Chapter 10 #2
He holds me between himself and the girl like a police barricade. I struggle to remain on my feet and keep the physical contact to a believable minimum, but he’s not one to miss an opportunity.
I nearly faint when he nuzzles my neck, inhaling slowly as he brushes a feather-soft kiss across my cheek and whispers against my ear, “Mmm, peaches. You look amazing.” Red’s pleasant expression slowly fades when he pulls me until I practically fall in his lap.
I brace myself with one arm around his neck like it belongs there. “Relax. I got you.”
Dearly beloved … I’m in his lap. This routine isn’t entirely unchartered territory, but it’s more. It’s either a fake real or a real fake and—
I mean … I’m just … I …
I’m in so much trouble.
My eyes won’t focus.
Am I high?
“Best birthday ever.” His breath tickling my ear is definitely causing some level of inebriation. There’s no way she can hear him, so his words aren’t for her benefit.
He’s messing with me.
His soft, warm mouth and a bit of stubble touched my actual face that time. Not the top of my head or licking my hand like a weirdo.
HE. KISSED. MY. FACE.
Somehow, the rules of engagement have changed. He’s playing dirty, and he knows it.
Help.
Grasping for some semblance of control, my incorrigible alter-ego tells me now would be a good time to run my fingers through his freshly cut hair.
This is war. No mercy.
“Hey, I’m Lucy.” I smile at my would-be nemesis and try to keep my voice from sounding affection-drunk as I slowly twirl his hair between my fingers. “Have you been here before?”
Am I talking really fast?
He just played hopscotch over every muddy line we ever had, and there will be payback. The worst part is how effortless this whole act is once I stop fighting it.
As far as Red’s concerned, I have no reason not to be friendly. There’s no competition, and if there were, it would appear I’ve already won.
His breaths stop then start again with a grunt and rough exhale. I try not to laugh when he leans into my hand. My nails comb down the back of his head, through the layers of still-longish hair, gripping with a slight tug at the base of his neck, when five distinct fingertips tighten on my thigh.
Well, butter my backside and call me a biscuit. When did that get there?
I might know a thing or two about this guy. He’ll be functionally mute for a minute, but my revenge won’t come without a price—probably my sanity.
Oh, well. He started it.
I just hope I survive it.
He claims we don’t keep score, but if we did, this point goes to … dang it, I don’t know anymore. I barely remember my own name.
What are we doing?
“I’m Tabitha. I’m third-wheeling with my cousin and her boyfriend.” She seems to have adjusted her game plan from flirting to making friends as she points to a cute, nerdy-looking couple at a small table on the other side of the room. “I don’t know anyone else. I just transferred here.”
“Nice to meet you, Tabitha. Where are you from? You look too young to be a transfer.”
“I’m nineteen—a sophomore. I’m from Greensboro, but I transferred from Memphis. That place was disturbing.” She laughs.
I felt a little stabby at first, but she’s harmless.
Pretending to lay claim to Daniel shouldn’t come this easily. I practically peed on him like a dog marking my territory without thinking twice, and now he’s slumped against me with his chin on my shoulder. What do I tell the guys? “Sorry I broke your bass player.”
Is he growling? I turn to him for the briefest glance and catch his expressionless gaze drop to my mouth before returning to my eyes. I suck in a breath and tap the back of his head, hoping he interprets it as knock it off.
“Yeah,” I squeak. “I can imagine. I’m a junior, but I’ve been taking the scenic route. I’m twenty-three. I’ll try to introduce you to my roommate, Annie, when she gets here. She’s close to your age. And you’ve got to meet Sam.” I nod toward the drums. “He’s cute … and single.”
And noisy, thank goodness. I can’t do this much longer.
Tabitha follows the sound until she finds the big guy, then pops her head back to me with wide eyes.
“Isn’t he pretty?” I give her a knowing smile. Daniel sits up straighter, tickling my side until I laugh. “I prefer long hair and tattoos, myself, but if Sam wanted to hold a puppy while shirtless, I’d let him be in my calendar.”
That earns me a hard squeeze on the sensitive spot just above my knee, and I squeal. I’m just being obnoxious to get a rise out of him, not that any lies have been told where the golden boy is concerned.
Sam’s adorable, but the only Sam I think of as hot is the fictional demon-fighting one on the show Supernatural. And ironically, DC looks a lot like …
I should probably salt and burn this whole train of thought.
