Chapter 10 #2
As the night goes on, though, he gets bolder. He leans into me, touches me, and teases me. It could be friendly banter, but when you’re in love with someone, it’s hard not to take things like that to heart.
Does he even realize how much it hurts every time he turns that wide grin on me and touches my arm?
“Dance with me?” he pleads abruptly. It’s something we did all the time before.
“No, I’m okay,” I reply and see the shock in his eyes as the rejection sets in. I don’t want to hurt him, but I can’t dance with his hands all over me and mine all over him like nothing is different between us. It would be crossing the line he drew, and I won’t do that again.
I’ve been burnt enough.
“Please, Foxy?” he implores. “We can burn it up like old times?—”
“I’m good,” I interrupt. I don’t need a trip down memory lane, especially not tonight when I’m already on edge. If I danced with him, I’d end up taking it too far.
He looks so crestfallen, I have to avert my eyes, and Dash laughs awkwardly. “How about I dance with you?”
“Sure,” Ry agrees, but he looks back at me as they walk to the dance floor.
“You did the right thing,” Strike murmurs.
“I know.” I down my drink. “I’m going to get another.” I leave Strike there, but by the time I’m halfway to the bar, he’s surrounded by others again. My eyes find Dash and Ry as they dance and laugh on the floor before I focus on the bar and lean against the sticky top.
Someone moves to my right, waiting to order as well. I place mine and wait. When my beer appears, I grab it just as someone backs into me on my left. My beer tips, falling all over the person on my right.
“Shit, sorry.” I grab some napkins and wipe the man’s arm. He chuckles, the warm sound making my head jerk up and my eyes widen.
Shit. He’s fucking pretty.
“Thank you.”
I blink. He has bright green eyes, wavy, shoulder-length blond hair, and a muscular build with a killer smile. He’s not my usual type, but damn he’s hot.
“Fuck, I said that out loud, didn’t I?” I mutter.
“You did, but I liked it. Don’t worry.” He gives me a crooked grin. “I’m Team.”
“Team?” I echo.
He laughs. “I know. My parents were hippies and thought it was funny. What’s your name?”
I blink in surprise. “You don’t recognize me?” I’m not arrogant. It’s just a fact that we tend to get recognized a lot, and it’s tiring.
How do you know if someone is getting close for real or as an act?
“Sorry, I’m kind of a hermit, so I don’t recognize you,” he replies, and fuck if that isn’t attractive. This isn’t someone trying to align themselves with me. It’s a genuine interaction, and maybe that’s why I relax.
“Fox, my name’s Fox,” I tell him with a grin.
“Well, Fox, let me replace that beer.” Before I can speak, he holds his hand up and orders for me.
“You didn’t have to,” I say.
“It was totally my fault.” He winks. “Besides, I want to buy you a drink. Are you here alone?”
“Oh, smooth. Trying to find out if I’m single?” I chuckle, leaning into the bar.
“Maybe. Is it working?” He leans closer as the music thumps.
“I’m here with my band. You?”
“Oh, now the tables are turning.” He takes a drink from a wine glass as he runs his eyes down my body before meeting mine again. “I’m single, no bodies—figuratively or literally—in my past, not closeted, and definitely your type.”
“Cocky. I didn’t ask for all that.” I smirk as I take a sip of my beer.
“Just getting it out there in case you were interested.” He leans closer, opening his mouth, when someone suddenly appears between us, shoving us apart.
“I’m thirsty.” Ry presses between us, his back to Team, and drains my beer before wiping his mouth. “Come dance.”
“I’m good here. You go on,” I say, frowning at my bottle and then him.
“I’m thirsty too.” Dash grins from his side and downs Team’s drink before dragging Ry back to the dance floor, but his eyes are on me the entire time. I watch them go before turning to Team, surprised he didn’t run away.
“Sorry about them,” I mutter. “Let me get you another.”
“It’s okay. They seem fun,” he remarks, “and I’m not easily scared off.”
“You sure there aren’t any bodies in your past? You aren’t a serial killer, are you?” I tease.
“No, but I might eat you alive if you ask nicely,” he flirts.
Fuck.
I almost choke on air, so I turn away to hide my surprised blush, and when I turn back, he’s grinning. “So, Fox, are we going to stand at the bar all night, or can I make you sit with me?”
“Ask nicely,” I retort as I hand him his drink. I realize I’m flirting, and it feels . . . good. He isn’t doing it for an act. He looks fucking interested.
He might just be the distraction I need. Besides, Ry is definitely taking someone home tonight, so maybe it’s time I do as well. I don’t usually do one-night stands, but it can’t be hard, right? If he’s able to fuck like nothing is wrong, then so can I.
Team’s mouth brushes my ear, making me shiver. “Please come sit with me, Fox.” He drags out my name, and when he leans back, his eyebrow arches.
