3. Robin
ROBIN
“Did that priest just wink at me?”
Mel didn’t even look up from her drink. “He absolutely winked at you.”
I stared toward the stage while my brain briefly forgot how to function like a normal human being.
“That seems illegal somehow.”
Beside me, Belle snorted into her cocktail. “You’ve been eye-fucking each other for, like, twenty minutes.”
“We have not.”
“You literally stopped mid-sentence when he rolled up his sleeves.”
“In my defense,” I said carefully, “I just wanted to see his tattoos?"
Belle rolled her eyes. “I totally believe that.”
I ignored her and took another sip of my drink while trying very hard not to stare directly at the bassist currently ruining my peace.
Unfortunately, the effort failed almost immediately.
Because good lord, the priest costume should’ve been cheesy.
Objectively, it was cheesy. But something about the contrast worked way too well on him.
Black button-up sleeves rolled to his forearms. White collar against his skin.
Blond hair slightly messy beneath the stage lights, like he’d already run his hands through it a dozen times tonight.
I wanted to do that for him instead, which felt concerning.
“It’s been a while since you looked at a man like that,” Mel observed casually.
I narrowed my eyes on her. “You’re very invested in this.”
“I deserve entertainment.”
Honestly, it had been a while.
If I had to label myself, pansexual was probably the closest. My sexuality had always landed somewhere in the general category of hot people are hot.
I was attracted to all genders and body types, as long as they had that certain something.
But men required a level of trust and emotional energy I usually didn’t feel interested in offering.
Too many of them moved through the world like entitlement was a personality trait.
This one though… This one looked at people carefully, like he actually saw them. Which somehow made him more dangerous.
“Who even is he?” Belle asked.
“Micah,” Mel supplied. “He fills in with Derek’s band sometimes.”
Micah. Okay. That fit him annoyingly well.
On stage, he adjusted his bass strap and laughed at something the guitarist said into the mic. He had an easy smile and relaxed posture. It was the kind of confidence that didn’t feel performative.
Then his gaze flicked toward me again. Heat curled low in my stomach.
Jesus Christ. No wonder churches got people emotionally compromised. The man looked like temptation wrapped in a guitar strap.
“Robin,” Belle said slowly, “you’re spiraling in real time.”
“Shut up. I’m being totally normal.”
“You just stared at his mouth for a full thirty seconds. I was counting.”
Mel burst out laughing.
I flipped both of them off without looking away from the stage. Because the problem was that Micah kept looking back too. The little glances between songs did something to me. His eyes caught mine through the crowd. These tiny moments felt weirdly intimate despite the packed bar around us.
And every single time it happened, my pulse kicked harder. At one point he smiled mid-song while looking directly at me and nearly knocked over a mic stand with the neck of his bass. That’s when I realized something delicious.
I was getting to him too.
A slow grin spread across my face as I leaned back against the bar.
Across the room, Micah noticed. His fingers stuttered briefly across the strings, an obvious mistake pounding through the large speakers.
Belle made a strangled noise beside me. “Oh my god, you almost killed him.”
“Good.”
“You’re trouble."
“I’ve been told that before.”
But if he was going to wink at me dressed like a six-foot-tall religious crisis, he deserved consequences.
The rest of the set dissolved into shameless mutual distraction. Eye contact across flashing lights. Smirks hidden behind drink glasses. Micah trying very hard to focus on playing while I watched him unravel in real time. And honestly? It was the most fun I’d had in weeks.
By the time the band stepped offstage for their second break, I had reached a very important conclusion… The hot priest was becoming a problem. A blonde, very handsome, bass-playing problem.
Belle caught me draining the rest of my drink and immediately narrowed her eyes. “Oh no.”
“What?”
“Your face.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It means you’re about to make questionable decisions with confidence.”
She wasn’t wrong. I slid off my barstool before I could overthink it.
Across the room, Micah leaned against the far end of the bar waiting for a drink, sleeves still rolled to his forearms. Up close, he looked even better.
He was taller than I realized. His hands looked strong, and that sharp jaw was a nice contrast to his slightly messy blonde hair that looked dangerously touchable.
And yes, I hated myself a little for noticing.
His gaze lifted as I approached. For one brief second, genuine surprise flashed across his face before that easy smile returned.
“Guess I should start going to church more often,” I said with a practiced confidence.
I stopped in front of him and let my eyes drift deliberately down the white priest collar.
