Seduction by Song (2 page)

The stadium is already packed by the time we get there. Juliet insists that we go ahead while she finds a parking space. It takes some pushing through the people loitering around in the aisles, spilling their warm beers and laughing too loudly, to get to our seats in the front, but it’s all worth it to hear the girls’ happy screams when we get close enough just in time to see one of the band members (I think his name is Vince) passing by on stage while the roadies set up their equipment.

Juliet finds us a while later and immediately joins in on the excitement. I try to get just as pumped as they do, but there’s this huge floodlight shining right in my eye and the guy, apparently there with his girlfriend, next to me won’t stop bitching about what a huge sausagefest this band is. (I guess I know who
won’t
be getting laid tonight.)

“You alright there, honey?” April asks me, leaning in close so she doesn’t have to shout.

I nod and do my best to smile. “Awesome, Pooh bear!”

She laughs at the pet name, but it’s drowned out by the roar of the crowds as the lights dim (
finally
, my eyes say as they rejoice in the dark). A chant spreads through the audience, calling for Romeo and the Rocks, until it dissolves into hoots and hollers as they finally appear.

I can only make out the shape of them on stage if I squint, but we’re not left waiting long. The intro to their first song begins to play and the lights come back on, now redirected towards the stage. Instead of a glaringly bright light shining in my eyes, I’m given one heck of a view.

“How’re we doing tonight, Miami!” the lead singer shouts out to the crowd as he begins to move with the music, long before his cue to start singing comes. He has a way of
gliding
across the stage, actively covering every inch of space available to him, that’s a true sign of a confident stage performer.

He definitely has an impressive stage presence, but a lot of that must have been smoke and mirrors—literally! Through the lights flashing on and off all around him, some fog starts to roll over the stage across his feet. He’s decked out in heavy eyeliner and all black, except for the shimmer of silver that must have been caused by a
very
healthy helping of glitter.

It’s all so tacky that I nearly cringe, though I couldn’t help but be a bit amused as well. That’s show business for you, I guess.

At least he has a nice smile, if you ignored the fact that his teeth were so white that it
must
have been an artificial white.

The girls seem to be into it, though, screaming and swooning next to me as they raise their arms and clap for him. A steady rhythm matching the beat of the song starts to spread like wildfire, and I catch on to the beat, clapping along.

“I’m Romeo Ortiz,” the dark-eyed, dark-haired man with the admittedly beautiful olive skin that just glistens under the spotlight croons into the microphone, “and these are the Rocks—and tonight, Miami, we are going to rock your world!”

The screams get impossibly louder.
I add my voice to it in a cheer, but I can’t muster up as much excitement as the rest of the crowd. The noise was becoming deafening, and the concert hadn’t even started properly yet. The girls had all told me that seeing the band live would be nothing like hearing them on the radio—and they were
so
right. I wouldn’t say this was
better
, though.

I had never been great in large crowds. I found the heat of so many bodies around me to be aggravating at best, suffocating at worst. The sound just kept building until I felt a headache threatening to come over me. The music’s as catchy as ever, but I think I would have been content listening in my car where I could turn the volume knob down a bit.

Well, no point being a total Debbie Downer about it now. The show was underway.

The next time Romeo opens his mouth, just as the intro crescendos into his cue to begin, it’s to sing—and for a second, I totally get how he can seduce women by the thousands with that liquid voice of his.

Every song he sings just seems to make the crowd want more. I might not want to get into his pants like all these other girls, but I did have to admit that
he had a damn good voice. I knew that much from hearing his songs played over the radio, but seeing him and hearing him in person
was
a pretty radically different experience. The energy of the crowd surged against my back, but I must have been getting used to the noise and the waves of motion since my impending headache was receding. The concert stretches on for what feels like dozens of songs, but I suppose it must not have lasted for more than two hours. The fast-paced rhythm of the night made time fly by, and I found myself starting to enjoy the music more and more as I let my friends’ jubilation wash over me and pull me along into their energetic celebration.

Again, I found myself thinking that I could totally see the appeal—I really could. Maybe it still wasn’t for me, but I could truly enjoy the night.

Unfortunately, someone didn’t seem to get the memo.

The song changes into something slower, pulling me out of my thoughts. I fumble to pull my cell phone out of my purse when I notice the girls holding theirs up, using the glow of their screens as lights to wave back and forth to the smooth flow of the music. After I look around myself to make sure I haven’t missed the beat everyone else seems to have picked up, I turn back to the stage and find myself locking eyes with those deep-brown pools of mischief and confidence.

Romeo Ortiz looks straight at me, almost like he’s getting ready to sing to me. Tension coils at the pit of my stomach—oh
God
, no. He couldn’t possibly be choosing me for that rumored ritual or whatever. This would just be thoroughly embarrassing for the both of us. After all, I didn’t even really know the words to his songs. I shake my head, trying to send the message of
no
, and even look to my side to try and suggest Maddie as a much better candidate instead.

