Nola

Tonight should have been a dream come true.

Incarcerated, one of my favourite bands, were playing at the Diamond Theatre, a small venue not far from Drury Lane, and I'd managed to wriggle my way to the front. The band was almost within touching distance, separated from the crowd by a couple of feet of security fencing and burly bouncers.

Despite being one of the biggest rock-bands in the world, Incarcerated regularly played at smaller, cheaper venues, more accessible to the people who couldn't afford the higher prices of the big arenas. It was another reason I loved them.

I'd dreamed of this for months, but now that I was here, I couldn't shake the off the sharp spike of anxiety between my shoulder-blades. I couldn't stop scanning the crowd for his face. His ticket was crumpled in my pocket, but what if he'd still found a way to come here tonight?

Maybe, even though I didn't want to admit it, the tension I was feeling wasn't just about my ex-boyfriend.

For years, Darius Keller, Incarcerated's frontman, had been my hottest fantasy, and now my former best friend Tasha was engaged to Finn Donovan, a close friend of Darius's. Tasha's sister, Camden, was married to Jude Scott, the frontman of Angels & Demons, with their first baby on the way. Being at this gig was like getting a glimpse of the world I could have been a part of, a stark reminder of everything I'd given up to be with Mike.

And where had that got me?

The fangirl shrieking around me reached fever pitch, and my stomach swooped as I realised Darius Keller was right in front of me. The most beautiful man in the world stood on that stage, just feet away, his strong hands gripping the microphone, sweat gleaming on his bare, tan chest, his long hair flung back as he sang.

Some bands didn't sound nearly as good live as they did in the studio, but Incarcerated wasn't one of them.

Darius's smoky, raw voice filled the room, not missing a single note even when he was sprinting up and down the stage. Whether he was belting out hits to tens of thousands of fans in some of the world's largest, most famous stadiums, or performing to a few hundred at a tiny venue like this, he still gave it his all. Natural born showman.

I looked up at him, and his eyes met mine, dark behind a thick fringe of lashes and smoky black eyeliner, and for just a moment all my fear and doubt and confusion and regret faded. My mind blanked out, getting lost in the music, letting it carry me away from reality.

The moment didn't last.

Darius looked away from me, his dark stare roving over the crowd, then he whipped around, his hair flying around his shoulders, and jogged back along the stage, and though it didn't seem as though he was looking where he was going, and the stage was very small, he deftly avoided colliding with any of his bandmates.

Even though he wasn't looking at me anymore, I clung to that feeling. I wasn't ready to go back to reality yet.

But all too soon, it was over. The last encore faded away, the lights came up, and reality rushed back in whether I liked it or not, bringing with it a sick sense of panic.

My feet moved on autopilot, heading towards the exit with everyone else, but once I was out of the theatre, I'd have to face the impact of the decision I'd made today. I had no money, no one to turn to, nothing to my name but the small bundle of clothes and toiletries in my rucksack, and absolutely nowhere to spend the night.

Tears stung my eyes.

I couldn't go back to Mike. I'd never get out again.

And then, if he'd known I was thinking about him, he was there, standing on the street outside, scanning the crowd with an ugly look on his face. No. No. I shouldn't have come here. I should have known he'd guess that this was where I'd gone, and now I'd not only walked out on him, I'd cost him the gig he'd been looking forward to for months.

I needed to lose myself in the crowd. Maybe then I could –

Mike's eyes locked on mine, and his mouth twisted in a snarl.

I froze, people knocking into me as they passed. What was I supposed to do – scream? Mike hadn't done anything. Even if I screamed and people tried to help me, what could I say to them? That I was terrified that if Mike caught up with me, he'd talk me into staying with him, like he'd done in the past? That I was so weak I couldn't say no to him?

No one would understand.

My only choice was to run.

Again.

I shoved through the crowd, ignoring the angry shouts that followed me, and raced around the side of the theatre until I found a narrow strip of darkened alley running alongside the Diamond and whatever building stood next to it. I glanced back, saw Mike pushing through the crowd after me, and fled down the alley.

Puddles splashed my feet and splattered my jeans, and there was a painful knot in my throat. I couldn't go back to him. He'd already taken too much from me.

A chain-link fence appeared on my left, encircling a small parking lot at the back of the theatre, and my feet skidded to a halt. There was a gap in that fence. I could fit through it. Mike couldn't.

Before I could second-guess myself, I shoved my rucksack through the gap, then squeezed after it, wincing as sharp ends of wire snagged my clothes and skin.

Ducking behind the nearest vehicle, I sank into a crouch and held my breath. Mike appeared moments later, and paused, looking around.

I stuffed my fist into my mouth. Even if Mike could see the gap in the fence, he couldn't fit through. Right? But could he climb over? I wanted to shuffle back, to sink further into the shadow of whatever I was hiding behind – a bus? a truck? – but I didn't dare move.

Mike looked around again, breathing heavily, then he jogged past the fence, disappearing from view. I waited another minute in my crouch, even though my legs were starting to burn, then I slowly straightened up.

I'd wait here a bit longer, and make sure he really had gone, and then I'd slip back through that fence and work out where to go next. I couldn't spend the night in a concrete lot, hiding in the shadow of –

I looked up and the breath rushed out of my lungs. "Oh, fuck me," I whispered.

