It was difficult. The concert venues blurred into each other, one looking the same as all the rest. Frustration became a constant companion. It was hard to take interesting and unique pictures when the backdrop looked the same wherever we went.

Getting a peek behind the scenes sounded cool until you realized every backstage looked the same: bare hallways, a few offices, and a couple rooms with comfy chairs and sofas for the artists to relax in. It wasn't the most exciting thing in the world. I mostly stuck to taking pictures of the guys.

Rehearsal was done, and the concert wasn't for another few hours, so I took a bit of a break. One of the make-up girls and I had become friendly acquaintances, and she always had recommendations for me. She was giving me her opinion on which new brand of mascara I should try when that jerk walked toward me, the assistant producer who'd scowled at me to get out of his way without so much as a please or thank you.

"Hey Gabriella, is that guy really on the film crew?"

He still wasn't wearing a staff badge. For all I knew, he was the groupie sneaking in to see the band.

Gabriella raised her eyebrows. "Are you kidding me? You don't recognize him?"

"I ran into him on my first day, but he was kind of an asshole. Why, who is he?"

"That's Cornelius Conner. He's one of the best up-and-coming producers. Feral Silence is lucky they snagged him. After this, he'll probably be promoted from assistant to full producer."

"I had no idea. Is he known for being grumpy?"

"I wouldn't say he's grumpy. He's known for being a perfectionist. If you're an asset to his work, you'll stay on his good side. If you're a hindrance, look out. And never," she whispered as he came within hearing range, "call him by his first name. Use Connor."

"Excuse me," he said, coming up to the two of us, hands in his pocket. "Do you mind if I talk with your friend alone?"

"Sure, go ahead. I was just leaving." Gabriella mouthed good luck as she walked away.

"Yes? Can I help you?" I used the same words I had on the first day we met.

"I wanted to apologize." His blue eyes were earnest and his messy brown hair made him look tousled and unkempt. I was a bit taken aback, not expecting to hear an apology from him.

"For?" Maybe it was petty of me, but I wanted to hear him say it.

"For being a jerk. When I got mad at you for stepping in front of my camera."

"You called me a groupie." I crossed my arms over my chest. "Even though I was the one wearing the staff badge, not you."

He looked genuinely remorseful. "I'm sorry. I was just under a lot of pressure. I only had a few minutes to shoot the scene I needed."

I didn't want to leave him squirming for too long, so I uncrossed my arms and let them dangle at my sides. "Okay. Apology accepted. Although you're going to get a bad reputation if you snap at people whenever you're stressed."

"I'm working on it."

"At least you're aware of your character flaws."

He huffed out a rueful laugh. "I'm more than aware. One, I'm a perfectionist. Two, I don't know how to delegate." He ticked off each point with a finger. "Three, I always take on too much and end up overworked. Four-"

"There's such a thing as being too hard on yourself," I said, interrupting his monologue.

"I just want you to know that I'm aware I can be an asshole at times." He stuck his hands back in the pockets of his tan slacks. "So, what do you do here?"

I hadn't expected him to ask about my job, so I blurted out, "I'm the internet girl," before I could stop and think about how that sounded.

Instead of laughing at me, he looked intrigued. "And what's that, exactly?"

"I'm in charge of posting to the band's social media accounts. Updates, pictures, answering questions, that sort of thing. I'm the direct line of communication between the band and their fans."

"I know a girl who loves that stuff. She'd probably kill to have your job." His eyes lit up, and he pulled out his phone in excitement. "Hey, I know you don't owe me any favors, but I want to film a scene where the guys respond to weird fan things. Like this." He shoved his phone in my face. There was a screenshot of a fan sleeping with a body pillow. The pillowcase was printed with a picture of Kell's shirtless body. "There's so much junk on the internet, though, so I don't have time to pick out the good stuff. Maybe you can help me?"

"That sounds fun."

"Do you think you could gather together a bunch of outrageous stuff? We could show the guys and capture their reactions on camera."

"Kell and Ren would love that." I wasn't sure Jayce would, but no matter how he felt personally, I knew he'd pull off a typical rock star-Jayce attitude and egg the fans on to higher and crazier feats.

"Thanks. Sorry, I didn't even catch your name."

"I'm Aimee." If his friend was into the online music scene, she might have heard of Audio Ailey, and I'd prefer to keep my alter ego a secret as much as possible. Creepy stalkers could be hiding anywhere. "And you're Cor... Connor?" I caught myself in time. The corner of his lips twitched, and I knew he'd caught my slip up, but didn't say anything.

"Here's my card. Just shoot me an email when you've got the content ready and I'll squeeze it into the filming schedule. Thanks again, Aimee. I owe you one."

I took my phone out of my pocket and entered his email into my contacts. When he was gone, I messaged Neil.

@AudioAiley: I guess even assholes can grow a conscience.

It took a few minutes, but he eventually responded.

Was someone being an ass to you again?

