We immediately left for Maine following the Northampton show (at a real reasonable 12:30 AM). Despite the wave of exhaustion that hit me by the time we got back to the bus, I was starting to really understand the travel schedule - even though the band had tomorrow off, it was in everyone's best interest to travel overnight so everyone had a full rest day at the next location.

Evie even briefly mentioned spending the afternoon roaming around Portland - something I might have had to tough out through the exhaustion just so they'd keep inviting me to hang out with them. When I was in college, I had developed this fear that if I ever said no to people when they asked me to hang out, they'd stop asking. God forbid I ever just asked myself. 

I'd posted a nifty little edit of the No Scrubs cover to Instagram after I'd changed and settled myself in my bunk and tried to shut my body down. You'd think after almost a full week of traveling by bus, I would get used to sleeping on it. It wasn't that the bed was uncomfortable, but between the bumping and rocking of the bus, the feeling of being almost too enclosed, and knowing who lurked in the bunk across from me, I was filled with restless energy, despite being tired as all hell.

I couldn't get the image of him on stage out of my head. Every time I'd close my eyes I'd see him, and my heart would lurch as if I'd never seen a boy smile before.

It was 3:30 in the morning when I decided tossing and turning in my little cubby was unproductive, and I figured maybe stretching my legs and doing a few laps around the bus might have expelled some of that unwanted energy. When I slipped out of my bunk, it was almost pitch black, save for the occasional flashing of streetlights through the windows as we whizzed by them on the highway. There was a soft snoring coming from Gareth in one of the other bunks, but I tiptoed through the little hallway as if it were dead silent, terrified that my footsteps would wake everyone.

Think of the devil and he always appears. When I crossed the threshold into the lounge area, I nearly tripped over my feet at the sight of Devon, asleep on one of the leather couches. The black Yeti tumbler he always drank from sat beside his open laptop on the table, but the screen was dark, meaning he'd probably fallen asleep a while ago.

I was just about ready to retreat back to my bunk and resign myself to a restless night when he rolled over onto his side with a tired sigh. His body was facing me now, and I was transfixed against my will. Locks of his hair had fallen across his forehead in slivers of shadow, and his lips were parted just slightly as his chest rose and fell with steady, heavy breaths. His ratty old t-shirt had bunched up just slightly around his torso, and the mere sight of the skin between the bottom hem of his shirt and the waistband of his underwear just poking out above his shorts made my whole body vibrate with an unfamiliar, almost carnal instinct. I wanted to digest this image of him now, soft and vulnerable but somehow sexy and alluring, from the illegible swirls of ink around his belly button to the soft rolls of his stomach as he stretched and arched his back with a delicate groan.

I swallowed hard, feeling like a starved animal who'd just been presented a bowl of food, then told to wait. Before I realized it, I was walking over to him slowly, my body moving with complete and utter disregard for my brain telling it to stop, reaching out and brushing my fingers along that pale, tattooed sliver of skin. This was what it felt like to be under an evil spell. I was so sure of it.

Just as my pinky met the black waistband of his Calvin Kleins, a few long, tattooed fingers ensnared my wrist. I gulped as I turned my head to see an unexpectedly smug grin on his face.

"See something you like, Polly Pocket?"

The low rumble of his voice kicked whatever mode my body was on into maximum overdrive. I recoiled quickly, snapping myself upright as he sat up on the couch with a groan.

"I was just..." I managed to stammer out, but he didn't buy it. Not for one second.

That smug little smirk of his lifted his lips just a bit more, and while I was sure I was hallucinating, I almost thought I actually saw a glint of fangs this time. "Then why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you want to devour me."

I could barely force the words past the growing knot in my throat. "I'm not the one obsessed with eating other people. That's you."

He got to his feet and closed the space between us before I could blink, his movements quick but subtle like a black cat in the night.

"Is it just me?" he arched an eyebrow.

"It is," I told him, desperate to put a definitive edge to my voice.

