Point Of View 2 [*Do not read until you've read the same chapter of ATW]

Chapters 172 & 173 Medicate/ Comatose

"Yeah, he's good like that." I peek from behind the concert and once again, notice Nate turn around for a split second and put his hand on his chest. I'm not sure if he is out of breath or in pain but know we need to have a discussion about it because it's about the fourth time during this concert alone I've noticed it.

When the concert is over and the band makes their way backstage for the afterparty, I throw my arms around my best friend. Leslie passes Nate a water bottle and throws him a complement, something she doesn't do often. "Why does every one of your concerts seem better than the one before?"

Nate laughs lightheartedly. "It's you guys," he answers. His voice is raw from singing so much which means he is going to have to rest his vocal cords more. "All the hard work you put into making this happen for me. And, of course. The fans. I'm nothing without them." 

Leslie smiles bright and proud. Tonight in Nashville was unbelievable. Sure it was hectic when we first arrived due to the weather delaying shit but it all fell into place.  But the pain I saw in Nate on stage weighs heavily and I quickly pull him aside. "Don't think I didn't notice, Nate."

"Notice what? The concert was amazing!" 

"You had chest pains. Halfway through. And again towards the end of the second to the last song." I study his face and his shoulders drop seeing I noticed.

"I was just a little out of breath. That's all it was." Nate pecks my lips with a smile to distract me. "I'm fine. Really."

"Bullshit."

The afterparty starts immediately, ending our conversation as people filter in. 

"I'm gonna go shower so I can enjoy all this. Evan..." Nate signals the bodyguard to escort him to his dressing room and I inhale sharply at how quickly he keeps dismissing his health like that. As they leave, people filter in for the afterparty, including Mila, looking flushed and elated from dancing and singing along to Nate's songs in her suite. Her bodyguards and entourage surround her as she grabs a glass of wine. I don't mind wine. I don't mind beer. But the rest of the stuff needs to go.

Once again, I need to be the bad guy before Nate comes back. The room is filling fast, a steady stream of people dragging in their drinks, passing bottles, joints, pills, among other things to celebrate another successful night. The air is thick with the unmistakable scent of weed, the clink of glass against metal.

I sigh, already irritated.

With zero hesitation, Once again I have to climb onto a chair, miniskirt and all...and shove two fingers into my mouth, sending out a sharp, piercing whistle. Heads snap in my direction. Conversations cut off mid-sentence.

"Alright, listen up!" I call out, hands planted firmly on my hips. "You know the drill...if you want to party hard like this do it somewhere else.  Outside in the back lot. Nate's coming back, and we're not turning this room into a damn pharmacy."

A few groans ripple through the group, followed by exaggerated eye rolls.

"Come on," someone answers. "We've done this a million times."

I arch a brow. "Exactly. Which means you already know I'm not messing around. I don't care what you do but you know Nate is a recovering addict, so don't do that shit around him. He's the whole reason you all are even fucking employed so if you're gonna do it- go outside."

Silence.

A couple of people glance at each other, then, reluctantly, start shuffling their contraband away. A few bottles disappear into bags, joints stubbed out in makeshift ashtrays. They know better than to push their luck with me.