Chapter 14 #3
The KJ hands me a microphone that feels too heavy in my hand. No wonder Taylor Swift has biceps. She must get it from raising this damn thing for hours every day.
The microphone squeals in my grip. Oh Lord. This is real. I squeeze the microphone, letting the pressure of it dig into my palm.
When the music starts, I close my eyes, thankful I blindly chose a song I know.
The intro ends, and I sing.
Badly. Quietly. So quietly that the guy in the front row starts shouting at me to speak up.
Mr. Brightside has never sounded so bleak.
My voice is thin. Shaky. Off-key in places that make me wince and the crowd cringe.
But I’m doing it, and when Valen’s face appears in the front row, my anxiety loses its painful edge. Especially when he leans into the drunk guy’s space. Whatever he says has the stranger bolting for the exit.
“Louder,” Valen mouths. “Let me hear you.” He scans the exit to his right, then the left, and each time his gaze leaves me, I’m cold and untethered.
My next line is almost audible. The one after that can at least be heard when no one’s talking.
Valen holds one hand to his ear while the other hand motions for me to continue, but his gaze is still clocking patrons across the room.
By the second verse, I’m smiling, even if it’s half-hearted. And by the final note, I’m laughing because I’m absolutely sure I’m the worst karaoker to ever karaoke.
But my voice was heard.
It’s a win.
The applause starts in the back, Chief’s voice followed by his signature whistle cutting through the silence until the other patrons begrudgingly give an unenthused clap.
I curtsy like a freaking idiot, then run off stage, grabbing Valen by the hand and sliding back into the safety of our booth with flushed cheeks and not nearly enough alcohol in my system.
“I did it,” I whisper.
“You did.” Valen grins, but his gaze is on the exit, and that spark of loneliness I was feeling flickers.
“I was terrible,” I say, picking at the cuticle that’s annoying me.
“You were loud and brave.”
“Were you even paying attention?” I ask as he turns his attention from one exit to the next. I focus on dragging my finger through the condensation on the water glass in front of me. “I missed like half the notes—”
“Clover.” He doesn’t say anything else until I look at him. “You were perfect.”
“You weren’t even paying attention. Your eyes were on—”
“The exits, and you. I was…”
“I know, you were protecting me.” It doesn’t sound like a compliment, and I internally scold myself for sounding so ungrateful.
I’m so out of sorts.
He curls his long fingers under my chin, and then he’s gently guiding my face up. It’s becoming a bad habit of ours—me hiding, him pulling me into the moment.
The way he’s staring at me, like I’m…precious, makes it impossible to form a coherent thought.
“Keeping you safe will always come first, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t see you. I do. I will always see you.”
Chief very loudly clears his throat. “Your turn, son.”
“What?” Valen snaps.
“Clover gets to pick your song. Them’s the rules.”
I snort out a laugh.
“Those are not the rules.”
“Yup. Already told the KJ.” Chief’s grinning like he’s won the lottery. “Better get up there.”
I’m cackling now, gasping for air. “Oh, this is happening.”
“Clover, no.”
I slide to the end of the booth and press my lips to his ear. “Valen,” I breathe. “Say yes. Five seconds of bravery, remember?”
“I hate you.” But the way he says it, with the growl low in his throat, and blatant lust in his eyes, I know it’s a lie.
“No,” I purr. “You don’t.”
Who am I tonight? More importantly, how do I become her more often? The way Valen is staring at me, like he’s undressing me one stitch at a time, is a combustible energy that doesn’t happen between just anyone.
It happens for us.
The KJ calls his name, and he slips out of the booth, shooting me a look that’s full of dark promise as we cross the room.
I can’t wait.
The song I pick is… Well, I think it’s perfect for him, and I scramble back to our booth to watch the show.
When he sees the title on the screen, his eyes narrow in on only me. “You’re mine, Honeybee.”
“Did he just say—” Chief slaps his knee and howls in laughter. “You two are too easy. Match made in heaven, I tell ya.”
I blow Valen a kiss as the first chords of Taylor Swift’s “Wood” play through the speaker.
Valen sings it. Badly. So badly the KJ puts in earplugs. He didn’t even do that when I was up there, so I feel a tad bit bad.
But he commits to the song and hits every word while searing me with his gaze and still managing to scan the exits at evenly timed intervals.
I’m crying from laughter by the second verse, thankful that Chief is recording the entire thing every time Valen gestures to his crotch with…exuberance.
The ladies in attendance are very, very appreciative of his performative dance.
When Valen returns to our table, I have yet to catch my breath.
“That was—” I choke between giggle fits. “That was the best thing I’ve ever seen.”
He leans down into the booth and presses his lips to that sensitive skin below my ear. I think my heart explodes right then and there. But then he speaks. “Payback will be my…pleasure, sweetheart.”
Oh Lordy, do I love a dirty promise.
“Worth it,” I gasp.
My insides tremble when the scruff of his jaw works against mine. Is he—did he just…smell me?
He puts an inch of space between us, his eyes glinting with stories I don’t know the ending to.
“Round two?” Chief suggests.
“Absolutely not,” Valen says.
“Duet?” I offer. I can’t believe I’m the one pushing for more.
The fear of this night with him ending is greater than the need to conquer all others, and that’s what drives me tonight. It’s this tiny glimpse into what our life could have been if only…if only life were fair.
