Chapter 26 Green Blouse
On stage, under a spotlight that made his eyes look like burning coal, stood Niko. He tilted his glasses down the bridge of his nose as he stared at me.
Weren't his eyes blue? I questioned myself. Anyway, he looked glorious, dripping in sweat with his black leather pants straining against his crotch, every muscle defined. He dropped to one knee at the edge of the stage, ignoring the roar of the thousands, his gaze locked directly on me. He reached out a hand, extending it into the void above the security barricade.
"Take my hand, green blouse."
The crowd began to shout.
"Go!"
"What are you waiting for, sweetheart!"
"I'll go if she doesn't want to."
"I can't," I said.
The arena erupted with boos and chants.
"I think she's shy, everyone. Let's give green blouse some encouragement," he roared.
"GREEN BLOUSE! GREEN BLOUSE! GREEN BLOUSE!" the crowd chanted.
I nearly died on the spot.
Suddenly Alecia grabbed my shoulders and screamed directly into my ear like a deranged banshee.
"GIRL, HE'S TALKING ABOUT YOU! YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE IN GREEN!"
I winced.
She was shaking me so hard my vision wobbled. "SHELBY! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! THAT HOT PIECE OF MAN WANTS YOU ON THAT STAGE!"
I blinked at her, still stunned. "No. No, no—I don't want to. Maybe there's another girl in green—"
"WHERE?" Alecia shrieked, spinning in a full circle with her hands cupped around her mouth like she was calling for lost cattle. "WHERE, SHELBY? WHERE IS SHE? BECAUSE ALL I SEE IS YOU, BABY!"
Meanwhile Lala was crying again, but this time it was because she was overwhelmed. "Oh my God, he's gonna choose our Shelby... I'm not emotionally prepared for this."
I turned toward the stage and instantly regretted it.
Niko's grin was criminal. His sunglasses did nothing to hide the fact that his eyes were devouring my soul.
"Come on, Wildfire!" he said into the microphone, making the crowd scream like they'd been tased. "Don't leave me hanging! I swear to the devil and back, I will not perform my last song if you don't get your beautiful, sinning self up here!"
The noise level spiked. The entire VVIP section turned to stare at me.
Lala, still clutching her chest, gave me a frantic shove. "Go, Shel! Go!"
Security suddenly appeared beside me, and before I could even say "help," they hoisted me up like I was a rag doll being delivered to a demon king.
The crowd clapped and whooped as I was carried past them, and when I looked down, I saw Vicky's face turning a shade of cherry red.
She looked like she wanted to strangle me with her bare hands.
Good.
I deserved one win tonight.
When the security set me on the stage, Niko reached for my hand immediately. He lifted it to his lips and kissed it slowly, like we were stepping into a ballroom instead of a rock concert designed to give people seizures.
I forgot how to inhale.
"Hello, beautiful," he smirked, his breath hot, smelling faintly of sweat and mic foam. He looked out at the sea of faces, then brought the mic stand close to my mouth. "Now, tell the thousands of screaming heathens your name."
My nerves were shot, my voice barely a thread. "Sh-Shelby."
"Well, Shelby," he announced, the name echoing in the speakers like a challenge, "tell the stadium one more thing: Do you have a boyfriend?"
"No!" I yelled back, the word ringing with definitive relief.
"Good," he purred, a predatory grin spreading across his face. "Because I'm going to sing the dirtiest, most soulful song ever written, and I'm dedicating every single nasty word of it to you. Now listen!"
He backed up slowly, his gaze never leaving me.
"HIT IT, RIP!" he yelled.
Ripley instantly kicked into a slow, sensual, heavy beat on the drums, setting a dark, smoky tone. Lorenzo's voice came over the mic, humming a smooth, ethereal melody that draped over the heavy beat like silk. Ryder began to strum his guitar, slow, thick chords that sounded like lust made audible.
Niko looked directly into my eyes, and he sang. The song was a slow, agonizingly sensual rock and roll fantasy, speaking in explicit detail about all the wicked, wild, and incredibly nasty things he was going to do to me when we were alone.
He used the mic stand like a weapon, punctuating every suggestive phrase. The entire stadium was screaming, but all I could hear was his voice and the frantic, chaotic pounding of my own heart.
Then the last verse hit. The tempo exploded. The song shifted into a full, screaming classic rock anthem, lights flashing, drums crashing, a surge of pure, raw energy. As Niko sang his final line, a guttural promise of total, blissful domination, he moved on instinct. He grabbed me by the back of the neck, pulling me forward with undeniable force, and kissed me.
My thighs pressed together involuntarily.
The crowd detonated.
Screaming. Crying. Fainting. Chaos.
It wasn't a sweet, slow kiss. It was deep, possessive, and electric, a shocking physical statement delivered right there in front of a quarter of a million screaming witnesses. He tasted like mint, adrenaline, and divine sin.
He pulled away and smiled at me. "I told you the lead singer's favorite color is green."