Ray.

A year and a half ago.

~~~

Adrenaline still buzzed through my veins as I climbed off the stage, the crowd's cheers ringing in my ears like an echo I didn't want to let go of. Normally, I'd jump in to help with the equipment—couldn't stand just moping around—but Andrew had made it clear that as the band's frontman, I wasn't supposed to be visible after the show. Apparently, that was one of those unspoken rules I still had to get used to.

This wasn't some local gig. The massive crowd, the big-name artists we were sharing the stage with—it was all new to me. So, for once, I followed Andrew's lead and headed straight for the dressing rooms after the final notes of Purple Rain echoed into the night.

Backstage was chaotic, a whirl of people moving in every direction, their chatter blending with the faint bassline still thudding through the venue. I offered polite nods and quick smiles as I passed crew members and organizers, but my mind was already elsewhere. When I reached the dressing room, I hesitated before pushing the door open. The space felt oddly bright, the fluorescent lights glaring down as if someone had left them on by mistake.

Then I heard it—a soft tapping sound, rhythmic and deliberate. My gaze shifted toward the green glass partition that sectioned off part of the room, and there she was.

Courtney sat on the black leather couch, her long legs crossed elegantly, her blonde hair falling like a curtain over her face as she scrolled through her phone. The overhead lights cast a golden glow over her, making her shimmer like some untouchable idol.

"Hey," I said, my voice rasping from the performance. I stepped closer, motioning vaguely toward the door. "How'd you get here faster than me?"

Courtney didn't look up at first, her fingers still moving over the screen. When she finally did, a bright smile curved her lips, and she uncrossed her legs with a languid grace that made my chest tighten. "I didn't stay for the whole show," she said casually, her attention already drifting back to her phone.

Her words hit me harder than I expected. I'd been scanning the VIP balcony for her all night, imagining her smiling, swaying to the music in that way that always drove me crazy. I thought she'd stayed to the end, soaking it all in, but instead, she'd left early.

Before I could fully process the disappointment, she exclaimed, "You gained seven hundred followers in the last hour!"

"What?" I asked, furrowing my brows in confusion.

"On Instagram," she said, rolling her eyes slightly as if it were obvious.

I wasn't asking about the followers. My mind was stuck on the fact that she'd left. I'd talked about this show for weeks, and told her how much it meant to me and the band. This was our biggest crowd yet, a milestone in our career. And she couldn't even stay till the end?

"That's great," I said, my tone flat despite my best efforts.

"Yes, baby," she replied, her smile brightening as she tossed her phone onto the glass coffee table with a soft clink. "You're going to be famous in no time."

She stood and stretched out her arms toward me, her lavender perfume enveloping me as her body pressed against mine. Her fingers, cold against the nape of my neck, sent a shiver down my spine. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her closer, but just as I leaned in for a kiss, she drew back.

"You're so sweaty, baby," she teased, wrinkling her nose. "Go clean up. We need to be ready in less than an hour."

"Ready for what?" I asked, scratching the back of my neck as the absence of her touch left a strange void.

"The girls are waiting at the lounge," she said, her phone already back in her hand. She held it up, showing me a group chat filled with colorful emojis and texts from her friends.

"Court, I thought we'd just hang out here. You know, with the guys, celebrate together."

"They can come too," she said, not looking up. "I didn't say they couldn't. But Chloe got us a table, and they're waiting. She's coming too."

"Figures," I muttered. "Where is she?"

"Probably still on the balcony," she said dismissively, scrolling again. "Go clean up," she repeated, not even glancing in my direction.

I let out a soft, nervous laugh, nodding as I gave in. She had a way of getting what she wanted, and tonight wasn't the night to fight. Not when I was supposed to be celebrating.

The shower was a welcome escape, the hot water washing away the sweat and tension from the performance. But as I stood there, letting the steam cloud around me, I couldn't shake the heaviness in my chest. Courtney didn't seem to understand how much this night meant to me, or maybe she just didn't care.

When I stepped out, the sound of muffled voices filtered through the door. The guys must've finished clearing the stage and made it back. I ran a towel through my hair, threw on some casual clothes, and gathered my things.

I felt drained, both physically and emotionally. A dance club was the last place I wanted to be, but I knew better than to argue. Courtney always got her way, and I didn't have the energy to push back tonight.

It was hard to admit, even to myself, how much I despised Courtney's laughter. It was too perfect—always well-timed, carefully calibrated, and just fake enough to make me doubt she'd ever genuinely laughed at anything in her life. But damn, she was beautiful. And when it came to the bedroom, we got along better than anywhere else. Her hips moved like magic, and I learned early on not to question where she'd perfected her moves. Some things were better left unasked.

