Chapter 7 #4
I could totally picture it. He was so confident and funny that even as a no-name college freshman, people probably went to that bar just hoping he’d be there with his friends.
While we waited for our turn, he entertained me with funny college stories that made his eyes crinkle and his dimples pop. There was something about laughing with him, our eyes meeting easily, that felt so nice that it kind of made me sad.
Wistful for something.
I am truly a wreck.
Then he mentioned playing COD with his friends, which made me launch into all the stories of learning to play COD—the old-school World War II version—with my dad and brothers when my mom thought I was doing homework, and we got so lost in conversation that I almost forgot where we were and who I was with.
Until we were called to the stage.
“Please welcome to the stage, Kenny and Dolly,” the bartender said into the microphone, looking bored as he made the announcement then quickly went back to mixing drinks.
I looked at Connor. “Tell me that isn’t us.”
“I couldn’t use our real names,” he said with a look that told me he was very amused by his choice of fakes and not even the tiniest bit sorry.
“So that was your only option, is that what you’re saying?”
“Pretty much,” he said with a smile as he stood. “You ready, Distefano?”
Yes, it was a dive bar and it wasn’t packed, but I felt a rush of butterflies as I climbed to my feet. There were enough people out there to make me want to throw up at the idea of singing in front of them.
But when we stepped onstage, I glanced at Connor and he gave me another smile.
That world-famous Connor Cunningham grin.
There was a reason why people in the city loved him, above and beyond how good he was at football.
He had this crackling energy about him, like he was down for a good time all the time, and dear Lord, he was giving me that good-time smile right now.
I couldn’t help but smile back, especially when I realized that in “Exile,” the opening lines were the man’s.
He had to sing first, and that was wonderful.
And he was brilliant.
“I can see you standing, honey, with his arms around your body,” he started, and I was instantly giggling. Not only was his voice terrible, but he was melodramatic, waving a fist and making a ridiculously somber face as he sang the heartbreaking lyrics.
His unseriousness made it so easy for me to sing my part. Also thank you, Jack Daniel’s, for the liquid courage. We sang the crap out of that song, both of us laughing as we belted the lyrics and gestured to each other like lovesick fools while no one in the place paid us any attention.
“I can’t believe you didn’t want to do this when you were obviously born to be onstage,” Connor said as we walked back to our table, his hand on my lower back.
“The way you dropped your microphone twice, the way you cackled directly into it when I hit my high note; you, Miss Distefano, are a natural performer.”
“I guess I was afraid you’d be jealous,” I said with a laugh.
“Of…?” he prompted.
“Of my talent? My…showmanship?”
“I mean, I was definitely in awe of it,” he said as we sat down. “Your performance was awesomely…something.”
“Stop gushing, Cunningham, it’s embarrassing.”
“Like your performance.”
“Embarrassingly awesome?”
His mouth slid into a gut-punching full-on grin. “That is exactly what it was.”
I was truly disappointed when we had to leave, but I also knew morning was going to come way too early.
When he finally pulled up in front of my house, I held out a hand.
“You probably don’t want to walk me to the door,” I said, looking out the windshield and remembering the chaotic nightmare that had been his arrival at my house several hours before.
“No?” Connor asked, his dark eyebrows wrinkling together like he was confused by my request.
“No,” I said. “It’ll be round two of the pickup. My dad and brothers will try to get you to stay and watch TV and drink beer with them and it’ll be a whole thing that we don’t want happening. Dropping me here is perfect,” I said.
“Well, I had a really great time tonight,” he said, and something about the tone of his voice made my stomach do a flip as those intense eyes met mine.
“So did I,” I said, feeling shy and also like I was going to explode from the way he was looking at me.
It was impossible. Connor Cunningham could not be looking at me like that.
And I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination, but it felt like he was leaning in closer, like there was a heavy anticipation in the air.
Is he going to kiss me?
I swallowed and looked at his mouth, and when my eyes came back up, I could see he’d registered that look.
He saw that I’d looked at his mouth.
Did he think I was expecting him to kiss me?
Maybe he had zero plans to, but now I’d looked at his mouth.
Shit.
My wild imagination was making me a fool and I didn’t want to embarrass myself so before I could make things worse, I reached for the door handle and jumped out of the car.
“Thank you so much I had a great time,” I yelled at him, barely registering his look of surprise and amusement, before turning and running up the stairs to my porch.
He idled in the car while I unlocked the door, and after I stepped inside, I let out a relieved breath. I then watched through the peephole as he finally put the car in reverse and drove away.
I’d just had dinner and sung karaoke with Connor Freaking Cunningham.
What the hell?