Page 17 of Shame Me
“No—because you immediately jumped to telling me not toget my panties in a bunch. That’s so offensive.”
“Offen—are you serious?”
“Damn straight.”
Cy shook his head. “I say that shit all the time. Why—”
“Would you ever even dream of telling Zack or Braden not to get their tidy whities in a bunch?”
Braden laughed and immediately regretted it—probably because I glowered at him, daring him to say something, anything.
“No, but I tell Zack tocalm his titssometimes.”
My anger rose so much that I felt like the top of my head was going to blow off. “That isalsofucking sexist.” And, with that, I marched ahead of them toward the door.
But when I got there, I couldn’t get the door open. I pulled and strained and didn’t get it to budge until the guys caught up. I wasn’t sure why it had been so difficult to open, but I’d seen Zack struggle with it earlier—and, as I walked inside, I wondered if the guard standing there had been holding it. As I walked past, he gave me a quick nod, recognizing me and the guys as the band members who’d just toted out all their equipment. As a wall of electronic dance music hit me, I heard Zack say, “Dani, meet at the van at midnight.”
Without turning around, I gave him a thumbs up and kept walking toward what looked to be a strobe light flashing ahead.
But, in my mind, he could fuck all the way off.
CHAPTER 5
Free of the boys in my band, I decided to try to have fun. I actually would have loved a drink that night, but I doubted I could get away with it at the bar. Even though I’d begun wearing lots of dark makeup at our shows, anyone who knew I was the band’s drummer knew I was underage and would likely avoid serving me.
But I knew I could get a big drink of water.
As I walked in the slightly brighter lounge area, I was surprised at how many people were in here rather than on the dance floor—especially if they’d been waiting for the DJ—but, as I made my way toward the bar, I realized that lots of these people were mingling and talking, something that couldn’t be done as easily while dancing. The people gyrating and moving to the music made it look like a lot of fun, but I suspected I’d never hear the end of it from my bandmates if I did.
I suspected I wasn’t a good dancer anyway.
When I finally got to the bar, I noticed my friends hanging out near the other side, chatting with a group of women who didn’t look to be much older than we were—but at least the guys weren’t looking my way. One of the bartenders asked me what I wanted and I asked for a glass of water. “Is that it?”
“Yeah.”
It wasn’t until she gave me the glass that I realized I might have been able to get away with asking for alcohol. Being back here, she probably didn’t even know I’d been with the band.
As I turned around, I glanced over at my bandmates again, debating if I could get away with getting on the dance floor and having fun. Now that I’d grown used to performing onstage, even at the back, I felt a little less self-conscious. It didn’t hurt that there was a sea of faceless people in the crowd and none of them knew me. Had I been one of the guys in the band, it might have been a little harder to be anonymous, but I’d been the girl at the back behind the drums.
“You here by yourself?”
I pivoted toward the voice just behind me, away from the guys in my band. The speaker was masculine, but I had no idea how hot he was until I turned to face him. Holy shit. Even though he looked like he could have been one of those corporate downtown assholes I’d waited on in my serving job a few months ago, I didn’t believe I’d ever seen him before: eyes so blue they were like sapphires in the dim light of the lounge, a rugged jaw with just a bit of stubble, short dark blond hair slicked back.
“Not exactly.” His eyes told me he was interested—but the idea that I was here with a guy had crossed his mind, thanks to my stupid answer. So I rushed to correct it. “I’m here with friends.”
The smile returned and it felt like he moved closer—even though he stayed put. “Did they abandon you?”
“Yeah, you could say that.”
“Want some company?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” What? Where the hell had I learned to say shit like that? Probably from the stupid movies the guys in the band watched.
But this guy here didn’t seem to notice. “My name’s Grey.”
“Dani.” Either he didn’t recognize me from the band or he hadn’t seen the show. Regardless, I much preferred being just a girl at the moment. I took his hand and shook it—but he didn’t let go right away. Instead, he began sliding his palm along mine.
“Your hand’s cold.”