“For this next song, I—.” He has to stop, then, interrupted by the shrieking crowd that seems to know exactly what he’s going to say. He gives them all an impish grin and waves a hand, quieting them. “Well, I guess you all know the drill!”

The crowd roars once more as his band mates loop the intro to the song, keeping the music going as Romeo speaks.

“Then I won’t keep you waiting,
ladies
.” He stops again, but not because of the crowd this time. The crowd has, in fact, gone deathly silent except for a few bursts of murmurs shooting through the stadium like waves. Everyone holds their breath and I try to avert my gaze, looking anywhere but the stage, as I feel Romeo locking his eyes onto me again.

The girls scream next to me and push me forward a bit, making it so that I
have
to look up. Just as I feared, Romeo was holding a hand out to me—Christ, couldn’t this guy take a hint?

“
It’s your lucky night. Come on up, sweetheart.”

My face flushes red and he smirks as though he thinks I’m flustered, when in reality the heat in my cheeks was a combination of annoyance and impending embarrassment. I had planned on pushing Maddie forward and insisting that she take my place—the crowd would never know the difference, anyway—but his cocky little smirk feels almost like a challenge, making me want to prove that flustered is the
last
thing I am.

Before I think twice, I allow myself to be led up on stage. A hot spotlight burns my skin as it follows me across the stage until the security guard leading me up stops me on my mark.

I’d heard about this traditional before, of course, both in articles about the Rocks and from Maddie and the girls. At the end of each show, Romeo would perform a beautiful love song with a woman of his choosing on stage with him. He would serenade her with his dulcet tones, sometimes going down on one knee, and give her a night she will truly remember for the rest of her life. The girls all spoke of their dreams of being that girl, but I never imagined it would ever be
me
—never really wanted it to be me, either.

I’m snapped out of my thoughts when Romeo speaks again.

“What is your name, beautiful eyes?”

I take a small step back away from the X on the floor, marked with two strips of electrical tape, when I realize Romeo is looming over me and standing
much
closer than I’d like for comfort. That smirk is still on his lips, like he’s expecting me to swoon.
Ugh
.

Sure, he was an attractive guy—objectively speaking—but did he
really
think that was all it took to make any girl melt into him?
Double
ugh.

I sigh when I realize he’s actually waiting for an answer, stalling the whole concert. Unwilling to be
that
person who disrupts a whole show, I let him hold a microphone out to me and answer him, “Erin.”

A cheer goes out through the crowd as Romeo flashing me a smile as he brings the mic back to himself to begin singing.
He takes another step towards me as he reaches the first chorus and has the gall to look amused when I take a step back, determined to keep my personal space completely
personal
.

He
seems just as determined to invade that space, though, and I nearly jump out of my skin in surprise when he brings a hand up, sliding the backs of his fingers down my cheek in an affectionate motion. Does he just touch anyone he
wants
?

I hear the crowd roaring again, a dull sound in the backs of my ears, and I try to relax. I suppose it makes sense—I doubt that anyone could be so rude as to touch someone who clearly didn’t want to be touched. He probably chose me just because I happened to be sitting in the seat that was closest to the stage, and he was probably only behaving so inappropriately to please his fans—had to maintain that stage presence, after all.

And while this didn’t really
excuse
that behavior, I wasn’t about to ruin the show
now
when it was almost over. Forcing myself to relax a bit more, I let him take my hand and link our fingers together as he sings. He squeezes my hand reassuringly as he goes into a chorus a second time. The crowd is loving it and, thinking of all this as an act, it’s a bit easier for me to return Romeo’s smile.

Romeo pulls me back with him a few times to center us on stage again as his band goes into the instrumental solo of the song. I allow him to pull me towards him, his hold on me firm, but not painful. The performance must seem very touching and romantic from a distance, down there in the crowd, and I guess I couldn’t blame Romeo for wanting to give his fans the show they wanted to see. My previous bout of annoyance at him was probably just an overreaction, all my nerves exacerbated by the bright lights and loud noises surrounding me this entire night.

I’m startled out of my thoughts once more when Romeo steps forward, suddenly, and leans in so close that we’re breathing the same air. He holds the microphone up between us, gesturing for me to sing along as the chorus comes around for a third time.

Oh, God
, I think, barely resisting the urge to roll my eyes.
Here comes the most embarrassing moment of both our lives
.

I didn’t know the lyrics, after all, and this would just look
silly
.

Surprisingly, when Romeo begins to sing, a few of the words do come to me. Perhaps I remembered them from the radio, or from hearing the chorus just moments ago. Whatever the reason, I’m grateful that they do come—I mean, how ridiculous would it have looked to have a front row ticket holder not know the words to one of the band’s most famous songs?