Gripping my beer, I turn and begin to walk away from the bar, but then I glance back. “Are you coming?”
He follows me with a laugh, slipping his hand around my waist as I head to a booth next to ours since not many others are free.
After sliding in, I expect him to sit on the opposite side, but he scoots in right next to me and turns to face me, his arm draped along the back. He’s good, I’ll give him that. He knows exactly how to make someone look at him.
“Model, right?” I guess.
“How did you know?” he responds, his eyes widening in surprise.
“You know how to pose.” I gesture down at him, and he blushes.
“Habit.” He sounds embarrassed. “But it also means I look good without clothes on.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You’re really forward.”
“What’s the point in holding back? I know exactly what I want, and I always get it. Besides, being shy never got me anywhere.”
“And what do you want?” I ask.
“Isn’t that obvious?” he murmurs, placing his hand on my thigh and squeezing. “For you to take me home tonight.”
Rolling my lips in, I eye him. Can I do it? Can I take him home?
Can I be the sort of person who takes something and leaves? It wouldn’t have expectations, just pleasure and fun, but under it all . . . would I be imagining it’s him ?
Am I trying to fill the hole Ryker left with others? I probably won’t even remember Team’s face or name, but I’d remember the way it felt to fuck someone, wishing it were my bandmate.
Fuck, I’m so messed up inside.
I don’t know what Team sees on my face, but he leans in. “How about we talk a bit more first? There’s no need to rush this. I have all night, so let’s have some fun.”
“I can do that,” I reply.
Sitting next to Team, I cross my legs and lean back. His arm on the back of the sofa touches my shoulder, and I don’t move away. He leans in to be heard over the music, and his eyes seem to darken. “I have to admit something.”
“Oh?” I lift my beer as I wait.
“I knew who you were at the bar.” I blink, and he grins. “I didn’t think you’d talk to me if I admitted that . . . and I wanted to talk to you—badly.”
I groan. “You aren’t an obsessed fan, are you?” We get some of them, especially for Ry and me. Some even attacked Ry after they saw him walking with one of our friends in public, joking around. They are very protective over our “ship.”
“No, but I might just become one.” He winks.
“No, I want another! I can decide how much I fucking drink,” Ry yells behind me. I glance back and see Strike and Dash sharing a worried look as Ry downs two drinks and then heads to the bar.
“Everything okay?” Team asks, drawing my gaze back to him. “Do you need to deal with that?”
“No, not at all,” I murmur as I smile at him. “He’s an adult, and he can look after himself.”
“Then where were we . . . ? Ah, so being a rock god, what’s it like?”
I burst into laughter.
For the next hour, we talk about everything and anything, just flirty, fun conversation, and it’s nice. He looks at me, smiles, and touches me. He’s very obvious about what he wants, and it’s nice to have someone who wants me like that.
It makes me feel good and desired, not tossed aside and discarded. He’s all I see and hear. It’s nothing deep and lasting, but it’s fun, and I think I need that.
“Come on, Ry, you’ve had enough.” Strike sighs behind me, and I glance over to see him fighting to get a drink out of Ryker’s hand. “Let’s get you home.” He tries to help him up, but Ry slaps him away.
“No, I want Fox to take me.”
“Damn it, Ry, stop. You aren’t being fair. We’ll take you,” Strike mutters with annoyance in his tone, something I’ve never heard.
“No, Fox!” Ry slurs.
I wasn’t trying to ignore Ry or the others, but I can see how shitfaced he is. He’s a mess and clearly fucking drunk despite his one-drink promise. Sighing, I eye him anxiously as he smacks Dash and Strike away again.
“No, I want Fox!” he yells, drawing eyes, and I know we are going to get kicked out before long.
“Shit,” I mutter.
“Go.” I glance back at Team, and he smiles. “It’s fine, go. He’s your bandmate. If you ever feel like finishing where this was going, hit me up.” He grabs my phone, adds his number, and hands it back. “If not, I had fun flirting with you. You’re really easy to talk to.”
“You too,” I admit as I stand. “Thank you for a good night. I really didn’t want to come tonight, but I’m glad I did.”
He smiles. “I’m glad you did too.”
I smile back, then I turn and hurry to our table as Ry starts yelling again. The bouncers notice. “No, fuck off. I want my Fox!” he yells loudly at Strike as he kicks him, making him grunt.
“I’m sorry, man.” Strike sighs deeply as I appear at their side.
“It’s fine,” I say before I crouch and grab Ry’s hands, jerking him up into a sitting position. He blinks at me. “Ryker,” I snap.
His yell cuts off, and he grins before tossing his arms around me. “There you are. I knew you’d come. I’m drunk, Foxy, and I want to go home with you. Take me home,” he slurs.