Chapter 19
Alara
T his is insane. My heart slams in my chest as Nix leads me inside the building.
His security follows closely behind with my new guitar in hand.
I'm still trying to process the fact that not only are we here, but he bought me a guitar.
The amount of thought that went into yet another date has me in complete awe.
Nobody has ever taken a chance on me like he has.
A few people take pictures of us while we walk in, probably wondering who the girl on his arm is.
Nobody is too pushy with him. Maybe they are used to more famous people coming here.
My eyes land on the stage at the far end of the room.
The setup isn't much different from the bar I work at. It’s just three times the size.
The night is already in full swing, with table after table of people laughing, drinking, and watching the live music.
We showed up with just enough time for me to prepare for my turn.
I’m not sure if he did that intentionally to keep me from chickening out, but I’m thankful for it.
Still, I can’t help but feel some nerves creep in as we maneuver our way through the building .
"You're going to be fine." Nix glances down to reassure me before grabbing the guitar from his security.
We end up backstage, where it’s quiet and away from most prying eyes.
The few people around are fully focused on themselves, not on the two of us, which is nice.
My palms are more sweaty than usual as Nix walks us to a corner.
He places the guitar against the wall before gripping my waist to pull me in.
"What if I mess up?"
"Then you mess up.” He shrugs. “It's just another stage. You've got this."
He has so much faith in me. Something about this feels so familiar.
'It's just another stage with another crowd,' I hear someone say when a flash of a memory comes through. I can't picture their face, but the voice is comforting, just like Nix’s.
Something catches me off guard, more than usual. In this memory, I was standing exactly where I am right now. I've been here before.
"Nix, good to see you!" I hear someone shout. “Your girl's on in five."
I take a deep breath, trying to calm the panic that threatens to consume me. My throat feels tight, and I don't know what to do with these emotions. Nix’s face contorts, full of worry.
"Hey, if you don't want to go out there, you don't have to.” Nix’s eyes soften, and his brows pinch together.
“I want to,” I admit .
“Sing to me, pretend they’re not there.” He pulls me in for a hug, and another flash of a memory comes through.
“If it feels like it's too much to process, pretend the crowd isn't there. Sing to me and not them." Sing to him. I can do that.
I shake my head, trying to get control of the jumbled images in my mind.
"Nix, I think I've been here before," I confess.
"What do you mean?" He seems confused, likely because he has no idea about my amnesia.
"Fuck. We don't have enough time." I shake my head, trying to calm myself.
It was only a matter of time before I had to tell him, anyway.
"Okay, I promise I'll explain it more when we're alone if you have questions, but the simple version is I have retrograde amnesia.
I'm missing a few years, and I think I've been here before. "
"Here? As in Vector's Lounge?" he questions.
"I think. I don't know for sure. I just had a memory of someone comforting me before I went on stage. That's probably not what you want to hear, but it was just a flash. I don't know what it means, and I can't control it. There wasn't enough for me to put–"
"Hey," he cuts me off.
I glance up, eyes welling with tears.
I'm ruining all of this. I wouldn't be surprised if he runs as far as possible, not wanting anything to do with me.
I'm fucked up, too complicated. The worst part is, these memories could be wrong.
My doctor warned me of that. Things can get blurred.
I could be melding feelings because of my nerves.
"You're spiraling." He brings his palm to my cheek in an attempt to comfort me.
"I just... I don't know." I sigh.
"It's going to be okay. We can talk about your amnesia later, or not. It doesn't affect how I feel about you." He leans in and presses his lips to mine.
A tear slips down my cheek that he wipes away with his thumb. He doesn't want to run. I blurted out the truth, and he doesn't want to run away. A new sense of confidence fills me as I take a deep breath. He deserves my strength. I have to do this. Amnesia and nerves be damned.
"Hey! One minute!" someone shouts at us.
"I'm with you, whatever you decide." Nix nods, his eyes locked on mine.
I grab the sides of his face, crushing my lips to his before reaching over to grab the guitar and striding toward the stage. I give him one last glance. "Will you sit up front?"
He smiles, nodding. "I'll be there."
"Okay."
"Okay," he agrees.
I'm not alone long enough for any extra doubt to seep in. Before I know it, my name is announced, and someone who seemingly appeared out of nowhere is shooing me toward the stage .
I step onto it, placing one foot in front of the other as I shift the weight of the guitar on my shoulder. The light feels uncomfortably bright, and the loud thumping of my heart in my ears makes me unsure I'll even be able to focus.
Once I get in front of the microphone, I scan the crowd.
Right there, directly in the middle, is my guy.
He's not at any table. He just has a chair in the middle of everyone's way, making me smile.
Feeling relieved, I lean toward the microphone and strum my guitar to sing for him.
It's just him and me; nobody else matters.
