Chapter 6
Chapter six
Drake
The night of the concert arrived fast. Probably because I had two long shifts beforehand, which sucked any remaining attention I might’ve devoted to excitement.
Those two shifts had been hell. A bunch of folks had collectively decided to commit arson on the same weekend, which meant a lot of mess to handle on our part.
However, I was thrilled to go to the Dropkick concert, even if it was close to a two-hour drive to Asbury Park, New Jersey.
The Convention Hall was a venue I’d always wanted to go to, and sure, it was a haul for a weeknight, but I didn’t mind.
Not like I had anyone waiting for me, and I wanted to chase the spark of excitement that flared in me as I soared up the Jersey Turnpike.
As long as I found the guy with the ticket. Serena had given me the number, and he’d told me he’d text when he got there and wait outside, that he’d be wearing a Flyers cap. Which wasn’t as standout as I wanted, given plenty of Philly folks would be there.
I rolled down the window and drank in the cool breeze that arrived with the oncoming night.
Adrenaline pumped through my veins, pulsing from the upcoming adventure, from soaring down the highway, from breaking out of the cycle of work and home I’d been stuck in lately.
The green and white exit signs flashed by, mine coming closer and closer.
The other cars zoomed around me just as fast, the hum of the other cars tangible in the air. The concert offered the distraction I needed. I’d hit a wall with my plans for the fire station fundraiser, and it churned up a lot of old frustrations.
That Serena had gotten straight A’s through school while I scraped by.
That Blair had excelled at sports while I was passable.
Mediocre was all I’d ever be, and I was sick of my status quo.
My exit arrived faster than planned, and I tossed the blinker on as I merged.
All too fast, the sprawl of Asbury Park came into view, the gorgeous murals marking buildings and the glitter of the ocean in the distance.
Fuck, how long had it been since I’d gone to the beach?
I let out a low whistle and turned down the road to find parking near the convention hall.
It cut a mark on the landscape, the brick building accented by pale trim.
I jittered as though I’d downed more than a cup of coffee before leaving.
I didn’t mind going to concerts alone, but I’d feel more secure about it once I got the ticket.
Why couldn’t Serena have grabbed it herself? I’d have to bug her about that later.
I hopped out of the car and drank in a taste of the salt-soaked air.
Being this close to the beach sparked my soul to life and awakened me in a way I’d missed.
Not that I was a Jersey Shore for the summer sort of guy—hell, I wasn’t even a summer kind of guy—but a sense of gravity settled over me tonight, something I’d been chasing.
I shot a text to the number of the guy I was supposed to meet as I made my way up to the convention hall.
The mint-green entrance stood out from farther down the boardwalk, and to my right, the ocean sprawled out before me, dazzling against the hazy, golden evening sun.
The last bursts of light gilded the tops of the waves, as soon night would steal it away.
I ran fingers through my hair, mussing up the product I’d run through it after my shower.
People streamed in through the doors of the convention hall, but I scanned for folks waiting outside. Several groups clustered around the area, people catching up and talking, and some leaned against the wall of the place.
My gaze stopped on a guy with a Flyers cap, his head tilted down as he stared at his phone.
He seemed my age and in shape, wearing a plain black tee and form-fitting jeans.
I had on similar attire: a gray tank top, blue flannel, and beat-up jeans along with my shitkickers.
I quickened my pace as I cut across the boardwalk in his direction.
And then he looked up.
Our eyes met, and recognition slammed in.
Kind of hard to forget the guy whose kitchen you stopped from burning down.
And the one I’d been guiltily fantasizing about ever since.
Was Serena trying to kill me?
August’s eyes crinkled as a huge grin spread across his features, and my heart sped up. “Hey, Drake! What are you doing here?”
I swallowed hard and lifted up my phone, as if that’d somehow explain it. “Looks like you’re the guy I’m getting my ticket from.”
August tilted his head to the side for a second, and his eyes widened.
“No shit. You’re the one taking Serena’s place?
” Strands of his honey-colored hair poked out from under the hat, and the way it accentuated his square jaw made him hotter.
The guy had a laid-back vibe I enjoyed far too much, and with his golden, tanned skin, honey-blond hair, and hazel eyes, everything about him felt kissed by the sun.
“Yeah, shit,” I said. “We probably should’ve exchanged names. That would’ve cleared things up at once.”
“Do you want to hang with me at the concert?” August asked and then scrubbed his face with his palms. “I mean, you can do whatever you want with the ticket. I just… don’t usually do concerts by myself.”
My chest squeezed tight. Was spending more time around August a good idea? No, not in the slightest. But I couldn’t turn him down. Not with the slight pleading look in his eyes and the fact I did want to join him for the concert. I flashed him a grin. “What are you waiting for?”
He blinked at me for a moment. “Is that a yes?”
I clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Hell yes. Let’s go.” I regretted the touch at once. Electricity sparked through my veins, awakening my synapses. August didn’t move my hand off though, and I hesitated before pulling it back. The bright smile he gave me in return made my pulse kick.
“I didn’t even realize Serena had a Dropkick Murphys ticket,” I said as we walked in through the entrance. “I’d been wanting to go to this show.”
“Love the band,” he said. “Though she wasn’t as keen on going. More of a pity acceptance, I think.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “Serena’s more a swoony acoustics sort of girl.”
“This is a far reach from that,” August chuckled as we stepped inside.
The convention hall was massive, with a sweeping ceiling, small restaurants, and shops on either side.
Footsteps and chatter echoed around us from the crowd funneling toward the concert venue area, the sounds bouncing around the space.
This close to August, I caught a whiff of him, all sage and cedar.
His body emanated heat, like standing under a patch of sunlight, and I couldn’t seem to pull away.
