Chapter 3
Knox
The couple onstage is drawing all my attention. A few songs in, and it became clear they’re the karaoke favorites. But as the next song begins, the guy looks at his girlfriend with panic in his eyes, causing her to race to his side, whispering something in his ear.
As the song progresses, Lauren disappears beside me, and I become mesmerized as the singer’s voice cracks with emotion.
He’s singing with his entire half-naked body.
His eyes are closed as he grips the microphone like he’s afraid it’ll disappear just like the person in the song.
His free arm thrashes and swings in rhythm to the beat whose lyrics are hitting me square in the chest. At one point, he drops to his knees on the stage, and I know, behind those closed eyelids, he’s singing to someone who hurt him. Someone who left him.
And I feel that like a punch to the throat.
Maybe someone did punch me because it’s a little hard to breathe.
But I can’t tell if it’s the song, this performance, or the guy singing it that’s getting under my skin. Probably a combination of all three.
Lauren taps my shoulder to get my attention, but I put my hand up. I don’t want to be interrupted and risk missing a second of this.
A couple minutes later, the song ends, and the light catches a tear rolling down the singer’s cheek. I don’t even know the kid, but I’d love to hurt whoever made him feel like this.
Feel like me.
He’s too young, too pretty, and too fragile to have been hurt like this.
The entire bar jumps to their feet, clapping and cheering as he whispers a broken thank you into the microphone.
The girl onstage throws her arms around him, squeezing him tightly.
I half expect her to shove her tongue down his throat, but she makes no attempt to do so.
She says something, and he nods, before making his way off the stage, much to the crowd’s displeasure.
“My brother just needs a quick break, but we’ll be back!” the girl announces.
Brother.
That explains why my expectation of the kiss was wrong…but it doesn’t explain the relief coursing through me.
I must need calories.
After being on-call at the fire station the last two nights and working overtime on a jobsite, I haven’t been taking great care of myself. I’ve barely had time to take a piss let alone eat a full meal. Huh, I guess it’s possible Stephanie made the right call…even if I don’t like it.
As the brother and sister weave through the crowd, I swivel on my barstool to watch them.
“Cute, aren’t they?” Lauren’s voice in my ear is accompanied by her hand on my forearm. My personal space boundaries are wider than most, and the fuck-off look I tend to wear keeps most people at bay.
But not Lauren.
“What?” I ask stupidly, my eyes still following him.
“The singers,” she clarifies. “Aren’t they precious?” she asks again.
“Oh, uh, yeah,” I stammer, finally turning to look at my bar mate. Confusion slams into me as my gaze traces her features.
She isn’t the one I want to watch.
Something about the guy from the stage has me hooked, and my attention quickly travels back to him.
It’s probably his pain.
Misery loves company, as they say.
“You mind watching my drink for a second?” I abruptly ask Lauren. “I need to use the restroom.” I’m already planting a foot on the ground by the time she agrees.
Pushing the door to the bathroom open, I step inside and slump against the wall.
This was a stupid idea. I came. I drank.
I conversed. Fuck the three-hour part of the pact.
This night is taking a weird turn, and although I’m supposed to be doing something out of the ordinary, being enthralled by a guy half my age is too far.
Being enthralled by a guy at all is too far.
I groan internally. This is what I get for having attractive gay friends.
I’m considering splashing cold water on my face to restart my brain when the door opens and in walks the guy from the stage.
I inhale sharply in surprise, and he looks up from his phone.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his voice deeper than it was when he sang.
I nod like an asshole, unable to find words.
Up close, he’s even prettier than I’d originally thought. His sandy blond hair and freckles make him appear innocent, even though his body screams sinful. His shirt’s still off and I can’t tear my eyes away from the cut of his abs.
No wonder the people in this place lost their damn minds.
He steps up to the urinal, and I distract myself by washing my shaking hands. What the fuck is wrong with me?
As I stare at my reflection in the mirror, I clench my jaw.
The silence feels bloated and awkward. The kid probably doesn’t even notice. He certainly doesn’t seem bothered.
But when he looks over and catches me staring at him, I have to say something. I’m basically ogling the guy while he’s taking a leak, for fuck’s sake.
“Nice performance,” I say, averting my pervy eyes even as I hear the smile in his voice.
“Thanks. Never been asked to do more than one or two, but they offered free drinks for songs. Who am I to turn that down?”
He’s trying to keep it light, but I can tell something is weighing on him. He’s too nonchalant…and I’m too familiar with the pain I saw on that stage.
“Just don’t drink too much and end up in the hospital,” I tell him. “Kinda ruins the fun.” If the first responder in me hadn’t piped up, the natural protector in me would have. There’s no way I couldn’t issue the warning.
The guy zips his pants and moves to stand next to me at the sink.
“If I do, maybe they’ll put us in beds next to each other while they treat you for all the skin you’re rubbing off your fingers,” he says, nodding at the angry pink skin on my hands. “Jesus, man.” He laughs. “What’d you touch?”
I shut the water off. “Uh, nothing,” I stutter. I have never been nervous during an interaction. What is it about this guy that has my brain set to idiot?
To my utter mortification, he catches me staring again. Of course he does. I’m too transfixed on his abs to notice that he’s watching me until it’s too late.
“See something you like?” he asks in a flirty tone, propping a hip against the sink as he dries his hands.
His words act like a cattle prod, and my eyes snap to his.
He’s wearing a grin that’s sexy as fuck, and the pain I thought I’d noticed earlier has been replaced with amusement. To my absolute horror, my dick twitches in my jeans.
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?
Before I can come up with an answer, the door crashes open again. This time, a woman enters the men’s bathroom with a hand thrown over her eyes.
“Taylor! Are you still in here?”
“Jesus, Liv, get the fuck out of here!” Taylor laughs at his sister, trying to push her out the door.
She latches onto him and peeks through her fingers.
Seeing her brother, she drops her hand from her face, and then spots me.
An angry look quickly coasts across her features, as if my presence in the men’s room really pisses her off.
“Oh, sorry,” she says to me, not sounding sorry at all, before turning back to her brother. “Come on! Shake it once, and let’s get back out there. They’re calling for you!” she says happily.
Something ugly wells inside me at the thought of Taylor going back out there to appease all those strangers.
Or you’re pissed because your moment got cut short.
Taylor meets my eyes as his sister pulls him from the bathroom.
“Next one’s for you. Enjoy the show,” he says. And then the fucker winks at me.
And the twitch I felt before is now a full-blown hard-on.