Chapter 34
KATIE
After one drink at a hotel bar—a Diet Coke only for me—Seth suggests we check out an amazing open-mic night. I tell him “amazing” and “open-mic night” should not be used in the same sentence.
We approach the bar around nine p.m. It’s a quaint, gray-shingled building with a metal door that’s covered in stickers. Even from here, I can hear music pulsing. Seth raises both brows, then pulls open the door.
Hot, beer-scented sound pours out. The music is a tangible thing.
I step inside from cool June night to thick, humid darkness.
I inhale, then grin at Seth. This is a bar for doing shots and getting into trouble, and I’ve never done that, but maybe I’ll start.
Maybe I’ll make out with Seth on the dance floor.
The memory of how well Tristan kissed me zips through me, but I push it away. I don’t want to think about Tristan right now.
The man on stage croons about how he hopes he doesn’t fall in love with the person he’s singing about. I nearly tell Seth I want a real drink, but before I can speak, the performer strums the final lines and murmurs, “Thank you.”
I freeze a half step to the bar, where Seth is getting us drinks, then spin slowly, which is satisfyingly crisp in my heels.
I know that voice. My eyes find the man on the small stage under the single spotlight.
His ball cap is pulled low and his outfit is one I’ve seen him wear exactly once before—faded jeans, a black shirt, and black boots.
I can’t see his eyes, but I can see the full tilt of his mouth, the shadowed edge of his jaw, and the set of his broad shoulders.
When he lifts his eyes to the crowd, he doesn’t see me with how we’re tucked in the back, but I see him.
Tristan fucking Prince.