I was starting to sweat and I didn’t think it had anything to do with the temperature inside this bar. I took off my jacket and draped it over one arm.
Dylan ordered two beers while I scanned the room in search of familiar faces. My gaze landed on the stage where Ollie was duct taping the cables, his back turned to the room. Beck and Gavin were farther down the bar, closer to the stage, drinking beers and chatting with a few girls, none of whom looked familiar. Normally I would go over and hang out with them but I couldn’t do that tonight. Not with Dylan. Maybe if I just stayed here toward the back, nobody would even see me.
Dylan pressed a beer into my hand. I thanked him and chugged a quarter of it. He stared at me. “Planning to get shitfaced?”
“Will it help?” I wiped my sweaty palm on my skirt.
He chuckled. “Just chill. It’s all good.”
Easy for him to say. He leaned his hip against the bar and took a pull of his beer, his hand curving around my hip, his thumb brushing over the soft skin above the waistband of my skirt. Without thinking, I leaned into him, and slid my hand up his chest, over his lean, cut muscles, hard under the soft material of his black T-shirt. When I realized what I was doing, I removed my hand and took a step back, chugging more beer.
Dylan laughed, obviously finding this whole thing more amusing than I did. I really was a shameless hussy.
A few minutes later, the music from the speakers cut out and the lights dimmed. I relaxed a bit and looked up as Beck leaped onto the stage, his guitar slung over his back. He speared his hand through the bleached tips of his spiky hair and winked at a girl down in front, his hand curling around the mic and bringing it to his mouth. “Hey everyone. Thanks for coming out tonight. We’re the Savage Nobles.”
That earned appreciative applause from the crowd and a few cheers. Beck and Gavin were cousins and their last name was Noble, thus the name of the band which we’d come up with during a brainstorming session in the high school cafeteria.
Beck introduced Gavin who flicked his long, dark hair off his face then Ollie who tossed his sticks in the air and caught them one-handed, his biceps flexing under the sleeves of his white T-shirt painted with a black heartbeat and drums. I made that T-shirt for him. Over the years, I’d made a lot of T-shirts for him and the band guys.
“Well, alright,” Beck said, shouldering his guitar. “Let’s play some music.”
Ollie set the beat, Gavin brought the rhythm, and Beck played the chords of “Halcyon Days,” a song they wrote when they were on the road the summer after high school. It made me feel nostalgic to hear Beck’s bluesy rock voice singing about the golden days of our youth as if we were ninety years old and looking back on better days.
“They’re pretty good,” Dylan said in my ear, his lips ghosting over my neck as I nodded. I’d spent countless hours listening to them, hanging out in Beck’s garage while they jammed. Sitting on a threadbare sofa in a dingy warehouse in Seattle where they worked tirelessly on their sound, on the lyrics, their hopes and dreams pinned on someday getting their big break. More than anything, I wanted all their dreams to come true. Because they were good.
They were the real deal.
* * *
By the time the band wrapped up their set, I was on my third beer, sweaty from dancing, and high on the music. I’d forgotten all about being nervous, my inhibitions cast aside.
“We’re gonna do a cover, if that’s alright with you,” Beck said into the mic.
The opening chords of “Do I Wanna Know” by The Arctic Monkeys filled the room and Dylan’s hand came around me, his palm flattening against my stomach as his lips met my neck. We danced like we had on the beach that night, my free arm snaked around the back of his neck, his arm around my middle, our bodies moving in sync. The people around us faded away and it was just him and me and the music and my wildly beating heart.
I was so careless. So reckless. But nobody had ever made me feel the way he did. I was love-drunk. Eyes closed. The beat of the music reverberating through my core, the heat of his body lighting an inferno inside me. I was powerless to resist him, his closeness so male, so intoxicating and delicious I got a natural high off it.
When the music stopped, the last note had been played, and the crowd started cheering, my eyes flew open, breaking me out of the trance. My gaze landed on Ollie whose scowl was directed at me. For a few seconds, our eyes locked across the crowded bar and I flinched as his expression grew hard and resentful.
He hates me. Ollie hates me.
My stomach dropped. I’d done it again.
Ollie jumped off the stage and stalked through the crowd, headed toward me. I tried to put some distance between me and Dylan, as if that would help when only minutes ago, I’d been grinding my ass against his groin. Ollie stopped in front of me.
“What is he doing here?” Ollie gritted out, skin slick with sweat, green eyes flashing with anger.
“I texted you that he was coming. You never replied.” As if that was any excuse.
“You expected her to come to this bar alone?” Dylan said. “The fuck were you thinking?”
Be quiet, Dylan. He had a knack for making matters even worse than they already were.
Ollie glared at Dylan, hands clenched into fists, and for a minute I was worried he would punch him. But that wasn’t Ollie’s style. “This is between me and Scarlett.” Ollie grabbed my arm and dragged me away from Dylan to a dark corner near the front door. His jaw clenched and the muscle in his cheek jumped. I had a sinking feeling that this time there would be no coming back. “So you’re doing this. You’re getting involved with him?”
“I…” I looked over at Dylan. I’d left him alone for two seconds and some blonde chick was already hitting on him. I wanted to scratch out her eyeballs. Scream that he’s mine.Back off, bitch.He made me feel violent.
What the hell was wrong with me? My gaze swung back to Ollie.