The Moment You Know (The Moments Duet #1)

Prologue

Groundhog Day

Thirteen years ago

“We’re going in,” Jules announced, grabbing Paige’s arm and dragging her toward Brews Brothers. It was a popular bar just off campus that they’d frequented many times since turning twenty-one almost a year ago.

“It’s Tuesday night,” Paige pointed out.

“So? Brews Brothers sells alcohol every night of the week, or haven’t you heard? And we need some.”

“We?”

“Well,Ineed some. Which means by proxy, so do you.”

“You’re such an alcoholic. And I have a paper to finish. Which means by proxy, so do you.”

“Good one,” Jules said with a grin, then killed it a second later and replaced it with a look so full of steel it would’ve beaten Vlad Putin in a stare-off. “Your paper’s not due until next week. So, take that excuse and stuff it up yourbutt.We’re going in.”

“Fine,” Paige relented. “But don’t think you’re getting me trashed, because you’re not. I’ve barely recovered from the last time … which was just a few days ago.”

Jules pulled Paige into the bar, which was decorated in a mix of sports and pop culture memorabilia from the previous fifty years. Football and basketball jerseys from numerous college and professional teams were hung on the walls, mixed in with framed movie posters and pictures of Marilyn Monroe, Martin Luther King, and Mickey Mouse. From the ceiling, random sports equipment hung suspended by heavy-gauge wire—hockey skates, lacrosse sticks, baseball bats, several pairs of skis, snowboards, and even a giant, yellow surf board.

High-top tables of varying sizes with mismatched chairs were scattered throughout the bar. Each one was dedicated to a different musical group or artist, with a selection of their vinyl albums and album covers arranged and preserved under a thick layer of epoxy. The line-up was an eclectic mix of Michael Jackson, Johnny Cash, Van Halen, Led Zeppelin, the Beatles, AC/DC, Elvis, Fleetwood Mac, Madonna, the Rolling Stones, Prince, and even Britney Spears.

On the weekends, the bar was usually at full capacity, but tonight the bar was sparsely populated because … Tuesday night.

“Jesus. It’s pretty dead in here,” Jules observed with disappointment.

Paige rolled her eyes before giving Jules a hearty slap on the shoulder. “You have fun without me, all right? I’m just going to go and—”

“Wrong. The only place you’re going to go is over to one of those tables with me,” Jules told her in a tone that said the debate was over. Then without looking back, she headed into the main part of the bar, leaving Paige to follow.

They had barely sat down at the table featuring the Beatles, when a waitress appeared to take their order. She was dressed in black skinny jeans and a plain white shirt with ‘brEWS brOTHERS’ silk-screened across her chest in black letters. Overflowing beer mugs had been substituted for each ‘E’ which, clearly by design, appeared to perfectly align with each waitress’s nipples.

While Jules ordered them both gin and tonics, Paige absently glanced around. Only a handful of tables were occupied and she let her eyes drift around the room until a boisterous round of male laughter off to her left drew her attention.

Looking over, Paige saw four guys at one of the larger round tables, three of whom were raising shot glasses in an apparent toast. They all qualified as eye candy, but it was the guy not holding up his shot glass that had her doing what felt like a cartoonish double take. He had wavy, dark ash-brown hair worn slightly long on top and swept back, a defined jawline with a hint of stubble, and a straight, aquiline nose.

As Paige studied him, his wide mouth stretched into a grin at something the guy next to him said. He nodded and said something back, then raised his shot glass as the other three guys looked at him with exaggerated expectation. It seemed clear that they were waiting for him to speak and after a prolonged, thoughtful moment, he said something Paige couldn’t hear. Her curiosity was instantly fueled when two of the guys practically howled with laughter in response to whatever he’d said and the third guy adopted a comically lovelorn expression before saying, “Pussy!”

