Page 50 of Lost Boy
I force my gaze away. I can’t get caught staring.Wecan’t get caught. Whatever this is.
All I know is that remembering his smaller frame dwarfed in my letterman jacket does all kinds of primal, caveman things to me. Which isexactlywhy I’m wearing the jacket tonight and not him. I can’t risk getting drunk and seeing him in it. I might toss him down in the dirt, in front of the fire, and claim him for everyone to see.
I take a swig of my beer, pushing thoughts of Fallon wearing only my letterman jacket away. Thoughts of him on his knees in my letterman jacket, bent over in my letterman jacket, and on top of me wearing my letterman jacket.
Shit.
I chug the rest of my drink and grab another before we move to the fire. Fallon eyes me curiously, but I shrug, unwilling to share my dirty fantasies with him.
Jamie and Cole slip away to find the other guys, and I grab the best seats for us—two folding lawn chairs—and set them up with a lake and a bonfire view. Kids are sprinkled all over the shore and clustered around the fire in small groups.
“Mason’s so drunk, he can’t even play his guitar! We’ve got no live music, so now Gracie, Alexis, and I can’t sing,” Taylor, the head cheerleader with white blonde hair, whines as she plops down next to us. Her two friends pile on top.
I glance at Fallon, unwilling to call him out in a crowd of people but also dying to see him play.Hearhim play. I catch his gaze and nod encouragingly.
I know he’s introverted, but he also loves music and songwriting. This would be good for him. Push him out of his comfort zone and make him open up more.
“I play,” he says quietly, the crackling and popping of the fire drowning him out. Before I have to speak up and repeat what he said, Gracie registers his words.
“Wait, what? Oh my God!” She nudges her friends. “He plays guitar! What’s your name again? I love your hair!”
“Fallon,” he mumbles shyly. He seems unaccustomed to female attention, and for some reason, that makes me want to fluff up my feathers and get him to notice me instead.
“Yes! Fallon, with the save! She was going to pout all night, I just know it. Now I might get some!” Cole leans over the back of my chair and whisper-shouts into my ear. He unfolds his chair, setting up shop right next to us, on the other side of the girls.
Fallon accepts the guitar from Mason’s best friend, Ezra. “Thanks,” he mutters with a rough voice, his blue hair hiding half his face. He begins to tune the guitar, strumming chords while tightening and loosening the strings.
“Do you know any Taylor Swift?” Taylor asks ironically, her long blonde hair and blunt bangs adding to the argument.
In a rare show of public emotion, blood rushes to his cheeks, and he mumbles, “A few.” Gracie and Alexis squeal, and Fallon’s blush deepens in the flickering campfire. I like it. I like him. Iwanthim.So fucking bad.
“You pick. I know everything. Test me,” she encourages.
Fallon glances over at me, then back to the girls piled together on the fold-out lounging lawn chair. “‘Sad Beautiful Tragic.’”
The girls are speechless for a moment.
“Taylor’s Version,” he adds confidently, and my lip quirks. Fucking adorable.
“Yesss! One of my favorites. So lovely. Ready when you are, new friend.” She winks at him, but Fallon doesn’t acknowledge her, just ducks his head and starts strumming a slow, beautiful melody. A song I’ve never heard before.
Taylor’s soft, honey-sweet voice flows out effortlessly and, combined with Fallon’s acoustic guitar skills, is captivating.
They sound amazing, like they’ve practiced together for years. It’s incredible. Everyone nearby seems to think so too, because a crowd gathers.
I expect Fallon to bow out after one song because of the attention, but then he starts to really get into it, tapping his foot and bobbing his head. He hums in the background, harmonizing with Taylor, and I’m completely speechless. I knew he liked to write, but his voice, even just a hum, is fucking special. Raspy and a little scratchy, it offsets hers brilliantly, and the performance ends way too soon.
Everyone is quiet for a moment, shocked by what we just witnessed.
“Ho-ly shit! That was jizz-in-my-pants amazing!”
Aaaand Cole’s tipsy.
“I’m next!” Gracie shouts.
“Oh, can’t we do a duet, Grace? I don’t want to miss out before he gets too drunk like the rest of the guys,” Alexis whines.
I glance at Fallon and see him guzzling his beer before accepting another from Cole and wiggling the little stash box out of his front pocket.
