She brings the mic up to her lips and asks, “Are you fuckers ready for one of the best damn bands at this festival!”

I scream along with the crowd to answer her question.

“These guys are one of my personal favorites, not to mention they look pretty fucking amazing, too. Right, ladies?” She pauses and allows for crowd reaction. “Give it up for BLACK FALCON!”

Trip takes the stage first and throws up a metal sign. People scream at the black-haired rocker as he takes his seat and gives the bass drum a kick. Tyke comes out second and picks up his bass guitar. Screams erupt when he thumps a couple cords out. The two twin brothers look at each other and smile like they have an inside secret, and it drives the fans nuts.

Riff and Noel come onstage together. My eardrums feel like they are about to explode from the sheer volume in this stadium. Noel glances my way on the side of the stage, and I wave to him. Riff, still clueless, smirks at me and wiggles his tongue while his back is to Noel.

Dear God, does this asshole think I’m here for him?

I roll my eyes at Riff, and he smiles before he puckers his lips at me. He just doesn’t get it and won’t take no for an answer.

The band kicks up and plays their intro song. I do my best to stare past Riff and watch Noel perform, but every time Riff sees me he makes sexual gestures of some kind—once even thrusting his hips while stroking his guitar. The crowd loves it, of course, but my stomach is about five seconds from losing the bagel I ate on the airplane.

Noel leans into the mic and wraps both hands around it. He licks his lips and closes his eyes. The red stage light on him causes something in me to stir. It’s like it’s highlighting him as the most sexually pleasing man I know. My knees buckle when his voice belts out a love song. The audience sings along to every word. I sway to the beat, but never take my eyes off of him.

Something flies up on stage at Noel’s feet. I look down and realize it’s a thong. These women are actually throwing their disgusting panties at him. Several more join the first one at Noel’s feet.

Riff steps up to his mic. “That’s what I like to see. Horny women! Damn.” He points out. “You fuckers better not let all that pussy go to waste. Now show me some titties.”

Men throughout the place cheer and chant. “GET NAKED! GET NAKED!”

A couple girls near the front row climb onto guys’ shoulders and rip off their tops and shake their boobs at Riff and Noel. My hands clench in fists, and I have half the mind to go yank them down and ask just where do they get off shoving their breasts in Noel’s face?

But thankfully Noel just shakes his head at Riff and laughs. The muscles in my body relax a little. I remind myself that this is part of Noel’s life. It’s all an act. It isn’t like he’ll be screwing around with those girls later just because they flashed him, will he? I know I walked in on him with those two sluts back in Houston, but I don’t think he’d do that now that I’m here. Would he?

Riff, on the other hand, I’m not so sure about. There were several times I’d spoken to Noel after a show and he told me Riff had some random groupie in the foxhole with him. Sometimes I could even hear the girl screaming in pleasure. It was disgusting.

Riff glances at Noel and points at one topless girl and nods his head. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!”

I shake my head, again. Riff is a complete sex fiend. The only reason he’s in a band is probably for the women.

Noel’s smooth voice shoots out over the crowd. I close my eyes. It’s like a beautiful lullaby. For a hard-rock band, they could sure play a sweet ballad.

I open my eyes, and my gaze locks on Noel’s eyes. He sings into the mic about the love of a good woman and I feel a blush creep up my neck. When the chorus hits, he breaks our stare and faces the audience. Cell phones light up across the sea of people and they dance like fireflies in the dusk.

The song ends, and the crowd roars until Trip pounds out a fast beat on the drums. Tyke and Riff join in, and the song zings to life.

Noel’s voice changes to his signature growl he likes to use when the band rocks out. He yanks the mic off the stand and bends at the waist to belt out a note. The crowd hypes up when he runs from one corner of the stage to the next. Girls stretch out their arms, hoping to touch him, and guys reach out for a high-five.

Everyone wants a piece of him.

The song ends, but the guys play an extra few bars on the song to allow Noel time to thank the crowd before they wrap up their set.

Tyke waves to the fans before he heads behind the stage. Riff throws out guitar picks, and Trip wings his sticks out to the people in the back. Noel wipes his face with a white hand towel before he tosses it into the mass of people. There are about ten fans that shove and grab for the towel before one lucky guy yanks it into his grasp.

The life of a rock star is unreal.

Big Bertha is quiet when Noel and I climb inside, which is a relief after we just fought our way through a ton of screaming women on the other side of security. Those guys in the yellow shirts have to put up with a lot of crap to protect the stars.

Noel’s sweat drenched shirt clings to his sculpted chest. His normal fohawk is a flat disaster. “I need to go shower. I’ll only be a few minutes. Wait for me right here?”

He brings my right hand up to his lips and kisses my fingertips. A rush of warmth spreads through me before I pull them away. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Noel grins at me before he rushes off toward the small bathroom on the bus.