Chapter 3 #2
“You want to hang out?”
“With you?”
He made a show of glancing all around him. “Um, yes? Unless you have other plans.”
“I don’t.” Emmett stared at him with owlish eyes. “You really want to hang out with me?”
“Sure. I have exactly two friends in this town, and they’re both chicks. I could do with some testosterone in my life.”
That got a sharp belt of nervous laughter. “But you don’t know me.”
“Well, I’m trying to change that. Hanging out is typically how human mammals learn about each other, right?”
“Right.”
Lincoln was starting to take the owl-eyed hesitation personally, until he remembered that Emmett had severe anxiety issues.
“Dude, I’m not a serial killer, I don’t have any sort of hidden agenda, and I promise I’m not trying to get into your pants.
” Even while XYZ was on the rise, Lincoln never hid that he was gay.
Hell, the fact that all four members of their band were queer had actually helped them get bookings and blog attention.
Emmett tilted his head. “Okay. Sure, yes, why not?”
“Excellent.” Lincoln gave himself a mental high-five.
He’d made another friend and in less than a week.
He still hadn’t figured out if Emmett was totally straight or not, and he didn’t want to be obvious and scare the kid away.
He wanted to make the whole thing less like a date and more like two friends doing something fun.
“Do you like putt-putt?” Emmett asked.
Lincoln nearly made a dirty joke about that. “Do I like what?”
“Miniature golf. There are a lot of places along the highway. We could do that.”
“Sounds good.” He wasn’t about to admit that he’d never played mini golf in his life. He’d wait and look like a loser tomorrow. “What’s your number?”
Emmett startled, then gave it to him. Lincoln added his digits, then sent a text to Emmett’s phone, since his was in a locker in the back room. “Aunt Bea’s policy for all employees,” he said off Lincoln’s startled expression.
Lincoln made a show of hugging his phone. “I’d be lost without her.”
The genuine laugh that got brightened every part of Emmett’s face, giving him a new adorableness that had been hiding before.
It hinted at a fun-loving person lurking beneath a lot of anxiety and fear, and Lincoln really wanted to get to know that guy.
He couldn’t explain the peace he found from a simple conversation, or how much he was already looking forward to tomorrow’s golf date.
Not a date. Not like that.
It didn’t matter. Emmett was cute, and Lincoln wasn’t looking for anything physical right now.
Emmett glanced behind him, and Lincoln spun around, heart pounding, irrationally afraid of finding Tom right behind him.
Instead a gaggle of giggling girls shouldered their way closer to the bar to place orders.
The interruption seemed to snap Emmett out of the bubble that their conversation had created around them.
He was at work, and he probably needed to get back to it.
“I won’t keep you,” Lincoln said. “Text you in the morning?”
“Okay.” Emmett smiled. “Nice meeting you, Lincoln.”
“The pleasure was all mine.” He grinned, then grabbed his new Coke and returned to his seat at the back table without incident.
Melody propped her chin on her palm and angled in. “And what was that, young man?”
“A little harmless flirting. And I think I made a new friend. That’s two in one week.”
“Personal record?”
Lincoln shrugged as he sipped the bubbling soda.
“Kind of. Never was the big-circle-of-friends type, not even in high school. Which is kind of weird, in a way, since I grew up with parents who had more money than they could spend. Usually people can’t wait to be pals with the rich kid, but I was so focused on music that I didn’t go out much.
” The QChord idea slammed right back into the forefront of his thoughts.
I want to play again. I need to play again.
For all that losing his parents had hurt, playing music—first on a borrowed guitar, and then on his own—helped him over that hump of depression and kept him focused on the future. On being the best musician he could possibly be. On making XYZ worth a damn.
A dream that had imploded on a quiet stretch of highway in the dark morning hours.
He’d been so focused on his limitations and learning how to live with them that he hadn’t taken the time to research ways to re-create his dream.
Maybe he’d never stand on a big stage, surrounded by thousands of people and bright, flashing lights like he had last summer at the Unbound competition, but he could start small.