He lowered his head so that his lips were just millimeters from my ear, the warmth of his breath cascading down my skin. "I think you're lying. I think you want to know what it's like to sink your teeth into me."

He reached down to wrap his fingers around my wrists and guide my hands up his shirt, satisfying whatever craving I'd had to touch him earlier. His skin was smooth despite all the subtle ridges and divots of the ink covering his torso, and god he was so warm. My heart was so far up my throat I was worried that if I opened my mouth to speak, I would vomit it up.

"Do it," he whispered, his voice husky and sharp. He'd let go of my wrists, but I kept my hands on his bare torso, feeling his heart throb in his chest. "Give in."

And so I did, still spellbound, rocking forward on my toes so I could kiss him. Taste him. Savor him.

There was no hesitation from him, and I felt my jaw unhinge as he swept his tongue along the inside of my mouth, his movements hungry and sloppy. Without separating we dropped back into the couch with me in his lap, and with two big hands on my ass he guided me back and forth on the growing bulge in his shorts. His size shouldn't have come as a surprise to me, but as I grinded deeper into his hips, it felt like I was waking some kind of beast. At least, he groaned like one.

Maybe it was that sound he made that snapped me back to reality for just a second, but suddenly I realized that I was in fact straddling Devon McCall on our tour bus, dry humping him while his tongue was down my throat. But I didn't stop. I wanted more of him in the worst way.

I realized then and there that it wasn't a spell at all. No, it was just me, acting upon something deep and primal, all at once aware of a growing hunger inside of me - one that still didn't seem satiated. So I kept feeding her.

I reached up to tangle my hands in his hair, pulling his head back slightly and exposing his tattooed neck so I could run my tongue along the veins pulsing on his skin. As I sucked and nibbled at him, I was certain I could have actually taken a bite out of him, and he must have known.

"How do I taste?" He moaned into my ear, and the sound of his voice so heavy and so needy made my insides churn.

"Delicious," I breathed against his neck. My hands found the bottom of his shirt again, giving in to my ridiculous unhinged desires from the show and pinching the hem of it before tugging it over his head. He smirked as he tossed his shirt to the side, and while it was too dark to really make out anything definitive, I was in awe over his fully tattooed chest. He really was art.

"My turn." A low growl came from his chest that reminded me of the way he used to sound in those old videos I'd seen. Deep and guttural and almost animalistic. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle."

He wrapped an arm around my waist and flipped us so that my back was pinned down against the couch. He was heavy and hard as he lowered his body onto mine, pressed between him and the leather cushions in the way that flowers were pressed into books. I let out a soft moan as he brought his mouth to my neck, kissing me needily as if he wanted to taste me just as bad.

My head spun as he slipped his hand under my pajama top, leaving blistering trails of heat everywhere his fingers touched my bare skin. My stomach rippled. God I was starving.

"Devon," I sighed out, and I barely recognized my own voice. "What do you want from me?"

When he pulled his head up so he could look down at me, his eyes went dark. Darker than I'd ever seen them. "I want to eat your soul."

The whole bus went dark, and suddenly I felt trapped. I pushed at him, but he was monstrously strong and unmovable. I went to scream, but nothing came out. When he smirked down at me again, there they were - shiny, pointy fangs.

I squeezed my eyes shut, and this time when I screamed again I heard it, followed by a loud thunk as I slammed my head against the bunk above me.

When I opened my eyes, I was back on the bus. Soft light trickled in through the closed curtains, and there was no movement or hum of the engine. In fact, it was dead silent.

"Oh god," I groaned as I clutched my forehead, feeling a bump already start to form. I dropped back onto the mattress, feeling my whole nervous system still on overdrive from whatever that just was. I fumbled around for my phone so I could check the time, and when I picked it up, the screen was black. In my aggravatingly restless exhaustion, I'd clearly forgotten to plug it in overnight.

"Just great," I grumbled.