Maybe that’s why I go in with my whole heart where Valen’s concerned.
“You’re serious?” There’s confusion in his tone, but pride in his eyes.
My teeth sink into my bottom lip, and I nod. “Please?”
He sighs. It’s long-suffering and dramatic, and when he squeezes my hand under the table, I know it’s completely for show. “Fine,” he says with a devastatingly handsome smile. “But this time, I choose the song.”
Five minutes later, we’re on stage together, and I still have no idea what song we’re singing.
“What did you do? Bribe the guy?” I ask.
Valen towers over me. “What’s the point of having billions of dollars if you can’t buy your way onto the stage once in a while?”
B-billions. “Did you just say bill—”
A low, sultry beat fills the dim bar, and suddenly, the off-key candidate for worst singer ever has found his tune as he sings The Chainsmokers’ song “Closer,” featuring Halsey.
Except this time, he doesn’t suck. This time, his voice is a raspy, silvery tone that has no place on a karaoke stage.
And he dances. Freaking dances around me like I’m the stripper pole he’s about to mount.
But it’s the wicked gleam in his eye that tells me everything’s about to change.
His hand finds mine between verses.
When I look at him, really look at him, the bar fades away.
It’s just us. The music. The sexual energy that pumps through my veins in time with the beat of this impossible moment.
I open my mouth when it’s Halsey’s turn to sing, but unlike him, I wasn’t faking my off-key solo earlier. If anything, I’m even worse this time around. Still, Valen never releases my hand.
The song ends.
Chief whistles.
We don’t move.
“Clover—”
The front door opens, and a group of people rushes in out of the cold, laughing loudly.
The karaoke, the flirting, that was all innocent enough. Holding his hand is romantic. It’s…
Everyone leaves eventually.
I have to remember that. It’s for my own good—and his. He didn’t live through the loss of us, but I did. It’s not something I can survive a second time.
“I—I need air,” I say, my lungs squeezing tight, not allowing any oxygen to pass through.
Before I can blink, I’m moving because he’s pulling me toward the door with a familiar excitement shining in his eyes.
We burst out into the parking lot hand in hand.
“You were amazing, Clover. You did it. Twice.”
“It was easier with you by my side.” Everything seems easier with him by my side.
“I get that,” he says.
I shiver, and he gently tugs me closer to him. “It’s freezing out here.”
“Come here. I’ll warm you up.” He hugs me to his side, and I swallow a sigh.
“I feel like there’s the beginnings of a dirty joke in there somewhere.”
“Oh, I have one.”
Laughter lightens my soul. “What? No, you don’t.”
“I do. When I was in the hospital.” He pauses to look over my head. “It was hard. I remembered how to read, but not how to write. I knew I could walk, but not how to sit up. It was very…isolating.”
“I can imagine.” But I can’t. Not really. I’ve always been alone, but not like that. “How did you get through it, and what does it have to do with a dirty joke?”
The lines around his mouth and eyes fade away. “My cousins. They never allowed me to be alone. Not the entire time I was in that hospital. It got so bad that Aunt Vivi eventually made an enormous donation to the hospital just so they’d let them stay with me.”
“She sounds…great.”
“She was. And so were the boys. They each took on different roles. Grant became my tutor. Roman refused to treat me any differently and would heckle the hell out of me during my PT appointments. Chase, as you can imagine, was my biggest cheerleader.”
“And Sterling?”
“Yeah, then there’s Sterling. He watched and waited to see where he would fit in.
One night, he realized I was having nightmares and couldn’t get back to sleep.
The next night, he showed up with a list of at least a thousand different jokes.
When I woke up gasping for breath, he just started reciting them until he found one that made me laugh. ”
“You’re…lucky to have them, Valen.” If only things had turned out differently…
“I am,” he agrees. “And it’s because of Sterling that I have random jokes for every occasion.”
Laughter bubbles in the back of my throat.
“You ready for it?” He rubs his hands up and down my arms, the friction heating me against the cold fall air.
“Ready.”
He turns so we’re facing each other. “What’s the difference between a gentleman and a guy who wants to kiss you?”
“Ah…”
“A gentleman asks first.” He chuckles. “And remember, Sterling told me this joke, right before the asshole planted a wet kiss right on my cheek.”
I tip my head back, overcome by happiness that wants to burst free from the corners of my eyes. This is—this is everything I’ve needed. This moment. This man. This impossible, ridiculous, perfect—
His lips press to mine, and my eyes snap open.
The world stops.
The kiss isn’t smooth. It’s not practiced. It’s just…necessary. Like breathing. Like coming home.
He pulls back to whisper against my lips. “I guess I’m not a gentleman either, but I remember this. The taste of you. The feel of you.”
And I know—I know—his body is giving back what his mind took away.
Panic and fear collide, attempting to build walls in my mind, freezing me for one second, two, three.
Then I’m kissing him back with every ounce of love and sadness and loss that I’ve kept buried for over a decade.
My hands fist in his hair as though I’m afraid he’ll disappear. It’s teeth and lips and tongue. The ever-present coldness that fills my body evaporates as every inch of me heats to unnatural temperatures. Everything I’ve been fighting, hiding from, or pushing away is forgotten.
Everything except this.
Him and me.