Start with an open-mike night at Off Beat.
First he needed a QChord, which cost more money than he was comfortable asking the Boundses for.
Good thing he had another source. Lincoln palmed his phone and shot off a quick Call me when you get five minutes text to Dominic.
His phone rang about an hour later, during a teenage girl’s ear-bleeding rendition of Taylor Swift’s “Love Story.” He slipped away from the table and up the cement stairs to the first floor.
No need to subject Dom to such a monstrosity, even over the distance of several hundred miles and the Verizon wireless network.
“Hey, baby,” Dominic said. His voice was a balm to the part of Lincoln that was still unsettled over last week’s mishap with Tom. A mishap he was still completely avoiding dealing with or talking about. Roxy had outdone herself by not pestering him for details.
“Hey, stranger.” Lincoln hated how whiny that sounded. “Taking a break from your fabulous career to remember the little people?”
“Shut up, you’ll never be little people. What’s up?”
The expectant tone of Dominic’s voice made Lincoln wonder how much Zelda had mentioned to her youngest son. Might as well distract him with the real reason for his call. “I need a loan.”
“Okay. You in some kind of trouble?”
He laughed out loud, and boy that felt good. “No, I’m fine. So to speak. I want to buy a QChord.”
“A what?”
Lincoln explained what he knew about the instrument, and also why he thought it might help ease him back into playing again. He probably talked too fast, nervous and excited all at the same time, and even a tiny bit scared Dominic might say no. “So?”
Dominic made a rough sound, and when he spoke again his voice was thick. “Damn, Linc, of course you can have the money. Whatever it costs.”
“Really?”
“Definitely. This is the first time since the accident that you’ve shown any interest in playing music again. You sound alive, man. I’ve missed that.”
Lincoln’s heart twisted, and his eyes stung a little at the emotion coming from his best friend. “You’re not crying, are you?”
“No. My eyes are sweaty because it’s hot down here.”
He grinned through his own threatening tears, because yeah. He wanted this more than almost anything. “Texas, right?”
“Hotter than Satan’s asshole, I’ll tell you.”
“Please don’t.”
Dominic cleared his throat. “So listen, go QChord shopping, then text me how much you need, and I’ll send it.”
“Are you sure?” Lincoln stared at the chalkboard wall and its psychedelic mash-up of names, drawings, and quotations, all of them blurring together as he dared to hope again. “It could be a few bills.”
“I. Will. Send. It.”
Gratitude and love swelled up fast and hard, and Lincoln swallowed several times to keep himself under control. “Thanks, Dom. I need this.”
“I know you do. You’ve still got so much music inside you, Linc. If a few hundred bucks helps you find that music again, it’s more than worth it.”
I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry. Nope.
Dominic must have been on a similar wavelength, because he totally brought in a topic change. “Roxy tells me you’re going out more. Hermit life no longer appealing?”
“Not really.” He started smiling over Melody’s easy charm and Emmett’s pretty, pale eyes. “It feels good not to be alone.”
A long, deep breath gusted over Dominic’s end of the call. “Sorry, man. I know you were looking forward to last week’s visit.”
Shit. “That wasn’t meant to be a guilt trip, I swear. Maybe you did me a favor. It was the kick in the ass I needed to stop moping around feeling sorry for myself.”
Dominic chuckled. “Then I guess I’m glad I could help, even if it was in kind of a roundabout way. So tell me about these new friends.”
He did, stupidly glad to have Dominic’s undivided attention for a little while longer.
Dom got a kick out of his new gal pal, and then gently teased him about tomorrow’s outing with Emmett.
None of the ribbing bothered Lincoln. He was determined to have a good time with Emmett, even if that’s all it turned out to be—a good time between new friends.
Casual sex was off the table, and no one would want to date a hot mess like him, anyway.
Friends are better than sex or a relationship. Friends are stable. Friends are all I need.
And if he told himself that over and over, for a little while longer, maybe he’d even believe it.