It was a bus I was hiding beside, but not just any bus. I'd recognise that sleek black exterior, patterned with grey bars, anywhere. This was Incarcerated's tour bus.

I really couldn't be here.

A door opened somewhere, and I spun around, my heart leaping into my throat. Giggling female voices filled the air, drawing nearer, and when I ventured further along the side of the bus, I spotted a gaggle of girls strutting across the parking lot, having emerged from the back of the theatre. A man was with them, dressed in black, his expression caught between eagerness and unease.

"Just a quick look," he said, pulling something from his pocket – the keys, I realised.

Oh crap, this guy was the bus driver, and the girls were probably groupies that he was bringing out here for the band. I scuttled backwards, around the front of the bus, where I ducked down again.

The clack of high heels came to a stop, and I heard the faint click of a lock turning, then a door opening.

"You can't tell anyone I let you on," the driver warned, and one of the girls let out a sugary giggle.

"Don't worry, honey, your secret's safe with us," she said.

"Nola!"

I jumped at the sound of Mike's voice, my stomach almost dropping out. Fuck, fuck, he was coming back, and he sounded pissed as hell. There was a streetlight on this side of the bus, leaving me no shadows to hide in – if he came back this way he'd see me.

"Where the hell are you?" he roared, and his voice was definitely closer.

He was going to find me. He'd find me, I'd end up going home with him, and I'd spend the rest of my life cowering in his shadow, letting him chip away more and more pieces of myself. A couple of tears spilled over.

"Shit, someone's coming," the driver said.

"Aww, that's okay," one of the girls cooed.

"No, this is a mistake," he said.

"The hell it is," said another girl, her voice sharp. "You said you'd let us on the bus. You can't change your mind now, not after I already sucked your dick."

I winced. At least I knew how they'd got out here.

I heard a scuffle, and more high heels clacking on the ground, then Mike shouted my name again. Any second now he'd appear around that corner and see me. I had to move.

The girls and the driver were still arguing, but their voices sounded further away, and when I peeked under the bus, I spotted the cluster of high heels. They were almost at the back of the bus, being herded away by the driver, and maybe they'd see me if I slipped back into the shadows on that side of the bus, but it was a chance I'd have to take.

I darted around the bumper.

Then I stopped.

The door was still open.

The driver was still hustling the girls back in the direction they'd come, away from the bus and towards the back of the theatre, but he'd left the door open, and it was completely crazy, I knew that, but my feet didn't seem to get the memo because the next thing I knew they were slipping up the steps and into the bus.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, what was I doing? I was on Incarcerated's fucking tour bus. This was so much more than a mistake. Didn't people get arrested for shit like this?

My nerve failed. I had to get off.

I turned back to the door, and my heart almost leaped out of my chest as I spotted someone else climbing the steps. I'd thought the driver would keep chivvying the groupies out of the parking lot, and I had no idea where they were now, but the driver was getting on the fucking bus, and I had no idea what to do.

He locked the door, his back to me, and muttered something about fucking bimbos under his breath. I moved slowly backwards, my feet making no noise on the floor, passing built-in tables and chairs, and what looked like a small kitchen area, slinking further into the darkened depths of the bus.

The sensible part of my brain was screaming at me – if I'd been scared to be caught outside the bus, what the hell did I think would happen if I was found inside it? Was there somewhere I could hide? Where was the band going next? Was there any chance that I could slip away at their next stop, and no one would know I'd been here?

A black curtain formed a partition at the back of the bus, and I slipped through it. Bad idea. On either side of me were beds built into the walls, three bunks on either side, each one sectioned off with a smaller curtain for privacy.

This was too much. The band slept here – this was their personal, private space, and I absolutely could not be here. I needed to come clean to the driver, and hope that I could run before he told anyone else.

While I dithered, trying to decide what to say, I heard the theatre door swinging open again. All the windows were curtained; I didn't dare peek out, but I already knew what was coming. The sound of multiple pairs of booted feet heading this way, the buzz of male voices – that was the band. I'd imagined Incarcerated having afterparties or orgies after a show, not immediately coming out to their bus.

Fuck, what was I supposed to do?

"NOLA!"

I jumped again, my hand flying up to cover my mouth. Mike was still out there, and I'd never heard him sound so angry.

The bus rocked slightly as the band clambered aboard. I'd lost my chance. I was trapped.

Someone was heading down the aisle in the middle of the bus, towards the sleeping quarters where I stood, and I crumpled to the floor, clutching my rucksack to my chest.

The curtain parted, and then Darius Keller was there, all leather pants and long hair and male beauty, and I opened my mouth but all that came out was a whimper.

Darius's kohl-lined eyes widened when he saw me, then quickly narrowed. "What the fuck?" he said. "Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing here?"

I couldn't speak. Darius took a step forward and I flinched. He paused, something strange sliding over his face.

Outside, Mike shouted my name again, and I jumped again, because I couldn't help it; my nerves were stretched so tight they were about to snap, and I had no idea what to do or say.

"Where the fuck are you?" Mike screamed.

I looked up at Darius, tears slipping down my cheeks. "Please," I whispered, though I didn't even know what I was asking.

Darius's eyes slid to the window, though he couldn't see out, then he looked back at me.

"Let's move out," he called over his shoulder.

The engine rumbled to life, and a few moments later we were driving away, leaving Mike behind.