22. April
Chapter 22
April
F riday night arrives, and my mind spins as I get ready with the girls. Just as I expected, and as much as I hate to admit it, I’m on edge about seeing James tonight. He sent over the details about when Atlas Veil is starting their set, and we decided to arrive a bit later so we only catch their performance. After Gemma’s disastrous one-night stand last time, she’s in no hurry to arrive early and risk striking up a conversation with any men, only to end up with another dud shag.
“How are you feeling?” Gemma asks as she expertly swipes black liquid eyeliner across her eyelid.
“I’m fine. I don’t know why you keep asking me that,” I reply, twirling an auburn lock around my curling wand. I’m aiming for that clean, effortless look, which, in reality, takes me fucking ages and a boatload of products to achieve.
I rest the wand on the bathroom counter and sip my Brut Rosé champagne. Suddenly, I’m engulfed in a cloud of hairspray. My eyes dart to Anna, who’s spraying the living daylights out of her up-do. Gemma and I cough dramatically.
“Are you right?!” Gemma says, frantically waving her hand in front of her face to swat away the spray.
“My hair sure as shit is—look at this masterpiece,” Anna replies, turning her head side to side as she admires her handiwork. I huff a laugh, going back to styling my hair.
“So, do you think you’ll get a chance to talk to James tonight?” Anna asks casually, adjusting a bobby pin.
“I have no idea what to expect. I guess, if we hang around long enough,” I say, attempting to play it off as if I’m unaffected.
“CUTE!” Gemma squeals. I wince, closing an eye and turning away as her voice pierces the air.
“The other brother,” Anna says longingly, her hand over her heart.
“What?” I reply, caught off guard.
“You want the other brother,” she says matter-of-factly.
“I don’t want anyone.”
“You,” Anna starts, pointing the can of hairspray at me, “are full of shite.”
Thankfully, Gemma shifts the topic as we continue getting ready.
I slip into my ripped jeans, throw on a black silk shirt, and step into a pair of sparkly pink strappy stilettos. My hair tumbles over my shoulders in loose waves, grazing my ribs. I’ve opted for sheer, glowy, neutral make-up and have emphasised my lips with a pink glossy tint. I’ve accessorised with a sparkly bag, a thick gold chain around my neck, and matching small hoops.
I look at my reflection in the mirror, and I feel sexy in this outfit. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this confident about myself.
After polishing off our bubbly, we quickly down a shot of Dutch courage before finally jumping on the underground. I’m nicely buzzed, the warmth from the alcohol rippling through my body.
Out of the tube, the streets teem with life as people eagerly head out for their Friday night adventures. When we arrive at the Mayfair Lounge, it’s busier than I expected—hopefully, in part, because the crowd is here to see Atlas Veil. Lively chatter fills the space while groups of people dance and sing, swaying to the pulsing music on the dance floor.
We order a round of margaritas, enjoying sips of the sweet, tangy citrus as we find a free booth. Sliding in, I tap my fingers to the beat against my glass, trying to distract myself from the butterflies taking flight in my stomach.
Gemma’s voice suddenly cuts through my daze. “How are you feeling?” she asks.
“For the hundredth time, I’m fine,” I reply.
Anna scoffs, and I look at her, raising my eyebrows expectantly.
“What? We all know that when someone says they’re fine , they’re totally not fine.”
Damn it. She has a point.
“What time is he playing again?” Gemma asks.
I shrug, checking the time on my phone. “They should be on any minute now.”
The music abruptly cuts off, and partygoers turn their heads towards the main stage, now illuminated by spotlights. Anna nudges my knee with her own, playfully pumping her eyebrows. Gemma laughs, and I roll my eyes, unable to keep from smiling. These girls have been my lifeline these past few months—the sunshine after the rain.
Then, a voice booms through the speakers.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please give it up for our favourite band, Atlas Veil!”
The crowd erupts in cheers and applause as the band approaches the stage.
“There he is,” Anna says, nudging my knee again.
“I have eyes, Anna—I can see,” I reply, as heat flushes my body.
“You’re turning red,” Gemma says, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She leans closer, pointing an accusatory finger at me. “It’s so cute that you have a crush!”
I touch my hands to my cheeks, trying to hide the flush. “Shut up, it’s the alcohol and my rosacea—you know this,” I protest, though I can’t help but smile at Gemma’s teasing.
It’s definitely not alcohol or a skin condition.
I turn back and watch as Tom occupies centre stage, adjusting the microphone stand while he flicks his long, black hair out of his eyes. The other band members position themselves at their instruments, and my gaze fixes on James. He runs his fingers through his sandy waves, and I notice he’s forgone his usual leather jacket tonight. Instead, he’s wearing only dark jeans and a charcoal T-shirt that shows off his thick biceps and veiny forearms. The top stretches tightly across his strong-set shoulders, fitting him like a second skin.
Reaching into his front pocket, he retrieves his guitar pick, then slings the bass strap over his shoulder, ready to pluck the strings.
Holy shit . This man is a walking wet dream.