It was said loud enough to be heard over the two guys laughing and a few people at other tables turned to look. Instead of being embarrassed, the guy who’d just been called a pussy shrugged off the insult and responded by simply putting his shot glass to his mouth and throwing it back like a pro. The other three guys followed suit, then they all simultaneously planted the empty shot glasses upside down on the table.

Paige watched as the guy twirled his shot glass a few times with long fingers before she let her eyes trail up the length of his arm. He was wearing a fitted, short-sleeved shirt, making it possible for her to thoroughly admire his nicely defined biceps. Her eyes then leisurely moved up over a broad shoulder overlaid with a pleasingly rounded deltoid and up to his face again—only to freeze when she saw that he was staringrightback at her.

Utterly shocked at being caught blatantly checking him out, she panicked. Instead of handling the situation in an even remotely cool manner (Jules would’ve probably winked at the guy), Paige abruptly looked away from him, only to find herself even more abruptly locking gazes with Jules.

“What’s wrong?” Jules asked.

“Nothing,” Paige quickly denied, feeling her face heat up. “I thought you, um … did you say something?”

Jules frowned. “No. What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me.”

“Are you sure? You look like you’re going to shit yourself.”

“Thanks. I’m not going to shit myself.”

“I didn’t say you were. I said youlookedlike you were.”

“Well, you know what? You look like you’re going to stop talking to me for a while,” Paige said with full sarcasm, just as the waitress appeared with their drinks.

As soon as her gin and tonic was in front of her, Paige picked it up. As she was taking a drink, there was another burst of laughter to her left and despite the fact that she’d been caught checking out the guy barely a minute ago, she was unable to keep herself from looking again. This time, though, she was extremely careful, turning her head as little as possible and limiting her perusal to only a few seconds. When once wasn’t enough, she kept doing it, all of her focus directed toward looking at the guy while not getting caught by Jules. Paige got so immersed in her surveillance that she decimated her drink without realizing it—she was actually shocked when she went to take a drink and got nothing but ice cubes.

“And you were worried aboutmegetting you trashed?” Jules asked. “Slow down, sister.”

“I’m not getting trashed,” Paige denied, sounding defensive even to her own ears. Then, looking at Jules’s empty glass, she added, “Slow down, yourself. You’re finished with your drink, too, by the way.”

“Only because I’ve been trying to keep up withyou.”Jules signaled the waitress for another round and when that task was done, she leaned forward. “Can I offer you some advice?”

“God, no.”

“For fuck’s sake, just go over and say hello already. While you’re still able to talk. And walk.”

“What do you mean? Say hello to who?”

“To the guy you’re obviously crushing on over at that table, that’s who.”

Paige didn’t say anything as the waitress appeared, set down fresh drinks, then picked up their empty glasses and left.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Paige busied herself with looking down at theAbbey Roadalbum cover on the table in front of her, as if fascinated by it.

“Look, I know you’re pretending not to be checking him out, but let’s face it, Paige, you’re about as subtle as a jackhammer. I’m totally on to you. I’m also on tohim, because he’s checking you out as much as you’re checking him out—”

“Maybe he’s checkingyouout,” Paige argued, looking at her roommate, who drew men like moths to a flame, with her vivid, copper red hair and dark blue eyes.

Jules gave a dismissive shake of her head. “He’s checkingyouout. Trust me.”

“If I remember correctly, the last time I trusted you it didn’t end well for me,” Paige said pointedly before taking a drink. “When you set me up with a freshman.”

“Mistakes happen. And in my defense, he was hot. If he’d been a few years older you’d have been thanking me—and you know it.”

Paige took another drink, neither confirming nor denying Jules’s claim. It was partially true, but Paige wasn’t going to give Jules the satisfaction of knowing it.

“Anyway, back to the guy you can’t stop eye fucking,” Jules went on.

Paige almost spit out her drink. “I’m not eye fucking him!”

“Please.You should see yourself. And he’s just as bad. For crying out loud, I feel like I should light up a cigarette after watching the two of you for the past five minutes.”

