The Crush List

Chapter Six: Heat, Noise, and Reckless Things

The sunlight was far too bright when Emery opened her eyes. She blinked against the warmth pouring through the sheer curtains and stretched beneath the soft sheets, her limbs still heavy from the night before. It hadn’t been wild or exhausting—not physically, anyway—but something about sitting next to Cal in the back of that car, hearing him say he’d always seen her, had shaken something loose in her chest.

And now she was floating.

She padded barefoot into the kitchen, still rubbing sleep from her eyes, and nearly jumped when she saw him—Cal, leaning against the kitchen counter, shirtless, drinking from a coffee mug like he wasn’t the most unfairly attractive man to ever exist. His dark hair was slightly messy, like he hadn’t bothered to tame it yet.

“You’re awake,” he said, handing her a mug. “Good. We’ve got plans.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “What kind of plans?”

His grin was entirely too smug. “Festival plans.”

Her brows shot up. “A music festival?”

Cal nodded, clearly proud of himself. “VIP passes. All access. You’re going to dance, get sweaty, possibly lose your voice singing your lungs out. And...” He paused, eyes glittering. “If the stars align, you might even cross another thing off our list.”

“Oh god.” She sipped her coffee warily. “What now?”

“Well,” he said, crossing his arms. “You could kiss someone you just met. Or... if we’re really ambitious... maybe it’s time you meet the lead singer of that band you used to swoon over in college.”

She nearly choked. “A one-night stand with a rockstar? Seriously?”

“Seriously.” He looked far too pleased with himself. “This is the perfect place for reckless, life-altering mistakes. You’re young. You’re gorgeous. And you deserve at least one wild night.”

She flushed, hiding behind her mug. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“I am,” he admitted shamelessly. “Because you’re finally living. No pressure, Em. But... I packed you some very short shorts and a few band tees I think you’ll like.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You packed for me?”

He winked. “You’d be amazed at how well I know your size.”

Her heart tripped in her chest.

Of course it did.

Because there was no one in the world who could make the idea of a reckless night sound so safe and thrilling at the same time.

The festival grounds were a living, pulsing organism—colors, sound, people. Music thumped like a second heartbeat under Emery’s feet, and she could feel it crawling up her legs, winding through her spine. It was chaotic and loud and overwhelming in the best possible way.

She adjusted the sunglasses Cal had insisted she borrow and looked down at her outfit: high-waisted black shorts, a vintage band tee cut just above her navel, and ankle boots that somehow managed to be both comfortable and cool. She hadn’t expected to feel…hot.

But the way Cal had looked at her when she came down the stairs had made her forget how to breathe for a solid minute.

VIP access meant no lines, a private bar, shaded areas with plush seating, and actual bathrooms. Not porta-potties. Emery still couldn’t quite believe it.

Then, her jaw dropped.

“Lianne?” she called, spotting the familiar dark curls and floral tattoos dancing along the other woman’s arms.

Lianne turned with a grin and held out her arms. “Surprise! Guess who got a text from Cal and nearly cried when she saw the artist lineup?”

Emery laughed, pulling her into a hug. “You’re here!”

“Of course she is,” Cal chimed in smoothly, handing Emery a fizzy cocktail. “I thought it might be good for you to have a partner in crime tonight.”

Lianne winked. “We’re definitely making some bad decisions together.”

Emery sipped her drink, the sweet-tart flavor fizzing on her tongue. “I’ve never been to anything like this. It’s... a lot.”

“But in a good way,” Lianne said, looping her arm through Emery’s. “Let’s go people-watch and judge outfits.”

They wove through the crowd, Lianne pointing out who was famous, who was in a band, who was probably just pretending to be important. Cal trailed a step behind, always watching, always aware. He didn’t hover—but Emery felt his presence like a hand on the small of her back, keeping her grounded.

The sun dipped lower. Lights flared across the stages. Emery laughed harder than she had in weeks, and somewhere between her second cocktail and the start of a set from a wildly good alternative band, she found herself dancing.

Really dancing. Uninhibited. Alive.

Lianne spun her in a circle and whispered, “That guy over there? Lead singer. Tattoos. Absolutely your type.”

Emery flushed. Cal, from a distance, caught her expression and raised a brow.

She looked away, smiling.

Maybe this bucket list wasn’t about recklessness.

Maybe it was about waking up to who she really was.

Later That Night

The air was thick with music and electricity when Lianne elbowed Emery gently and tilted her head toward the VIP bar. “He’s heading this way.”

Emery followed her gaze—tall, tattooed, with a tousled mess of dark curls and a crooked grin. The lead singer of the band they’d just watched. The one who sang with raw emotion like he was bleeding into the mic.

Emery’s heart stuttered in her chest.

He was coming straight for her.

“You were dancing like you wrote the rhythm yourself,” he said, stopping right in front of her, his voice as rough as his lyrics.

She blinked, caught completely off guard. “I—thank you. That set was incredible.”

“I’m Jace,” he said, offering his hand. His gaze dropped to her lips and lingered. “You’re not like the rest of the crowd.”

“I’m Emery.” Her hand fit into his, warm and calloused.

“Come with me.” He didn’t wait for her to overthink it. Just offered the kind of reckless invitation that came with the freedom of loud music and neon lights.

And for once, she didn’t talk herself out of it.

They ended up in a quiet corner of the artist’s lounge, behind a velvet partition and the hum of a private sound system. She kissed him first—because her blood was buzzing and her heart beat like a war drum and her body wanted to remember what it meant to be wanted just for being alive in the moment.

Jace responded like he’d been waiting for it. Their chemistry was instant, hungry, chaotic.

Later, tangled in silk sheets in his tour bus parked behind the festival lot, Emery discovered parts of herself she didn’t know existed. He moved like he was writing a song on her skin, coaxing sound from her throat she didn’t know she could make. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t romance. It wasn’t about anything lasting.

But it was real.

And for the first time, Emery realized there was a version of herself who didn’t just exist in the shadows of other people’s expectations.

She could take up space. She could burn bright. She could feel.

And she liked it.

Still in the Night

The first blush of dawn was just creeping into the sky when Emery slipped quietly out of Jace’s bed.

He was still asleep, one arm thrown over the pillow where she’d been lying. He looked peaceful—sated and distant, as if what happened between them belonged only to the night. And maybe it did. That was okay.

She dressed slowly, the buzz of the festival long gone, replaced by the soft hum of the early morning. Her body ached, but in a way that reminded her she was alive. She paused in front of the mirror inside the small private lounge of the tour bus. Her lipstick was long gone, her hair a mess, and yet—she couldn’t stop smiling.

No shame. No regret.

Just… her, changed in a way that felt permanent.

Lianne was already waiting outside the artist’s entrance, wearing oversized sunglasses and sipping something iced from a plastic cup. “Well,” she said with a smirk, “you look like a woman who just checked something off her list.”

“I did,” Emery said, biting her lip to keep from grinning too much.

“No judgment. You glow.”

Emery laughed, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Let’s just say I’ve learned a lot in the past twelve hours.”

A sleek black town car pulled up beside them, just as Lianne checked her phone. “Cal sent the driver. Said he figured you’d need a smooth ride back to reality.”

“He went home already?” Emery asked, surprised by the small ache she felt at the thought.

Lianne nodded. “Didn’t want to hover. I think he wanted you to have this experience without feeling watched.”

Of course he did.

Emery settled into the car, sinking into the soft leather as the city blurred past her window. Her body was sore, her mind a whirlwind, but underneath it all, a strange peace had settled into her chest.

She was finding herself—one brave, beautiful mess at a time.

And Cal… Cal had given her the space to do just that.