I try to remind myself that I have—had?—a perfectly nice-looking fiancé, but he’d never let me get between him and any source of attention.
Even when I thought things were good, he never missed a chance to chat up a waitress or old friends without acknowledging my presence.
“You don’t get it,” he’d say. “I grew up around here. People respect my family, and I was a state champion in high school.” He was right about one thing: I don’t get it.
Nothing about Nathan feels like a relationship. He wants to keep tabs on me, but he doesn’t want me. And let’s not forget he hung up on me when I needed his help.
Tabitha’s cracking up, watching us harass each other. I don’t suppose I need to hate her, as long as she directs her attention away from the no-fly zone.
Daniel’s breath puffs against my ear again, hair falling recklessly over his face. “It’s a good thing I know pretty’s not your type.”
Chills visibly erupt over my arms as I shrug the tingles from my ear and try to maintain some composure. I feel him laugh as he kisses my head, his trance apparently broken when he stands us both up, keeping an arm around me.
“Okay, that’s quite enough out of you, McSpicy. Tabitha, it was nice to meet you, but Lucy needs to save her voice and all this attitude. I hope you enjoy the music.”
He gives her a polite nod and reaches for the midnight-blue Fender P-bass he calls The Dark Knight. It’s gorgeous and a little mysterious. I don’t get to hear it much since it’s not really necessary for sing-alongs on the porch steps.
All the guys are excellent guitarists, but DC plays the bass like an extension of his personality. It’s the instrument I know the least about and have the most admiration for.
“Can I?” I ask.
“Sure.” He places it in my hands, and I’m surprised it’s only a little heavier than my six-string. I admire the moody ombre color up close for a minute before I catch him watching me. “I’ll teach you if you want to learn.”
“Oh, I’m sure you would.” I smirk, beyond pleased when his grin turns wry.
“I was referring to music, but whatever you have in mind.” He winks. “You can put it by the drums if you can handle being that close to Sam, Punk.”
“I’ll try but no promises. He’s, like, soooo hot.” I fan myself dramatically before I set his baby on the stand. He points two fingers at his narrowed eyes and back at me as he walks away.
“Sammyyy!” I yell in my gruffest Dean Winchester voice, and he grins his big, goofy smile when he spots me.
“Lu Lu!” he shouts, hopping off his stool and down one step to hug me with a bone-crushing grip that lifts me two feet off the ground.
DC’s around six-one and solid—significantly bigger than me—but Sam’s a giant lanky tower. The golden retriever is always so happy to see everyone, he nearly tramples us on sight.
We became instant family last fall, but when he was at Daniel and Jace’s house practicing over Christmas break, it snowed a few inches, so he stayed through New Year’s.
Tennessee’s not well equipped for snow, so no one left.
When their heat went out, we pooled our groceries, and I cooked for all of us while we alternated singing, playing board games, and watching TV at our place for three days.
I kept waiting to feel smothered and annoyed, but we mostly got along fine.
Some of us better than others, but as always, no lines were crossed.
Jace and Annie fell asleep early the first night, but Daniel, Sam, and I watched an entire season of Supernatural. My slight obsession was exposed.
Now, when we see Sam, everyone has to yell “Sammy!” as if he’s in grave danger.
Okay, it’s just me.
The volume of the crowd steadily increases and so does my energy. I want to let everything go for a while. Tonight, my inner Dean is showing.
I think I’m adorable, and I’m ready to have some fun.
Sam leans down for me to mess up his hair for good luck, then runs off to chase something shiny, so I grab a chair and catch up with Jace.
“Tune the Fender, Cupcake. You been practicing?” He points to my favorite as he reaches over to hit a key on the piano. I’m proud of this job, especially since someone as talented and absurdly neurotic as Jace trusts me to do it.
“Nope, not really,” I admit.
This is about the extent of my expertise, but I took a few lessons, and my ear’s good enough to match the E he plays. He down-tunes a Gibson while I standard-tune the mystic surf green Telecaster. They have a ridiculous amount of gear for an unpaid gig situation.
Jace puts in a ton of hours at the hospital, so we haven’t seen each other much. Limited exposure is probably best anyway. Where Daniel’s laid-back and controlled, Jace is uptight with an opinion about everything.
All the check-ins and unsolicited advice make him seem older than twenty-five. I know the radiology program is intense, and it’s his second attempt, but I miss the old irreverently funny Jace. He’s still irreverent and mostly funny, but the long hours have made him recklessly uncensored.