Surprisingly, no. For once.

I knew they'd see how awesome you are.

My heart clenched. I thought Neil was awesome, too. I'd agreed to go on a date with him, after all. But I'd just been making out with Jayce. I liked both of them so much.

And I knew just how wrong it was to feel like that.

"KELL, WAS YOUR family into music when you were growing up?"

There were a handful of cameras surrounding the guys from every direction as they sat upright in their stiff chairs. They had been placed on the empty stage where they'd be playing that night. On today's filming schedule was a group interview. Deena and the film crew had worked together to come up with a list of questions. Some of them were the standard ones any musician might expect to answer during an interview, but they threw in a couple questions just for the guys. Deena read the answers off camera.

Kell was a bundle of energy as always, practically vibrating in his seat and throwing wicked grins to the camera every time he managed to slip a double entendre into his answer. His blue jeans weren't fashionably ripped for once. Instead, they were a dark, fitted denim. He paired them with a graphic tee designed with cartoon mice chasing cheese. It sounded cute, but the mice were on motorcycles with hard expressions. They looked as badass as any motorcycle club biker. I wondered just where in the hell he'd gotten something like that.

"Yeah, my family was very musical while I was growing up. One of my first memories is of my dad sitting down and teaching me how to play a G chord on my little plastic toy guitar. He used to play in a bluegrass band with his buddies. My mom was never a professional vocalist, but she was always singing something. They really encouraged me to go for my dreams."

I was impressed. The guys had clearly been given lessons on how to give on-camera interviews. They each made sure to repeat the question in their answer and add a personal touch with anecdotes. It shouldn't have surprised me how good they were at this kind of thing. Dark Sound Studios was putting a lot of money into Feral Silence. I had no doubt they had been media trained.

I sneaked a glance at Jayce. He was steadfastly avoiding my eyes. There was a palpable tension whenever the two of us looked at each other, so we mostly tried to avoid speaking to each other as much as possible. I wondered if the rest of the band thought we didn't get along. That couldn't be further from the truth. Kell gave us a few looks and I wondered if he'd noticed something going on with the two of us, but I didn't worry too much. Kell was usually too self-absorbed to notice much about the people around him.

"Ren, aside from the bass guitar, what other instruments do you play?"

Ren was dressed much more casually than usual. Considering he sometimes wore full three-piece suits on stage, casual didn't mean the same thing for him as it did for someone like Kell. Ren still wore a white collared shirt and exquisitely tailored black pants, but he'd ditched the jacket and skinny tie. His long black hair fell over one shoulder, glossy as ever. The harsh lighting set up for the film shoot would have made his angular face look austere and somber, but his easy smile softened his expression.

"I play a few different instruments, including piano and violin. My parents-" he paused for a moment, lips pressing together, then continued smoothly, "-my parents insisted I take classical music lessons growing up. I can also pound away on the drums a bit, but I'm no match for Morris."

"Is it true that the violin piece in Blue Storm is you?"

"Yeah, that was me playing the violin parts in Blue Storm. If you ever see me in concert, about halfway through the song I put down the bass and pull out my violin for a solo."

"Will we see more of your musical talents someday?"

"Someday I'd love to compose classical versions of Crossroads Rage or Out of the Darkness. Fans seem to love Jayce's acoustic versions. I'd like to find out if there's an audience for a piano remix."

"Morris, what advice would you give someone wanting to pursue a similar career path?"

Plain blue jeans and black or white tees were almost a uniform for Morris. I rarely saw him in anything else. I always wondered if he preferred t-shirts because they showed off his upper arm muscles so well. They were certainly something to be proud of.

"If someone wanted a career in music, I'd tell them it's tough. This life isn't easy. It's a one in a million shot. But if you work hard and you're determined, anything can happen."

Typical Morris. Short and to the point.

"Jayce, do you ever get nervous before a performance?"

I held my breath, wondering how he was going to answer. Would the question trigger his anxiety? He didn't have that sickly, pallid look to him. Instead, he was relaxed, confident, giving the camera that patented Jayce look, cocky and mesmerizing at the same time.

"Do I ever get nervous before a performance? I think it's only natural to get nervous before going out on stage, whether it's the first, tenth, or hundredth time. It's a good thing, I think. It means you're taking the show seriously." He wore his ever-present leather jacket and a white tee that molded to every delicious ab. I snapped picture after picture, trying not to focus too much on Jayce. "If you're nervous, it means you feel the pressure to put on the best show you can. You never want to take your fans for granted. You should feel nervous because each show should be special and unique. I want every fan to have an amazing experience, every time."

It was the perfect answer. I let out an inward sigh of relief. I should have realized Jayce could handle himself. He was a professional. He'd done dozens of interviews before.

"Kell, how do you handle mistakes during a performance?"

