Page 10 of Claimed by the Fallen
Well, not really “us”. He’s only got eyes forAnnie.
“Joey’s not back yet?” Annie spins around. She stands on her tip-toes to try and find our friend in the mass of people. I grab onto her elbow to make sure she doesn’t fall, but she barelywobbles.
I’m about to tell her she looks like a meerkat surveying the Savannah when she cries out, “There he is. I see him!” She drops on her heels and grabs myhand.
Annie leads us through the crowd, and I cringe whenever I feel unexpected moisture touch my skin. I’m going to need to take five showers before I will feel clean again. Looking above the crowd, I see Joey is facing us. He is smiling and talking with two guys. One, I recognize as his teammate. The other has his back to me and is partially hidden by the people aroundhim.
Annie hollers, “Hey, Joey. You planning to ditch us for the whole concert, orwhat?”
Hearing his name, Joey looks up. His smile widens, and he waves us over. I stumble as Annie pullsme.
“No, sorry,” Joey responds once we draw closer. “I was hoping you’d come looking for me. I didn’t want to move and lose this spot for theconcert.”
His two friends turn to see who Joey is talking to, and I nearly fall on my face when I recognize Preston McKenna. What is Joey doing talking to him? They aren’tfriends.
Preston smiles, and my knees weaken. “Hey, Veronica. Hi,Annie.”
Annie wedges us between Joey and Preston, placing me next to the latter. “Hey, Preston. What’s up, Scott,” she addresses Joey’steammate.
Succumbing to my shyness, I can only lift my hand and give the guys a smallwave.
Neither seems put off by my silent greeting. Scott returns Annie’s greeting, and Preston swivels to look down atme.
“Joey told me it’s your birthday today,” he gives a best boy next door smile. “Happybirthday!”
I’m going to killJoey.
I try my best to hide my embarrassment and smile back. “Thanks. That’s really nice ofyou.”
“No problem,” Preston replies. He doesn’t release me from his stare. Instead, I watch as his eyes begin to move down my body, taking note of myoutfit.
A rush of modesty courses through me, but I don’t fidget. I tell myself Preston is just surprised to see me so dressed up. He’s used to seeing me in rolled-up skinny jeans and loose t-shirts. The glint in his eye has nothing to do with him being attracted tome.
Nope. Definitelynot.
The lights around the stage begin to fade. The crowd roars, excited by the sign the concert is about tostart.
Preston clears his throat and shakes his head, making his brown hair sway. “I better go find Tina,” he shouts above the noise, then he reaches out a hand towards Joey and Scott. “See you guysaround.”
The guys take turns shaking his hand. Annie waggles her fingers at him before giving me a sly look. I don’t need to wonder if she saw Preston’s perusal. I look away from my friend, focusing all of my attention on thestage.
The muscles in my chest ripple. At first, I cringe, expecting pain to follow the unusual sensation. I’m surprised when that doesn’t happen. Instead, the tension is almost gentle—sort of like the feeling right before your body erupts intogoosebumps.
As if my eyes are magnets and his body is a piece of metal, I’m pulled toward the staircase beside the stage. The blond guy is still there. Only, this time, he is blatantly staring atme.
All of my nerve endings fire. Warmth floods my limbs as I return the man’sstare.
He adjusts his stance, leaning forward, as if he’s trying to get a better look at me. I raise an eyebrow, and I’m surprised when he mimics the action. Then, his lips curl into a grin. He looks pleased about something, but I refuse to think it’sme.
A man bumps into my back. I squeal as ice-cold beer slides down my shirt. The spell isbroken.
Annie turns after hearing the sound. She shouts, “Hey!” to the guy who spilled on me, but he’s already pushing his way through the crowd, trying to get closer to thestage.
“What an ass-hat,” Annie yells towards the retreating figure. That’s how I know she’s truly mad on my behalf. Annie rarelycusses.
Joey grimaces when he realizes what’s happened. “Do you want my overshirt, Ronnie?” he asks, already pulling off the thin, checkered button-up.
“No, that’s okay. It will dry.” I hold up a hand. I reach around my back and tug the wet fabric from my skin. “But I think I’m going to run to the bathroom to try and speed up theprocess.”