"Shatter me in your memory," I start, swaying to the words as the meaning behind the song pulls at my heartstrings.
The more of the song I sing, the more I realize it's like I somehow wrote it for him.
He's pulling me from the loneliness of the dark and mending all the fractures of my soul.
He sees me, and even if I was never lost to him, I was lost to myself.
He's helped me find parts that I didn't realize I needed.
Adrenaline rushes through my body, making my skin buzz as I finish up and run my fingers along the strings of the guitar one final time. Everyone cheers loudly, but it's all background noise. All I can focus on is the guy sitting center stage as he mouths the words, 'You did amazing'.
I bow briefly, waving and practically running to the side. Once out of the spotlight, I spin with my arms spread wide, loving the high from the performance. I did it. I sang at Vector's Lounge. Holy fucking shit. I sang at Vector's lounge .
Moments later, Nix runs up, pulling me into his embrace with the guitar between our bodies. "You did it, my sweet sparrow. You absolutely crushed it!"
A warmth sparks in my chest. Is this love? Surely, it's not. It's too early for that. I just find myself so damn thankful for this man and how he's not only helping me push my boundaries, but he's doing it in a non-judgmental way.
"Can we get out of here?" I raise a brow.
“You don’t want to stay?”
“No. Not even a little bit.” I grin.
He doesn't hesitate to reach for my hand, pulling me toward the door. We could stay, have a few drinks, and celebrate, but that's not what I want. The only thing on my mind is the man next to me and how I plan to thank him for this incredible opportunity.
We make it to the front of the building and only have to wait a few minutes for the car to arrive in front of us. The whole time, I have my arms wrapped around his neck, kissing him and letting him keep my thoughts clear of any kind of doubt.
He slides into the car first, and I crawl in behind, handing the guitar off to the driver to handle. Instead of sitting on the seat next to him, I toss one leg over his waist and settle on his lap. My arms fall on top of his shoulders, resting while I scan his eyes.
I'm not usually the type to be so forward, but with him, everything’s different.
From this position, my skirt is pushed up my stomach, giving him the perfect grip on my hips.
I grind against him, and the bulge that's already filling his pants rubs along my most sensitive part.
There's a throbbing between my legs that’s growing more and more needy by the second.
He guides me forward by my hips again, forcing a whimper out this time as pleasure begins to build.
"I need you," I pant, unsure of how. I just know I need him.
He lifts me off his lap, placing me on the seat next to him. I'm about to object, but before I can, he settles between my legs, leaving one on the floor and lifting the other up on the seat.
"How much do you like these tights?" His voice is low and full of a deep determination.
"I hate them." I grin, giving him full permission to tear them to shreds.
He grips the fabric, pulling it apart at the seam.
Not even a moment later, a warm breath hits my center, and I jerk my hips forward.
His hands clutch my thighs, pushing my legs further apart as his tongue makes contact.
I tangle my fingers in the black strands of his hair, pulling him further into me; the vibrations from his approving groan only add to the pleasure.
My head falls backward on the seat as he feasts relentlessly.
A finger slips inside me, and I cry out as his tongue swirls perfectly around my clit.
Over and over, he repeats his motions in a perfect rhythm, stroking the fire within my core.
After just a few minutes, I’m already so close to losing all control.
He slips another finger into my tight channel, picking up his pace. I spasm, trying my best to hold out for as long as possible, but he has me seeing stars. His fingers curl, and my legs twitch, tightening around his head .
"I'm going to come," I cry out.
It’s too much. My whole body begins to shake, and I can’t stop the inevitable. My walls clamp down around his fingers, tingles spreading across my skin. It’s faint, but I swear I hear him say, “Such a good girl,” as wave after wave hits me and my hips buck up into his face.
His fingers slow when my high finally starts to recede, and he pulls his face from my center. Wetness drips from his chin as his eyes burn with desire. In any other circumstance, I would shy away, but not with him. I grip his shirt, pull his mouth to mine, and taste myself on his tongue.
My hand slides down his body in search of his cock so I can return the favor, but he tries to stop me. When I persist and rub my hand over his bulge, I’m surprised to find his pants are wet.
He pulls his lips from mine, breathing hard, just as the car comes to a stop in front of my house. "Can I come inside? I need to… um… clean up."
I blink a few times, trying to understand what he's saying before connecting the pieces. He came in his pants from giving me pleasure. Holy fuck, that’s hot.
"Let's get inside," I finally agree.
I fix my skirt, pulling it down over the torn leggings like nothing ever happened. Nobody would ever know there's a giant hole in the center of my tights where my boyfriend ate me out.
Wait, boyfriend. He's never called himself that. Maybe we should talk about whether we’re exclusive while he's inside. I am, but I don't know if he is or not. I guess there’s only one way to find out.