"You're really good at that."

"I still don't know what I'm doing."

"Whatever you're doing, it's working."

August had asked me to give him another massage in the artists' lounge before his concert.

"I think you're just hoping for another heavy petting session like last time," I said.

"Am I that transparent?"

"Behave. You go on stage in less than fifteen minutes. Not to mention the guys could walk in at any time."

"Let them watch."

"Sorry, not an exhibitionist."

August chuckled. I continued the massage.

"You sure you're going to be okay tonight?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"That thing with Seth."

August stretched his arms over his head, rotating his shoulders.

"It's like I told the others. We're replacing one of the encores with a drum-off. I won't be playing for any longer than I normally would."

"But you'll be putting a lot more effort into it than usual. I know how much you want to win."

August raised an eyebrow.

"I don't want to win. I'm going to win. Seth is a kid. I'll barely have to put any effort into it at all."

Seth wasn't any more of a kid than August was, but I let him have the point.

"I know you. You're going to go all out. Just don't hurt yourself, okay?"

Someone knocked on the lounge door.

"Ten minutes," a voice called out.

August stood.

"Kiss me for good luck?"

"I thought you didn't need luck. Aren't you going to beat the pants off Seth?"

"I'm not going to beat him. I'm going destroy him."

"Don't scare the guy away from the music industry forever."

"He's the one who proposed a drum-off against me."

"At least leave him with some self-esteem intact."

"No promises."

Standing on my tiptoes, I pressed a kiss to August's smirking lips. He tugged me close. His hands wandered, pressing into the small of my back, urging our hips together. I melted into his arms.

Eventually we had to part, my lips glossy from our kiss. I ran my fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face like he always did with mine.

"Have fun out there," I told him.

"Always do."

As August left for the stage, I gathered my camera equipment. I would have thought taking photos of the same concert night after night would get tiring or tedious, but there was always something new to catch, some new angle or aspect of their performance to convey.

It helped that I had more confidence in myself and my work, no longer doubting everything I did. August stopped taking more than a cursory look at my photos, taking it as a given that they were up to his standards.

I wandered around the concert hall, using my VIP pass to gain access to all kinds of restricted areas. I even crawled down underneath the stage to get shots from below. The entire stage frame shook with the heavy drum and bass, making my bones rattle.

At the start I would have worried the whole thing would come crashing down on me. Now I was blasé about it. I'd seen enough concerts now to trust the event staff and crew to know what they were doing.

The concert was nearing its end. The guys left the stage. Normally they would be getting ready for their encore. This time, the crew members scrambled to set up a second drum set for the drum-off.

I crawled back up from under the stage. I wanted to get shots of this up close.

Identical quiet, hissed voices came from the far corner.

"…can't tell him…"

"He already knows. Did you see his face as we left the stage?"

Damon and Ian were speaking in hushed tones. I continued up the stairs when I heard something that made me stop.

"You know what August's like," came Cameron's voice. "If we say anything…"

The three of them went silent. I held my breath. I knew I shouldn't eavesdrop, but I couldn't make myself walk away.

"So what do we do?" Ian asked. "It's not like he sucks or anything. He's just…"

"Not perfect anymore," Noah said. I could hear the worried frown in his voice.

I didn't know enough about music to tell whether or not August's playing sounded different. But if the other band members of Darkest Days said something was off, there was no way August couldn't hear the difference himself.

I didn't want the guys to know I'd been listening in on them, so I waited until they moved on. I wanted to speak to August, but he and Seth were already on stage, microphones in hand as they explained to the audience the change in tonight's encore.

I forced myself to concentrate on taking photos. This was an interesting one-off event that wouldn't happen again. If I didn't get photos tonight, there wouldn't be another chance. Plus, I was sure Cherry Lips would appreciate the extra publicity they'd earn by being associated with Darkest Days like this.

To my ears, Seth and August both drummed their hearts out. They improvised their playing on the fly, making up the tunes as they went along, trying to outdo each other with every passing minute. Then August let loose with an unbelievable series of drum beats, his arms a blur, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

On and on it went, furious and frenetic, until Seth had to stop, unable to keep up. He lowered his drumsticks and clapped his hands, cheering August on even as he shook his head in gracious defeat.

August hit a final, one-handed beat, a crash of symbols reverberating through the concert hall. The audience was silent for the briefest of moments before roaring their approval. He stood behind his drum set, chest heaving, brow glistening with sweat. The triumphant smirk on his lips was pure August. He knew he'd won.

I waited backstage for August to appear. I didn't know what I'd say to him. Maybe congratulate him, or ask if he was okay after that display, perhaps offer another massage. If the guys had been worried about August not performing as well as he normally did, their concerns must have been put to rest. August had been on fire.

August and Seth left the stage at the same time, with Seth clapping August on the back. Assistants quickly gathered around them, passing out water bottles and towels.

"I owe Nate a thousand bucks," Seth complained, but there was a grin on his face. He'd clearly had the time of his life out there. Just being able to play opposite August Summers must have been a dream come true.

I snapped a dozen photos of the two of them backstage before Seth gave August one last grin and hopped off to gather with the rest of his band members who were ready with both congratulations and condolences.

"You did great out there," I told August. "You were right about destroying Seth. He couldn't even keep up at the end."

August's face was obscured as he toweled off his hair, soaking up the droplets that turned the platinum a darker blond. He hung the towel around his neck, looking back at Seth.

"What do you think, did I scare him off music forever?" August asked.

"No worries. He seems to be going strong."

"I worked up a sweat out there." He watched the stage as the crew members dismantled the equipment. "I'm going to get a quick change of clothes."

"Will you need help?"

He shook his head. August turned his head towards the artist lounge, avoiding my eyes. He started to walk off. Worried, I placed a hand on his arm.

"Are you sure your shoulder isn't bothering you?"

August glanced at me. Our eyes met, my own dark to his ice-blue.

A hazy, distant blue.

I froze.

He quickly flicking his eyes away.

"I'm fine," he said.

I stood still, letting my hand fall to my side as August continued on to the artist lounge.

My heart clenched in my chest.

It couldn't have been…

But if it was…

Looking around quickly, I caught sight of Damon talking to a guitar tech. I rushed over, a lump in my gut.

"Damon." My voice shook slightly. "I think…"

Damon noticed my shaky tone. Concerned, he waved the guitar tech away, a furrow between his brows.

"What? What is it?"

I swallowed hard. I didn't want to say it. But I knew I had to.

"I think August is on drugs again."