Immoral by Nicole Dykes
It’sthe last concert of this tour and my last one for a while, although not many people know that yet. Ryan tried to fight with me about it, but I’m taking a couple of years off. I’m more than okay with that. It’ll give me time to write new songs and just be with him.
This way, when I want to, I can travel with him.
I’m happy. Holy fuck, am I happy. It’s the best time of my life, and I’m not going to squander it.
I stroke the dark black facial hair I’ve grown out on tour. I’m not sure whether I’m going to keep it, but Ry doesn’t seem to mind, so maybe I will. I try to ignore the slight tremor in my hand as I address the crowd from my position at center stage. “Well hello, Los Angeles! Man, it’s good to be home!”
The crowd shouts happily. I do consider this my home, despite being from Kansas. It’s where I’ve begun to build my life with Ryan. It’s where our house is, where we’ll live together when we aren’t traveling. And until we both officially retire and buy that private island somewhere—yeah, I doubt it will happen, but never say never—this is our home.
The baseball team here has more than embraced Ryan, and we still don’t hide when we go out in public. Our secret is a poorly kept one, and the city seems to be okay with it.
And for the record—if they weren’t, it wouldn’t matter. I haven’t felt this free or this happy in a really long time, and nothing will ruin it. Nothing.
“As you all know, this is my last show for a while.” I’m met with the normal boos as expected, but when I look backstage and see Ry’s wicked smile, I can’t help but match his energy as I look out at the crowd. “I know, I know. But you guys want more songs, right?” Cheering. But it’s woeful. “Okay. So I can guarantee you tonight will be the best damn show you’ve ever seen!”
The crowd roars, and I look over at Ryan, who’s standing next to Waylon and Dawson. Dawson has been a frequent visitor at our house, along with Waylon, who assures me there’s nothing going on, that he’s just taken the kid under his wing. I don’t push because, honestly, I’m not sure if anything is going on.
All I know is I made sure Dawson was here tonight and that he was live-streaming the beginning of this concert.
Because it’s going to be something to see.
Okay, Bell, you can do this. Don’t be a pussy.“So, some of you may or may not know that I’ve been seen around town a hell of a lot with a special person. My best friend.” Ry cocks his head to the side as I look at him but keep my body toward the crowd. “Now, I’m not going to embarrass him and make him come out here with me.” I face the crowd now, smiling. “But I want everyone to know just how much he means to me.”
The crowd goes wild, and I mean, they’re losing their shit. When I turn to see what has them so riled up, I see Ryan approaching me, walking with that strong, confident glide in my direction until he stops only a foot from me, stealing my mic. “I don’t embarrass easily.”
I laugh because that’s true. Ry is stone-cold most of the time. People can’t read him. I take the microphone back. “Ah, true. But I bet I could make you blush.”
He gives me a don’t you dare look, and I laugh. The crowd hoots and hollers as my heart punches rapidly in my chest.
“So, the thing about my best friend, the man I’ve known nearly my entire life is that he loves hard. Fiercely. Particularly. First baseball . . .” I grin at him. “And then me.”
He rolls his eyes, leaning into the mic. “I think that’s the wrong order.”
And again, the crowd loses it. And it’s a big, big audience, so it’s loud. “The thing about me is—I sing about love and how it tears you apart. I wasn’t sure I believed in it because I saw too much hate, but Ry, he makes me believe. In everything.”
A collective “aw” comes from the crowd. Then I drop to one knee, and I think my eardrums might explode from the roar of the crowd, but all I can do is look up at Ry as I take his hand in mine. “I know we said no big announcements. No Tweets.”
“Right.” Ry wants to be mad. I can see it, but I can also see he’s not, not even a little. He looks almost childlike with that grin on his face. “But a crowded arena with our friend Dawson live-streaming?”
“Go big or go home, right, Bailey?”
He chuckles, “Get on with it.”
“Marry me.” Not a question. It’s a demand because it’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“Yes. I’ll marry you.” Yeah, I think my ears are bleeding. I didn’t think this through because I’ve never heard a crowd so frenzied as when he raises me up to him and pulls me in for a kiss. “I love you, you fucking asshole.”
“You love my asshole?” He rolls my eyes and covers the mic with his hand. “I love you too.”
When he releases me, we still hug our bodies close. I look over at Dawson, who’s tearing up as he tells the world that Ryan Bailey is mine.
Officially.