Paige knew her roommate had no real reason to blow smoke up her ass, but hot guys like the one over at the table didn’t generally check Paige out, especially not when Jules was around. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, but—”

“But you don’t believe me. Which is why I’m going to prove it. And when I do, you have to go and say hello to the guy.”

“Oh, I do?”

“Yes. That’s non-negotiable.”

Paige narrowed her eyes. “And then what?” she asked, figuring there had to be another string attached.

“And then … whatever,” Jules answered, casually shrugging one shoulder.

“Whatever?” Paige mimicked Jules’s one-shoulder shrug, then asked with alcohol-infused bluntness, “Is that code for climbing on the guy’s dick?”

Jules raised her hands toward the heavens. “Praise Jesus, I sincerely hope so. We’re getting close to graduation and you’re not leaving college a virgin. You’renot. I won’t let you.”

“Do I need to remind you again, that it’s not up to you?”

“I mean it, Paige. Getting you laid is actually on my bucket list.”

“It’s on your bucket list? That’s not how bucket lists work.”

“It’s how mine works and that guy is the one to cross it off.”

Paige exhaled a long suffering breath and asked, “So, just for the sake of argument, how would you prove it?”

Instead of answering, Jules turned and started waving somewhat wildly at the guy to get his attention, which she did just as he was raising his glass of beer to take a drink. Looking startled for a moment, his expression turned slightly guarded when Jules pointed at him, then to herself. She paused for several seconds, before pointing at him again and then pointing at Paige, finishing with a dramatic head-tilt, as if to say,Well?

“Jesus, Jules, he probably thinks you’re asking him to have a threesome,” Paige hissed. “And I don’t give a shit if that’s on your bucket list—”

“It’s not, so don’t worry.”

Now grinning, the guy set down his glass while his friends, who had all watched the exchange, laughed at him. He took their amusement in stride, otherwise not paying them any attention as he slowly and deliberately pointed at himself, then at Paige.

“Holy shit,” Paige murmured. She thought she was going to fall off her chair.

“I freaking told you so,” Jules cried triumphantly, extremely pleased with herself. “I’m never wrong about these things.Never.”

“But what if you are? What if this is a joke? A prank?”

Jules glanced over at the guy, then back to Paige. “It’s not. But if it is, I’ll kick that guy’sballs into the next century.Now get your ass over there and say hello.”

Still in shock at what had just played out, Paige swallowed as she remembered she was wearing her ancient, ripped jeans with a distressed Pink Floyd T-shirt and had very little make-up on. And God only knew what her hair looked like.

“I can’t. Jules, I look terrible.”

Rather than try and convince her friend otherwise, Jules waved off Paige’s concern. “Don’t worry about it. Clearly he doesn’t think so and that’s all that matters,” she said, before repeating, “Now get your ass over there and say hello.”

“Fine. But not without your ass. You’re coming with me.”

“Fine.”

Picking up her drink, Jules got to her feet and waited for Paige to do the same before walking over to the other table. Halfway there, Jules turned to Paige and told her in a low voice, “I expect you to name your first child after me.”

“What if it’s a boy?” Paige asked, forcing herself to focus on the conversation with Jules and not on tripping while the guy was watching her approach. “‘Jules’ isn’t unisex.”

“Okay, your firstdaughter, then. You can name the rest of your kids whatever you want.”

“Kids, plural? How many do you think I’m going to have?”

“How would I know? That’s up to you and whoever that guy is.”

As they neared the table, ‘that guy’ stood and offered Paige his chair, then grabbed a chair from a nearby table and squeezed it in next to his. One of the guys across the table grabbed a chair for Jules, who took it with a smile and immediately started introductions after sitting down.

“I’m Jules,” she volunteered with a blinding smile.

“Miles,” said the guy to Jules’s left, the one who’d gotten the chair for her.

On the other side of Miles, the guy who Paige recognized as the one who’d yelled ‘pussy’ earlier, leaned forward to gallantly shake Jules’s hand. “Nate.”