August strode up to the check-in, and I followed close behind. A guy scanned the tickets on his phone, gave us our bands, and we stepped through the gated area.
“Want to go grab a drink?” he asked. “My treat, since I’m forcing you to hang out with me.”
“First, off,” I responded, “no forcing required. I’m here of my own volition. And secondly, if you keep buying me drinks, you’ll have a hard time getting rid of me.”
“Oh, good,” he said. “Then that’s the plan.” He flashed me another guileless grin, and damn, I couldn’t tell if he flirted or just wanted a friend. Though friends could fuck too.
Bad. Bad idea.
Serena’s ex.
Our hands brushed, and a thrill rippled up my spine again. The temptation to reach over and hold his hand was a new one—especially since that hadn’t been my MO. Not in a long while.
We headed to the nearest bar and took a seat at the stools. The show wasn’t going to start for another half hour, and it’d be awhile before the headliners too. I had to admit, I’d checked out Triple R’s work beforehand, a political punk band, and I’d wanted to watch them live.
“Two lagers,” August ordered at the bar, leaning over in a way that made his ass pop. Ngh. He had the sort of ass that would steal attention in any room, two round, utterly biteable globes, even with the denim barrier. Fuuuck. Maybe I should’ve gone for a Grindr hookup instead of a concert.
Except I couldn’t deny I was already having fun, and it had everything to do with an adventure and the hottie beside me.
August paid, then passed one of the pints my way.
“I’ve got us next time,” I said, before I could help myself.
“You know that’s a binding contract to hang out with me again,” he said, a teasing glint in his eyes.
I licked my lips. I wanted that, even if this was a bad idea.
“Deal.” I took a sip of the lager and let the cool liquid course through me, though it did little to dampen the flames that danced through my insides.
Meeting a hot guy at a punk show had been a long-held fantasy of mine.
Of picking someone up in the crowd, finding somewhere private afterward, and losing myself in him.
As much as I’d gone to shows in the past, that had never worked out.
It wasn’t as easy as picking up someone in a gay club, where all it took was a look and a nod.
Except now those fantasies spun out of control.
Because I was at a show with a guy my whole body reacted to, who I genuinely liked being around, but at the same time, jumping in on the guy Serena broke things off with... yeah, that would be such a shit move.
Even if I wanted to.
I might’ve left my bad boy rep back in high school, but I wasn’t a shithead. Just… sometimes I made some reckless decisions.
And sometimes I made those reckless decisions on purpose, just to feel alive.
I chugged the rest of my beer to keep myself from staring at August’s ass. I got the vibe he wasn’t straight, especially from some comments he dropped, but that didn’t mean he was interested.
“I need this tonight so damn badly,” August muttered as he drank another gulp of beer.
“What’s going on?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.
“My folks are moving,” he said, leaning back against the bar. He took another swig. “They dropped the news on me a few days ago.”
I let out a low whistle. “You guys are close, I take it?”
August’s nose wrinkled. “Not like… in an incestuous way, but I spend a lot of time over at their house. Which is now being sold.”
The laugh exploded from me. “Didn’t assume the incest, but thanks for the clarification.” There was something odd about him that I appreciated, his responses both direct and roundabout in the same breath. His mind intrigued me as much as his body, and that was a rarity.
August placed his empty glass on the bar beside mine. “Let’s head in. I’m dying to see the openers.”
My heart thumped in double-time, and when he stepped past me, his shoulder brushed against mine again. Pure electricity.
I followed him out of the bar, and we made our way into the concert venue, where the darkened room was packed with bodies.
The scent of sweat and ozone filtered through, a unique one I always associated with concerts.
A large section of the front had filled in, tons of people all ready to wreak havoc in the mosh pit.
As much as I wanted to join them, I wouldn’t bounce back like I would’ve ten years ago.
“Mind if we head up here?” August asked, pointing to the farther back section elevated with risers.
“The old guys’ section?” I teased.
“If that makes me old, I’ll embrace my ancient, weathered years,” August said.
He peeled up his sleeve to showcase a film on his bicep over what looked like fresh ink.
“If someone knocks into me while this is healing, not only will it hurt like a bitch, but I don’t want a gash to wreck my new tattoo. ”
“What is it?” I asked, casting a cursory glance. The figure was hard to tell, since there was some bleed beneath the second skin overtop it.
“A Charmander.”
My brows drew together. “You got a Pokemon on you?” My pulse quickened.
“Hey, no tattoo shaming on my watch,” he said. “I know some folks, even at my work, get snooty about choices, but I don’t judge anyone. It makes me happy, and that’s all that matters.”
“No, no,” I said, pausing beside one of the chairs. I peeled up my pant leg to show him my calf. “No shaming at all.”
August let out a surprised laugh. “Bulbasaur? Nice.”
I shrugged, even though the coincidence lit sparklers inside me. “I wanted to test the waters with getting inked, and I was a longtime Pokemon fan.”
“Here, move in,” he said. “We might as well take a spot here.”
I shuffled in closer and plunked into one of the seats, which felt a bit lamer than throwing myself into the pit with the rest of the crowd. We could always move around if needed. Yet, when August sat beside me, his arm brushed against mine, and he didn’t pull away. Energy rippled through my veins.
Never mind, this was plenty exciting.
“Is everyone ready for a show?” A guy strode onto the stage, and the spotlights zeroed in on him. The crowd erupted in shouts, and I soaked in the passion, the vibration in the air. “I know we’re not Dropkick, but hopefully we can tide you over.”
The lights brightened on the stage, revealing the setup for Three R’s, and the lead singer took his place at the microphone.
“We’re gonna kick things off Three R’s style. Ready for the revolution?”
A loud roar erupted through the place in response.
My nerves ignited—from the show, from the promise of this night…
And from the man beside me.