Derek tapped his side. “Hey, is that Francis whoever? The ‘Lightning in the Sky’ guy?”

A young bloke had just walked on stage with a couple of girls. He wore a sequinned t-shirt and when he turned to kiss one of his companions, Willow saw two slashes in his right eyebrow. “Yup, that’s Francis Buchanan. How do you know? I thought you hated house music?”

“I do, but I might need to chat with him after this. Mara’s talking about booking him to play at our bachelor party.”

Willow frowned, then remembered Mara was a zillionaire and booking a massive DJ to play a party was well within her means. “You want Francis to play the bach?”

“Please don’t call it that. And no, I don’t give a fuck about this dickhead. I want whatever Mara wants. Let’s go over to him after the show.”

That was music to Willow’s ears because surely Francis would end up in the green room—exactly where Eden would be.

The set was reaching a crescendo. ‘Pear Drop,’ one of his favourite songs, cranked higher and higher as the crowd screamed. Willow danced. Francis Buchanan stopped kissing his ladyfriend to dance. Derek pulled out his phone.

On stage, Eden swayed, the muscles in her stomach rippling. He’d been to three of her shows and she always did this at the end, danced slowly, as though she were on a higher plane than the frantic energy around her. Calm and perfect. The drunk guy behind him had been right—she was a goddess. The song throbbed downward. Girls peeled off their t-shirts and threw them on stage. Eden raised her arms as they rained around her, blowing her fans kisses with perfect pink lips.

“She’s beautiful,” he told Derek. “Just kill yourself gorgeous, and I’m…” He spread his arms wide. “… working with what I’ve got.”

Derek squinted at him. “What’s the problem?”

Fuck it. He was tired of keeping it a secret. “I’m fully in love with her. She’s the one for me.”

“Mmm.” Derek dropped his gaze back to his phone.

Willow punched his arm. “Hello? I just said I loved someone.”

Derek didn’t look up. “When are you gonna realise when you constantly say you’re in love with everyone, people stop believing you?”

“I do not constantly say I’m in love with everyone!”

“Whatsh goin on boyzs?” It was Psycho, grinning from ear to ear, his pupils the size of dinner plates.

Derek glanced at him. “Skipping over how goddamn high you are, apparently Willow’s in love with the DJ.”

Psycho looked to where Eden was still blowing kisses into the crowd. “She’s prutty.”

“Thank you, Psycho. At least someone’s being supportive.”

Derek nudged their friend. “Think it’ll last?”

Somehow, Psycho’s eyes got wider. “Christ, no.”

He and Derek cracked up. Willow glared at them. “Fuck you both, this time’s different.”