The walls vibrated faintly from the music on stage as I made my way back into the dressing room's common area. The melody was muffled, but I could just about make out the lyrics. My mood shifted the moment I stepped inside.

James was sprawled on the leather couch between Chloe and Courtney, his back pressed against the cushions, laughing louder than the song bleeding through the walls. But it wasn't his laughter that hit me—it was the glass table in front of him.

A faint smear stained its surface, and a line of white powder lay stark and accusing. Chloe was draped across James's side, her fingers idly stroking his knee as she whispered something. Courtney was off to the side, completely checked out, her eyes glued to her phone.

"What the fuck?" I snapped, rushing to the table before I could stop myself.

James shot to his feet, both hands raised defensively. "I didn't touch it, man. I swear."

I scanned his face, my heart hammering in my chest. He didn't look high—his pupils were normal, his movements steady. But the coke wasn't far from where he'd been sitting, and the smudges on the table told their own story.

Chloe smirked and leaned back on the couch, making no effort to defend herself. My gaze flicked to Courtney. She was staring at me now, her dark eyes wide, the usual flecks of green swallowed by the dim light. She stood slowly, like she wasn't sure how to explain herself.

"You let them snort coke?" My voice came out sharper, my attention snapping back to James.

"They brought it," James said quickly, gesturing toward Chloe. "I told them I wasn't going down that road again, Ray. I didn't touch it."

"Relax, okay?" Courtney stepped toward me, her voice low and coaxing. "You said you wanted to celebrate, right?" She reached up, brushing her fingers against my cheek.

I shoved her hand away. "Why the fuck are you snorting coke?" I demanded, my breathing uneven.

"It's just a one-time thing," she said, her tone dripping with contrition as she tried to reach for me again. I stepped back.

My eyes darted around the room. "Where are Logan and Andrew?" I asked James, trying to focus on anything other than Courtney's pleading expression.

"Logan's in the shower. Andrew went to talk to management. He should be back soon," James replied, his voice calm despite Chloe's hand now trailing along his neck.

I pointed at the table, ignoring Courtney entirely. "Clean this shit up," I said, my voice hard. James glanced at Chloe, who just smirked again and shrugged. "Now!" I barked, the sound ricocheting off the walls. The room went still. Even Chloe flinched.

James nodded reluctantly, reaching for the table, and I turned on my heel. "I'll find Andrew. We're getting the fuck out of here," I muttered, storming toward the door.

"Ray, wait!" Courtney's voice called after me, her uneven steps clicking loudly against the tile as she struggled to keep up in her heels.

I spun around, my frustration boiling over. "What?"

"Don't you think you're being unfair?" she said, catching her breath.

"Unfair?" My voice was incredulous, my fists clenching at my sides.

"James didn't do it, yet," she said quickly. "Chloe was trying to talk him into it, but he didn't. You're overreacting."

"He's a recovering addict, Courtney!" My voice was rising again. "What's the one fucking rule we all agreed on?"

Her eyes dropped to the floor. "No drugs," she murmured.

"Exactly. So no, I'm not overreacting. And you—" I pointed at her, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and disbelief. "You snorted coke for fun? Knowing how much I hate drugs?"

"Oh, come on," she said, stepping closer, her hands pressing lightly against my chest. "It's not a big deal, baby. We just wanted to celebrate your big night."

Her fingers trailed up my neck, her touch icy against my skin. I shivered despite myself. "Don't," I said, trying to move away, but she pulled me closer, her body pressing firmly against mine.

"It won't happen again," she whispered, leaning in to kiss me. Her lips brushed against mine, soft and deliberate. I didn't respond at first, but she didn't back off. When her tongue flicked across my lips, I caved.

Before I knew it, my back was against the cold wall between two metal cases. My hands found her hips, then slid upward to her waist, feeling the warmth of her skin under her shirt. She moaned softly, her nails grazing the nape of my neck, sending a jolt through me.

"Get a room," Andrew's voice interrupted, his amused chuckle cutting through the haze. He walked past us, heading back to the dressing room.

Courtney giggled, kissing me one more time before taking my hand. "Come on, baby. Let's have some fun tonight," she said, tugging me toward the dressing room.

I followed, my chest heavy with a guilt I couldn't explain. Even as every instinct told me to walk away, I knew I wouldn't. I would follow her anywhere, even if it meant losing myself along the way.