Fly With Me | ✓

07.2

The show was everything Everleigh could've dreamt of. Whenever she managed to peel her eyes from the stage for even a moment, Maverick was looking at her. Smiling along with her. She wasn't sure she'd stopped smiling the entire time they'd been there. From the moment she saw the sign outside, she was done for. In the best way possible, her face hurt. And, yeah, she ended up singing along to almost every song. Of course she did. She knew every word.

Everleigh damn near died on the spot when Stevie spotted Maverick in the crowd and gave him a small wave. She wasn't sure how the fuck he'd kept his composure and waved back when Stevie was waving at him. The Stevie. The Stevie Everleigh would drop her life for just to pass her in the streets. Maverick had laughed at her for that one. Everleigh didn't care.

(Maybe she had grabbed Maverick's hand when the opening notes to Eternal Sunshine of a Thoughtless Mind had started. She might've squeezed it until it turned purple—she probably wouldn't have been able to tell in the light. Staying quiet for her favourite song was easy; letting the instruments and Stevie's voice take over her ears and settle in her soul.)

(Maybe.)

The encore was spectacular and the confetti that erupted after the final finale song felt like a representation of how Everleigh's heart felt. Abstract Blue was one of Everleigh's other favourites—who was she kidding, they were all her favourites—and hearing it as the finale was incredible. The entire concert was everything Everleigh dreamed it could've been and more.

"Can I?" Maverick asked, motioning to the top of her head once the crowd had started seeing itself out.

Everleigh nodded, though she wasn't quite sure what he was talking about.

Maverick gently pulled a piece of gold confetti from her hair and dropped it onto the floor with the rest of it. Everleigh brushed a couple pieces of purple off his shoulder.

"Thanks."

"And you," Everleigh said.

"I feel like I don't have to ask," Maverick said, "but did you enjoy it?"

"Oh my God, more than you could ever imagine."

"I can imagine a lot." Maverick was still giving her that confused smile. Enough to knock Everleigh down a peg on her adrenaline from the concert.

"I think when you talk about falling in love with a crowd singing your lyrics..." Everleigh started. "That's kind of how I felt being here. Thank you."

Everleigh tried to ignore the bubbly awkward heat in her chest. A couple hours of MARS hadn't completely erased the embarrassment she buried that she had blurted out, quite loudly, that she loved Kingston Maverick. Crikey, she was a wanker. Bloody fuckin' wanker with shit for brains who had a big, stupid mouth that opened before her brain—which she fought with herself on whether she actually possessed—could pass a thought through about how bloody fuckin' stupid it was to say I think I love you in the middle of a fuckin' concert hall. (Spare only one instance where that was okay.) (See: The Partridge Family.)

"I'm glad you enjoyed."

"We should get going. You probably have plans for the night." Everleigh brushed a hand through her bangs. "New Year's and all."

"You're not coming to meet the band backstage?"

"I'm not what?"

Maverick smiled. Almost like his normal one. But still a bit stiff. He gently reached up and pulled Everleigh's ear plugs from her ears, letting them drape over her shoulders. "You're yelling."