“Okay, April. I know he’s your ex-fiancé’s brother and I’m married, but it has to be said—the guy looks like he can fuck,” Anna says.
“What?” I ask, taken aback.
“Just look at him. You can’t deny the man is a total sex god,” Anna says.
“I second that,” Gemma chimes in.
“I guess I can see what you mean,” I say, playing it cool, taking a long, thoughtful sip. As I lower my glass, James lifts his head and his eyes meet mine. The corner of his mouth twitches and his eyes light up. He shoots me a subtle nod before shifting his focus back to the bass.
Anna and Gemma exchange a knowing look. My best friends can see right through me. I can deny it until I’m blue in the face, but I can’t argue the fact that he’s gorgeous, or that I find him irresistible.
“Okay, fine. I agree. He’s a total sex god.”
Does that make me a bad person? Ever since we bumped into each other at the café, James has occupied my mind. It doesn’t matter what I’m doing, my thoughts seek him out. The way I’m drawn to him terrifies me—it’s magnetic, consuming, something totally unlike what I felt with Lucas.
And that’s what scares me most.
If it didn’t work out, if I was just another fleeting moment to him, another night easily discarded, could I handle it? He’s never been in a relationship as long as I’ve known him. Could he break my heart just as deeply, just as carelessly?
My eyes flit over the stage as Oliver starts twirling his drumsticks while Will grips the neck of his guitar, opening and closing his hand in preparation to play.
Tom introduces the band, and the bar bursts with applause as Oliver launches into his drum intro before the rest of the guys step in.
The energy in the room surges, and I glance around, taking in the sight of everyone’s beaming faces. James bobs his head slightly as he plucks the strings, the veins in his hands working as he skilfully runs his fingers along the bass frets.
We finish our margaritas and order a round of gin and tonics, and Gemma tugs me towards the dance floor. As the music pulses, I sway my hips and sing along, letting the rhythm take over. Anna throws her arms up and moves effortlessly with the beat. I tilt my head back and allow the music to consume me. My mind is free. I feel peace.
I seize the moment, embracing the sense of worthiness that comes from knowing I deserve real love and happiness—a love like my parents shared and the unwavering happiness my best friends bring into my life. Tonight, I let go of the past and allow myself to truly live again.
Sweat glistens on my skin as we dance. I face the stage and catch James’s eyes watching me, strong as steel. His gaze roves over me with an intense, almost ravenous look that makes my heart murmur. I offer him a smile and lift my glass in a silent toast. The breath is nearly knocked out of me when he returns the gesture with a dazzling smile. I’m talking dimple-deepening, pulse-accelerating, megawatt smile.
“You are so screwed,” Gemma says, shouting in my ear over the music, and I quickly turn my attention to her.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“You two can’t keep your eyes off each other.”
“It’s not like that,” I say.
“April, the sexual tension between you is about as subtle as a boner at church,” Anna yells over the music.
“We’re not giving you a hard time,” Gemma says, touching my forearm. “There’s nothing wrong with it. In fact, it’s lovely. I’m just saying you don’t have to deny it anymore. There’s clearly something between you two.” Her gaze darts between James and me.
I glance back at James and find him still watching me. Mulling over their words, I step away.
“I’ll be back,” I tell them. I swing by the bar and catch the bartender’s eye, ordering a tequila shot and downing it quickly before zipping to the bathroom to freshen up. After washing my hands, I reapply my gloss and tousle my hair until I’m satisfied with my reflection. Feeling sure of myself, I straighten, shoulders pulled back, push open the bathroom door, and step into the hallway, ready to return to the dance floor—only to slam right into what feels like a solid brick wall.
Scratch that—a chest.
A hard, sweaty chest.
“Ooft,” I mutter on impact.
Two large hands grip my shoulders, steadying me.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to run into—” I look up, staring into pools of sea glass as James ducks his chin to read my expression. “I was just heading back to the girls,” I say.
“Are you okay?”
Ah. That velvet-smooth, deep voice.
“I’m fine, thank you,” I say, adjusting my shirt and necklace.
He nods, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I’m glad you came. You look …” He clears his throat. “You look great.”
“Thank you,” I say, casting my eyes down nervously.
“You’re blushing,” he says with a glint in his eyes, and I instinctively clap my hands over my cheeks.
“I am not blushing. I have rosacea. It’s the tequila.”
“Of course.” He rolls his lip between his teeth to hide a smug smile.
“I thought you were playing,” I say, throwing a thumb over my shoulder.
“We did. We’re finished now.”
“That was quick.”
“Well, we played for three hours.”
“Oh,” I say, surprised. I was so caught up dancing that I hadn’t even noticed how quickly the time had passed.
His eyes pierce mine. “You looked like you were having a good time out there.”
My heart is beating like a drum. “It was fun. Thank you for inviting me tonight. It was just what I needed.”
“I’m glad. It’s good to see you enjoying yourself,” he says, his voice softening before he nods towards a door at the end of the hallway. “Do you want to come out back while I pack up?”
The invitation hangs in the air.
Of course I’m fucking going.
“Sure, I’d love to.”