After a few more moments to steady my breath and still my heart, I slid out of my bunk, this time with far more care than I had in my dream. When I glanced around at all the empty bunks, it seemed like everyone was up and awake. I quickly grabbed my old NYU hoodie and threw it on over my pajama top before making my way into the bus lounge.

I wished I was less surprised this time at the sight of him sitting on the couch in the lounge, this time very much awake and clacking away on his laptop with his big black headphones on.

Locks of his hair fell gracefully onto his forehead as he kept his head down, eerily similar to the way he'd looked in my dream. My heart throbbed in my chest as I found myself hyper-fixating on the way he poked his tongue out to lick his bottom lip, looking to make sure there were no fangs.

"You alright?" He asked without looking up from his laptop. "Must have been some fucking dream."

"What?" I asked, still breathless at the sight of him.

"Well, you screamed bloody murder and then slammed your head on the bunk above you." This time his eyes flickered up, gazing at me over the top of his laptop screen. My whole body warmed under his dark eyes. "Don't worry, we've all done it before."

"It was more like a nightmare," I grumbled and turned away from him, rubbing at the sore spot on my forehead again. Now there was definitely a big solid bump there. As much as I wanted to desperately forget I ever had that dream, that bump would be there to remind me at least for a few more days. Terrific. "Where is everyone else?"

"Took a walk down to the harbor," he responded, his head down in his laptop again. "We're like, right on the water."

I shifted on my feet as I glanced around again at the empty bus. I'd told Evie yesterday I would be interested in going out with them today. Did they just forget, or did they knowingly leave me behind? I wasn't sure which was worse.

Devon sniggered. "Don't worry, they didn't leave you behind. They just didn't wanna wake you."

I shook my head. "Oh, I wasn't-"

"Spare me," he rolled his eyes. "You're so obvious."

I scoffed at him, but my heart continued to throb in anticipation. Just how obvious was I? Obvious enough to know I'd just woken up from an intense sexually charged dream about him that somehow morphed into a nightmare?

Even so, something about the way he sat there, curled up on the couch with his head down, had me transfixed, just like my dream. I wasn't sure how much I believed in analyzing your own dreams, but maybe cannibalism really was a metaphor for something.

"Why didn't you go with them?" I asked, this time letting my voice soften.

He shrugged. "Didn't feel like it."

Even though his tone was as even as ever, that shyness that I knew he had in him lingered in the background. I wondered if he realized how obvious he'd become to me too.

"Come on," I heaved out a sigh motioned for him to get up. "Let's go."

"Why?"

"Because I want you to."

This time when he looked up at me, I saw that boy from the stage again, eyes bright like maybe he was capable of doing good and being good. That was the Devon that kept me up at night, maybe because that was the Devon I longed to see more of.

"Fine," he finally sighed out with a groan, as if I was asking him to cut off limbs. But I was undeterred.

"Well then, I'm just gonna get changed," I told him, feeling satisfaction well up inside me.

"It's cold," he called after me. "And I'm not giving you my jacket so bring your own."

I smirked back at him as I backed out of the lounge. I dug through one of my suitcases and yanked out the first pair of jeans I could find, along with a cream sweater and my cropped North Face puffer jacket.

When I returned to the lounge, he was already up and waiting by the door, wayfarers perched on top of his head and hands jammed into the pockets of his black and gray camo printed bomber jacket. He was a sight, unfortunately.

He tilted his head for me to follow him, and I did so far more eagerly than I should have.

The venue where we'd parked was a short walk from the bay, where a boardwalk ran beside a short strip of dark-sanded, gravel-dotted beach, and docked boats bobbed up and down in the deep blue water. Devon wasn't kidding when he said it was cold, and I zipped my jacket up all the way to the top as another gust of wind came in from the water.

"Damn, I wish I didn't have to leave my phone on the bus," I said as we slowly treaded down the beach in search of the rest of the heathens. "This is like, the most aesthetic town we've been in."

"Why?" he snorted. "So you can post meticulously curated pictures on your Instagram so everyone knows what a good time you're having and how well traveled you are?"