"Mistakes? What's a mistake?" Kell turned to the rest of the band. "Guys, have you ever heard of this mistake thing before?" Then he grinned and sat back in his chair. "No, but seriously, all musicians dread making a mistake on stage, but it's going to happen, and more often than you'd like. You can't let one mistake trip you up. It's hard, 'cause sometimes it makes you lose confidence in yourself, but I just remember that even the greatest artists make mistakes. The trick is to just power through it, keep on going and continue putting on a great show."

"Ren, what are your inspirations?"

"I have too many inspirations to name. There is one artist who just blows my mind, Miyavi. He was originally in a rock band, Due le Quartz. That was more than a decade ago. Miyavi went solo and released some amazing stuff. He has this great style of playing, like he's slapping the strings."

"Have you ever met him in person?"

Ren laughed. "God, no, I've never met Miyavi in person. Only in concerts. It would be a dream come true, though."

"Jayce, how do you and the guys juggle work with your personal lives?"

"When you're touring all the time or stuck in a studio recording, it's easy to forget there's another life out there. It's important to have down time to reconnect with the people you love. It helps ground you."

"Yeah, so you don't get a swollen head like me," Kell interrupted.

"And is there love in your life, Jayce?"

I nearly bit my tongue. Why the hell was Deena asking that? I tried to catch her eye, but she wasn't looking in my direction. Did she know? Did she suspect? How had she found out? Was I going to lose my job over one forbidden moment?

The corner of Jayce's lips twitched up. "I did have a little something with one girl," he admitted. "But that's over now."

"Do you think you'll ever get back together?"

He fought back surprise. "I don't know. I'm just focusing on the music right now."

Nausea rose up in my stomach as I feared the worst, but Deena moved on and didn't seem interested in pushing the matter further. I let out a breath of relief. Hopefully, the question was just a routine one. There was no way anyone could know what happened between me and Jayce. For all I knew, Jayce wasn't even talking about me. After all, we'd only shared the one kiss. It made more sense for him to be talking about a previous girlfriend.

I was just being paranoid.

Chapter Nine.

Even though I knew I needed to put it out of my mind, I couldn't stop thinking about what happened with Jayce in that stairwell. I was positive he didn't see me as just another groupie, but that was exactly what everyone would think if they found out we'd kissed. His fans would think he'd chosen someone and they would die of jealousy. Who knew what the crazy ones were capable of?

I stared down at my phone, pretending to work, when really I was trying to gather my thoughts.

Besides, what kind of relationship could I possibly have with someone like Jayce? He was a rock star, practically a god in the eyes of many fans. I was a lowly social media girl, just an intern, not even out of college. He was so far above me in status, I couldn't understand what he saw in me.

It was better to just forget we'd ever been more than work colleagues. Jayce and I had agreed that was the safest thing for both of us. I would have to put it all out of my mind. Jayce and I had our moment, but that was it. No one was going to find out.

I looked up from my phone and saw the producer, Cornelius Connor, directing a cameraman to shoot something from backstage. He wasn't the director, but he was always telling the camera operator what to do. How much of a control freak was he, anyway? I'd never seen him just standing around, relaxing, not working. He was always doing something, always in motion.

I hadn't gotten around to collecting that content for him yet. He wanted to shoot the band's reaction to weird fan stuff, but I still hadn't gone trawling through the depths of the internet to find some. I hoped I wasn't inconveniencing him because of it.

He swung around and pointed a finger in my direction. I ducked out of the way before I ended up in the shot. He saw me, and instead of looking irritated, he gave me a nod and a wave. I returned it, feeling guilty.

I went back to my phone. I'd start gathering that content now. It wasn't too hard, since I was already heavily involved in monitoring and engaging with fans on several different social media platforms. I didn't know exactly what he was looking for, but I found a piece of fan art that someone had posted. They'd drawn the band members in a cute cartoon style, which was interesting enough, but the cherry on top was that they were all wearing the costumes from the Japanese anime Sailor Moon, miniskirt, tiaras, and all. I stifled a giggle and quickly emailed the picture to Cornelius with one line: Weird enough for you?

I heard his phone ping from across the room, and he pulled it out. He must have gotten my email because he looked up and gave me a thumbs up. Looked like I was on the right track.

I sent back another email: I think Kell would make a better Sailor Moon than Jayce, don't you think?

He threw me a grin when he got the email.

I thought the picture was too cute not to share. I didn't want to post it from the band account, not without asking the band members what they thought of it first, but it was definitely something AudioAiley would share with her followers.

@AudioAiley: This artist, while talented, is mistaken. CLEARLY Kell would make a better Sailor Moon. Blond hair? Check. Excitable and hyper? Check. Secretly a princess? ...Jury's still out on that one.

I sent it off, hoping my followers would find it funny.

Another ping echoed through the room, and Cornelius pulled out his phone again. He probably got a million emails a day. He jerked back in surprise, then whipped his head up, looking directly at me. I was taken aback. Had he received some bad news? What did I have to do with it?