It was now Paige’s turn and instead of addressing the table at large, she focused mainly on the guy to her left; up close, he was even better looking and she could see his eyes were an unusual hazel color—deep green, like the color of wet moss, with hints of blue and flecked with gold. His mouth was a work of art, his full lower lip grabbing her attention, until she saw the beautifully shaped bow of his upper lip … but the moment she saw the cleft in his chin, she was complete toast. “I’m Paige.”

“I’m David,” he told her, his voice low and masculine.

Paige barely heard the guy to David’s left say his name was Alex, because David almost immediately leaned in close and semi-whispered in her ear, “I’ve been wondering what color your eyes were.”

His admission made her blink in confusion. He had eyes sonnets could be written about and he’d been wondering about hers? “They’re brown.”

“Not really,” he disagreed. “They’re more like the color of …” he trailed off for a long moment, before finishing with, “… my Sabre-Toothed Squirrel.”

Next to him, Alex made a choking sound. “Jesus Christ, man. It’s a good thing you’re so pretty. Because you have zero game, Davy.”

Barely glancing in Alex’s direction, David said, “Go fuck yourself,” then turned back to Paige, angling himself to cut Alex off from any further involvement in their conversation.

“What’s a … Sabre-Toothed Squirrel?” she asked slowly, wondering if it was some kind of joke.

“My ale.” David grabbed his glass of beer, which was still half full and held it up so that the amber liquid caught the light. “See? Perfect match.”

“Your ale is called ‘Sabre-Toothed Squirrel’?”

He reached over to turn his beer bottle toward her so she could see the label. To her amusement it showed a squirrel with crazy eyes and long teeth getting ready to bite into a hop, instead of a nut.

“I’ve never heard of it,” she said.

“You’re not the only one,” Alex told her, apparently still listening in on their conversation, undeterred by David’s attempt at blocking him. “It could’ve been worse, though. Earlier he was drinking something called Moustache Ride, so he could’ve compared your eyes tothat.”

Paige laughed. “That probably wouldn’t have gone over as well as the Sabre-Toothed Squirrel comparison.”

“He’s just being an asshole,” David said. “I wouldn’t have compared your eyes to my Moustache Ride. I’d have come up with something better.”

“What was it you were you throwing back last week?” Alex asked. “Maple Tit, or something like that?”

“MapleNipple,”David corrected him, then told Paige, “That wasn’t very good. Amber Smashed Face was better.”

Paige noticed that the other guys were all drinking Budweiser. “Are you a beer snob?”

“Oh, my God. He’s the fuckingworst,” Alex answered, not caring that the question hadn’t been directed at him. “He won’t drink anything on tap, or from a can. His bar bills are ridiculous.”

Having had enough of Alex, David twisted to look at him, warning in a low voice, “If you don’t immediately find another conversation to get involved in, I’m going to tell the girl in our Business Ethics class you want to hook up with that you got tested for an STD recently.”

“Fuck you.” Alex glared at David and then glanced over at Paige. “It was negative.”

Not exactly sure how to respond to that, Paige finally settled on, “Oh, well … congratulations.”

David stifled a laugh and Alex glared at him again before mumbling, “Asshole,” and turning away. Almost immediately, he turned back and jabbed a finger at David’s glass of beer. “And by the way, that’s thelastten-dollar beer I’m buying for your fucking birthday,” he added, sounding more like a petulant seven-year-old than a legal adult as he started to turn away again, only to turn backagain.

Paige was surprised he didn’t have whiplash.

“Actually, you know what?” Alex reached around David, pushing against him in the process as he grabbed the ten-dollar beer in question. “You don’t get to drink the rest of this. Fuck that,” he said, then proceeded to lift the half-full glass to his mouth and drain it. When he was finished, he set the glass down on the table in front of David with a heavy thud, almost directly over Angus Young’s face on AC/DC’sHighway To Hellalbum cover, before turning away a third time.

