarrassing, wasn’t I? But you were great. You won, remember?”

Of course I remembered. She let me get to second base that night, but the trophy from the school was a good runner up.

“Remember the time I tried to get you to write and sing a duet with me?” I can’t help but bust out a laugh.

“Yes.” She fake pouts. “I tried to rhyme boring with orange. I was terrible.”

“It’s a good thing you had a mind for science, because artistry and words were really never your strong suit.”

Kara walks past me to grab an iced tea out of the mini-fridge in the corner, and pushes my arm. “And here I was, thinking that was going to hinder me in life. Now look at me. Engaged to a millionaire celebrity and not a care in the world.”

She flashes her ring at me and rolls her eyes, and we both smirk. Kara would never be the girl who let a man take care of her, staying home and living off him, and we both know it.

“Hey, how do you know I’m a millionaire?” I side-eye her as I take my guitar out of its case, tuning it.

“I went on Zillow and looked at your house. It’s worth like, six million dollars … which is ridiculous. Who has that kind of money?” She waves her hand.

“You cyber-stalked me? I thought you said you didn’t want to know anything about me?” At least that’s what she had said at the wedding so many months ago.

Kara shrugs, crossing her legs as she sits down, the dress riding up on her thighs. “I figured if I was living with you anyway, I could break my social media ban. Do you know you have like, dozens of girls sending you naked pictures on Twitter?”

And those were only the girls she could see publicly. She should see my direct messages. “Don’t worry, I don’t engage.”

“I wasn’t worried.” That answer surprises me, but maybe she took our conversation on the beach to heart.

It was true what I’d told her, I was done being angry. Ever since she’d stepped foot back in my life, even if it was orchestrated, it was like the dark cloud that had lingered over my days was lifted. I hadn’t even realized it was there, how much duller my life had been without her, but now it was like all of my senses had been turned to ten. There may still be complications, things left undiscussed, the court case and a contract that I now wanted to tear to pieces just to show her I meant real business when it came to us. But despite all of that, I was going to fight for Kara this time. I was going to do what I should have done seven years ago, and even if she clawed me at every turn, I was going to win her back.

“Money, girls … no wonder you got yourself into so much trouble. The Dean I knew stayed on the outside of the herd.” She was teasing me, because she still knew me so well.

“All of the wealth in the world still won’t bring happiness. And that same happiness everyone is searching for only comes with the right girl.” I give her a pointed look, making sure she didn’t forget my sentiments from the other day.

She brushes my seriousness off. “Psh, whatever. I’d love to show everyone out there the skinny freshman football player I knew. Here, give me your phone. I’m going to hack your Instagram.”

Kara always did get a kick out of my early football pictures. “I admit, I looked like a tool with that spiked up front hair. God, didn’t I dye that little front patch blond too? Who was I?”

“A tool, that’s who you were.” She sticks her tongue out at me.

The stage manager comes in and warns me that I need to be on stage in five minutes. I tune my guitar, sling it over my back, and finish my tea. Kara just sits there silently, but I feel her support. If I asked her for something right now, she actually might do it. It’s the first public appearance, besides dinner the other night, that I feel like we’re kind of a team instead of enemies about to rip out each other’s throats the minute we were alone.

When I’m ready, I hold out my hand for her to take before opening the door. We are alone, and yet … Kara laces her fingers through mine, her skin feeling like velvet. We stand there a moment, staring at our connected body parts and experiencing the immensity of the moment, before I unlock the door and step out.

On the way to the stage, some professional musician photographer snaps our photos, and I can only imagine it will end up in Rolling Stone or something of the like. The crowd’s stomps and chants grow louder as we go.

“Oh my God, I’ve never been on the back end of this. Sure, I’ve gone to concerts, but this is insane. It’s so loud!” Kara laughs like a child, and her bright enthusiasm makes me feel refreshed in a way I haven’t been in ages playing a show.

“You stay here, I’ll be able to see you the whole time. Front row, as always,” I joke, referencing her sign escapades in high school.

“Give them the sparkle, baby.” She winks, and I think the buzz of the crowd has her high because she’s never used that nickname in all the time she’s been in LA.

We open up the show in grand style, me and the band I’ve been working with for three years. There is no more struggling through, no guessing if someone might make a misstep. Neil, Johnny, our bassist, Garrett, the piano and keys man, and Mitch on backup guitar were as ace as any band I’d ever played with. We were a unit now, formed by mutual respect and a passion for great music.

The crowd picks up our groove, singing back to us and cheering wildly with each new song we break out into. About halfway through the show, I give the signal for one of my oldest, but favorite, songs I’ve ever written.

Neil counts off the song, and I strum the opening chords for “Bleacher Seats.” I wrote this song in a haze of whiskey and cigarettes at the ripe age of twenty-one, not able to get the words out without tears streaming down my face in a drunken stupor.

“This song is dedicated to the girl who blew my mind for the first time, and continues to do so now.” I smirk into the mic, and the crowd goes wild.

The screams are deafening as I start to sing, my eyes finding Kara, her body mesmerized just off stage.

Dark night, teen lives,

How could we break out this time?

Too hot, skin to skin,

My hands can’t wait to begin.

I hold the mic out to the crowd, letting them sing their hearts out for the next few lines. I never take my eyes from the woman who was owned my heart since I was a teenager. Her face and chest are broken out in the most enticing shade of pink, and I want to walk from the stage now and go get her.

The song is about us losing our virginity to one another, the night she’d opened my world and flayed my heart. Branded it in her specific ink, never to be tattooed by another.

Under the metal, velvet ’neath my fingertips.

Please don’t let this slip away, don’t slip away from me.

Risers grow into the sky, shielding us from the world.

Won’t you stay with me, hidden from view?

Explore me and I will discover you.

I sing the chorus, the words burning my throat as I belt them, my eyes a magnet to Kara’s gaze.

We are both thinking about it, that night that I’d torn through her barriers, the night we’d ventured from one plane of teenage life to the next. How much love had been contained under those bleachers, the grass soaking the blanket on that humid, dewy night of summer.

I will never get the image of her looking up at me under hooded lashes out of my head.

Or the fact that she’s giving me the same look right now.