"And here I thought you were going to be nice to me today," I drawled, rolling my eyes behind the lenses of my Prada sunglasses. "What even makes you think that's what I was going to do?"

He raked a few locks of windswept hair out of his face. "Again, spare me, because again, you're obvious."

"Well fine," I huffed, my breath materializing in front of me in a cloud of white. "Then what's wrong with that exactly?"

We'd made it to the edge of the boardwalk, where a short rocky cliffside led down to a larger stretch of beach. It was easy enough to spot Gareth in his neon orange jacket, chasing around Clark where the water met the shoreline while Evie sat on a checkered blanket and watched with laughter.

Devon took a few steps onto the rocks, then turned and offered me his hand. When I took it, he was just as warm as he'd been in my dream.

"I guess I just don't understand the whole need to be so performative," he replied, keeping his hand wrapped gently around my arm. I could have actually melted. "Like, why do you need people to know where you are and what you're doing?"

"I just do, okay?" I replied, snatching my hand away from him the moment we found steady footing on the beach. The juxtaposition of the need he had to help me down to the beach against his probing, semi-rude questions was dizzying, and I was at the very least thankful he'd kept me steady. I sure as hell didn't feel steady now. "I want to be liked. Admired. Whatever you want to call it. It's not a crime."

"No, but wanting so badly to be liked is almost as bad as-"

"Being antisocial with your own friends?" I arched a challenging eyebrow at him.

Devon exhaled a tight breath, a thin stream of smoke curling from his lips. "Sure. Something like that."

He stalked off in his boots to join Gareth and Clark, and Evie waved at me to sit beside her on the blanket. The fresh smell of the salty air and the sound of the waves gently lapping against the shore unwound me in a way I desperately needed. 

"Sleep well?" she asked with a grin.

"Uh, yeah, I did." I forced a tight smile. Liar, liar.

The sound of the boys' raised voices drew our attention, where Devon and Clark had somehow managed to corral Gareth, laughing as they carried him towards the water by his arms and legs.

"It's nice seeing him like this," Evie mused with a faint smile.

"Like what?" I asked.

"Just...happy," she let out a sigh. "It's been a while."

I was starved again, just like in my dream. But this time at least it was for information and not the blistering feeling of his skin.

"What was he like?" I asked, pulling at the sleeves of my jacket. "I mean, before all of this."

"Quiet, a little off-putting, and annoyingly perfect," Evie chuckled. "So basically, not much has changed."

I allowed myself a faint smile. "You've known him for a long time, huh?"

"Longer than anyone else in the band. And I hated him when I first met him too."

I laughed, even though maybe I shouldn't have, but Evie laughed too and continued on.

"We'd both gone to Dalton since kindergarten, but I didn't really know him until he swiped first cello chair from me in Chamber Orchestra in high school even though he was a freshman and I was a junior. I had to sit next to him every day for a whole semester and just listen to how much better he was than me. I wanted to wring his skinny little neck."

Gareth had managed to escape the other two, and to a casual observer it really did just look like three boys playing a spastic version of tag, like we were all just little kids on the playground.

"I still can't believe either of you played the cello." I immediately realized what I said had deeper implications as Evie gave me a conspiratory smirk.

"Ah, so he did tell you."

I tried not to think about the fact that what she said implied the two of them had talked about me alone.

"So then what changed?" I asked, pushing through the curiosity. "I mean...what made you not hate him?"

Evie reached down and grabbed a fistful of sand, letting it slowly seep from her grasp and carry away into the wind. "Well, one day in the middle of rehearsal, he'd gone to the bathroom, and he was gone a long time. When he came back, it was obvious he'd been crying, and it was kind of weird seeing him like that because he was always so together, almost militaristic in a way."

I thought about the picture I'd seen in that Forbes article during my forbidden Google search. Militaristic was the perfect way to describe the way he'd looked there.