“He seems a little upset,” Paige whispered.

“He’ll get over it,” David assured her. Then, sounding slightly perturbed, he muttered, “Probably before I get over him drinking my beer. What a dick.”

His adorable pout gave Paige an idea and she flagged down the waitress. Paige picked up the empty Sabre-Toothed Squirrel bottle and tilted it toward David, not missing the appreciation in the waitress’s eyes as she came to a stop next to David.

“Can you bring him another one of these?” Paige asked. “Onme,”she added, surprised at how territorial she was sounding, given that she’d only just barely met David and all they were doing was talking. However, the waitress was pretty, with great boobs, and Paige didn’t want her thinking David’s door was open, so a little warning was in order.

With a short nod, the waitress took the empty bottle, then made her way around the rest of the table, checking on other refills.

“You didn’t have to do that,” David told Paige, even though he really liked that she had.

For a second, she thought he meant her little thing with the waitress, but then decided he meant her buying him a beer. She shrugged. “I happen to have ten dollars I don’t know what to do with.”

He smiled at that and Paige found herself caught up in another layer of his appeal. “Plus, I might’ve heard it was your birthday,” she added.

He nodded.

“Happy birthday,” she said.

“Thanks,” he replied and then slightly wary, told her, “Now, go ahead and let me have it.”

“Let you have what?”

“A bunch of shit about my birthday being on Groundhog Day. Everyone does it.”

Paige pursed her lips for a moment. “Well, my birthday is April 15th, so I won’t be giving you any shit about being born on Groundhog Day. To be honest, I’m actually pretty jealous.”

“Jealous?”

She gestured toward a TV that was currently showingGroundhog Dayand they watched asBill Murray drove off a cliff into the quarry with Phil the groundhog. “Your birthday essentially has its own mascot, not to mention its own movie. I’d trade birthdays with you in a—” Paige broke off as the sudden appearance of Nate’s head over her shoulder made her jump in surprise. “Jesus Christ!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Nate apologized, giving Paige a soothing pat on her arm, before glancing at David with undisguised curiosity and amusement. “So, how are things progressing over here?” he wanted to know.

“Things are progressing just fine, thanks,” David told him.

“Does that mean you two are getting to know one another?”

David gave Nate a long, pointed look. “We’re working on it.”

“Aww,” Nate gushed like a teenaged girl, deliberately overlooking David’s aggravation. “Looks like your birthday wish is coming true—”

David reached over and pushed Nate away by his face, cutting him off. “That’s enough, Nate. Time to piss off.”

“Keep me posted!” Nate called out, laughing. “Because I wantallthe details.”

Paige waited until David had settled back in his chair and then asked, “Birthday wish?”

“They toasted to my birthday and made me make a wish. Then we drank a shot of Tequila.”

The scene he was describing was obviously the one she had witnessed earlier and she tilted her head. “So, what was your wish? Nate said it looked like it was ‘coming true’,” she said, using air quotes, something she was usually against, because it was stupid.

He paused for a moment. “My wish was to get to know you.”

Paige didn’t say anything as she struggled to believe he had really wanted that. It seemed likesucha line, but he looked utterly sincere—not to mention he had obviously gotten called a pussy for it—so she should’ve had no reason not to believe him. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” He leaned forward, moving into her personal space and took one of her hands, twining their fingers together. She was a little shy—and not his usual type—but David was overwhelmingly drawn to her, from her dark, caramel-colored hair, amber eyes and liberal dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks, to her wide, generous mouth; even her slightly pointed chin was appealing. “I saw you and … I just wanted to get to know you.”

Paige’s heart actually tripped and she had to take a calming breath. “You know, I think Alex was wrong earlier.”

“He’s wrong about a lot of things, so you’ll have to be more specific than that.”

“When he said you had zero game,” she clarified softly.

He raised an eyebrow. “So you don’t think he was wrong when he said I was pretty?”

“No. He was definitely right about that.”