“I’m pretty sure there’s a rule about priests tempting nuns.” His mouth twitched immediately. “Although,” he said, leaning slightly closer, “I’m pretty sure you’re the one dressed like a sinful thought.”
Heat flashed through me.
The bar was loud enough that conversation required leaning close, bodies naturally drifting nearer through the packed crowd. Music thumped around us while Halloween chaos swirled in every direction, but somehow Micah’s attention felt completely fixed on me.
“I gotta say,” he murmured, “this is not what I expected when I picked this costume.”
“What, the religious sexual tension?”
“That exactly, yes.”
I laughed softly before I could stop myself. Up close, he smelled unfairly good. Something warm and woodsy beneath sweat and stage lights, like cedar and amber and bad decisions.
My eyes caught briefly on the edge of dark ink disappearing beneath the sleeve rolled at his forearm. I wanted to know what the rest looked like.
“You know,” I said, voice lowering slightly as I leaned closer to his ear, trying to talk over the loud music, “your whole thing is extremely confusing for someone dressed like a priest.”
His breath hitched. Actually hitched. Oh, I liked that.
Micah turned his head slightly toward mine, close enough now that I could feel the warmth of him.
“You’re not exactly helping,” he said quietly.
The tension between us tightened so suddenly it almost startled me. There was no awkwardness, just immediate chemistry humming hot beneath every glance and word.
Well then. I tipped my head slightly, studying him for one long second before making the kind of impulsive decision that usually ended either very well or catastrophically. Honestly, fifty-fifty odds.
“Come home with me,” I said.
Micah answered so fast it nearly overlapped my sentence.
“Yes.”
I blinked. Then I laughed. “Oh my god,” I said. “You didn’t even pretend to think about it.”
“I’ve been preparing spiritually for this moment all night.”
“That feels inappropriate given the costume.”
“I’m doing my best.”
His grin widened slightly, warm and crooked, and devastatingly charming. And annoyingly, my stomach flipped.
A voice shouted from the stage then. “Micah!”
He looked genuinely offended by the interruption.
I smirked. “Duty calls, Father.”
“That sentence almost killed me.”
“Good.”
He laughed under his breath and started backing slowly toward the stage, eyes still fixed on mine.
“Don’t disappear,” he said with another one of those lethal winks.
The confidence in his voice should’ve annoyed me. Instead, it sent another pulse of heat straight through my chest. I crossed my arms loosely and leaned against the bar. “Guess you better play well then.”
Micah grinned once more before climbing back onto the stage.
And when he glanced at me again before the first song started? Yeah. I was absolutely taking the hot priest home tonight.
The problem with inviting an attractive man home from a bar was that afterward you had to sit there while he continued existing attractively in public. Micah stepped back onto the stage, adjusted his bass strap, and immediately looked at me again like he physically couldn’t help it.
Which honestly? Same.
I leaned against the bar with my drink while the drummer counted off the next song. I couldn’t stop watching his blond hair, rolled sleeves, and smug little smiles that made me want to bite something…. or someone.
The band launched into the song, and I tried very hard to act normal about the fact that I had just propositioned a man dressed as clergy.
Beside me, Belle slowly lowered her drink.
“Oh my god.”
“What now?”
“You’re smiling.”
“I do that sometimes.”
“Not like that.”
I ignored her.
Unfortunately, Zella chose that exact moment to wander over holding mozzarella sticks and the emotional awareness of an enthusiastic golden retriever.
“Wait,” she said, looking between me and the stage. “Were you flirting with the priest?”
I choked on my drink slightly. Belle burst into immediate laughter. Mel looked deeply unsurprised.
“I am not flirting,” I lied.
Sonia blinked. “Robin, you literally asked him to come home with you.”
Traitor. “How do you know that?”
“You said it loud enough for three people dressed like vampires to gasp.”
“Oh my god,” I muttered into my drink.
Belle was practically vibrating now. “This is the best day of my life.”
Across the room, Micah glanced over again. Zella waved enthusiastically at him. I nearly died on the spot.
“Oh good,” I said dryly. “Now he knows we’re talking about him like middle schoolers.”
Micah laughed from the stage despite being halfway through a song. The bastard looked pleased with himself too, which only made him hotter.
“You like him,” Zella said brightly.
“I find him temporarily interesting.”
“You invited him home,” Zella said.
Belle pointed toward the stage dramatically. “He almost walked into his mic stand because you looked at him.”