"So after rehearsal I noticed he was taking his time packing up. I kind of lingered, and finally just asked him if he was okay, and he just...broke down. He didn't say anything, he just cried. I felt terrible, I mean he was just a kid, barely 14 at the time. The next day, he comes in and acts like nothing happened...but I could tell something between us was different. He's been through a lot over the years, but especially recently, and so I guess I've become kind of protective of him."

"You're a good friend," I offered Evie a genuine smile.

Evie shrugged. "This is all against my will, of course. I still hate him for stealing first cello chair from me."

In high school girl world, the thing Evie said about being protective could have been perceived as a threat - a real stereotypical girlfriend versus girlfriend battle (not that I was his girlfriend, my goodness). But not here. Evie really just wanted me to know things, as much as I wanted to know myself. So I felt like it was in my best interest to be honest with her too.

"I googled him," I blurted out. "I mean, I googled his real name."

"I knew you'd figure it out eventually," Evie chuckled. "Well, if you couldn't tell, Devon hates being associated with his family's name. McCall is his mother's maiden name."

"It sounds like something pretty bad happened," I said as I dropped my gaze into the sand. It was almost sad to think about, because whatever had happened had turned him into this thing he was now, at times unrecognizable even to Evie.

Evie pinched her lips together in a thin line, casting her gaze back out towards the boys, who'd taken to tossing stones into the water. "Well, that story isn't mine to tell. I know Devon can be frustrating to get through to. Even now sometimes I still wanna wring his neck. But...if you want to get to know him, and I mean really know him, you can just ask him."

A smile lifted the corners of Evie's lips ever so slightly, and the sight of it made my heart skip.

"Am I that obvious?" I tucked my knees into my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs.

Evie shook her head. "I'm very perceptive. Also, boys are dumb. Case in point."

She gestured to the boys, chasing each other around again. Gareth tripped and went face first into the sand, and the other two stumbled around, cackling. Devon's laughter was so clear, I could have picked it out of a screaming crowd if I needed to.

I decided cannibalism wasn't a metaphor at all. How could it be? I was going to be assuredly devoured by whatever I felt for Devon McCall, and that was all there was to it.

When we all got back to the bus, I almost immediately lurched for my phone in hopes of turning it on to at least a few notifications. Despite what Devon believed, there wasn't anything wrong with appearing curated and aesthetic and deriving validation for it on social media. At least that's what I told myself.

As soon as I turned it on, it began pining. And ringing. And dinging. Incessantly.

"Oh my god," Devon groaned. "Control the annoying sounds in enclosed spaces, please."

"Sorry, sorry," I mumbled, half-distracted by all the annoying sounds.

I flipped the sound off, but it kept buzzing with notifications. I finally understood what it meant to have your phone blowing up, because the way it vibrated in my hand made it literally feel like a bomb about to go off.

They were mostly almost all Instagram notifications, but I had a few texts from Lyanna.

LYANNA MARKS (10:58 AM): pls tell me the no scrubs song was your idea

LYANNA MARKS (12:12 PM): GIRL. HELLO. CHECK INSTAGRAM

LYANNA MARKS (12:20 PM): WHERE ARE YOU?? YOUR VIDEO IS BLOWING THE EFF UP

I scrambled through the constant stream of notifications to open Instagram, where sure enough, there were 20,000 notifications waiting for me on The Green Inferno's page. And it was only 20,000 because that's where Instagram stopped counting them. Overnight, the No Scrubs video had racked up over 60,000 views, 16,000 shares, and the band suddenly had 30,000 followers, with a litany of DMs asking for more. Holy shit.

⋆ ★

i'm sorry for being a tease with that little dream sequence, but they deserved a little something sexy after all the tension i've put them through - even if it was just an unhinged fever dream that sort of turned into a nightmare 😅 i think it says enough about how sienna feels about her conflicting feelings towards a certain tattooed metal band singer

ALSO MORE LORE. WE LOVE THE LORE! DEVON CHAPTER NEXT WHO'S HYPED?