Page 57 of Until Nalia
“I’ll sit in the middle,” I tell Logan when he starts to scoot my way.
“It’s alright, I don’t mind.” He might not mind, but his legs are a mile long and his knees are already pressed up against the back of the seat, so if Benett sits next to him, it’s just going to be worse. And not just for him, since it seems that Benett is just as tall as he is.
“It’s fine.” I look over at Benett. “Do you want to come around to this side?”
“Yeah.” He slams the door shut and I scoot towards Logan and put on my seatbelt, a second later his friend slides in next to me. A second after that Logan wraps his arm over my lap placing his hand between Benett and me. I don’t say anything about the territorial display even though I probably should. I also probably shouldn’t like it, but I do.
“Since no one else is going to introduce you, Nalia, Benett, Benny, Nalia.”
“Hey.” I smile over at him, and he jerks up his chin while slamming his door.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” Missy says, and Hanson pulls away from Benett’s house.
Sixteen
NALIA
As Hanson drives, I learn that he is cautious but has no problem doing at least ten to fifteen miles an hour over the speed limit. I also learn that he might be driving, but Missy is in charge of the music. She plays every single Taylor Swift song with an up-tempo beat and sings each at the top of her lungs while dancing. And even though I love Taylor just as much as the next Swiftie, I’m half tempted to reach up front, grab her cell, and toss it out of the window.
“Are you okay?” Logan asks in a whisper, his breath warming my ear. Turning my head, his face is just a couple of inches from mine, and with his hand still wrapped over my lap, I’m literally surrounded by him.
“I’m okay.”
“You’re quiet,” he continues whispering.
“I’m just enjoying the free Taylor Swift concert,” I whisper back, and he grins. My eyes drop to his mouth without thinking, and I bite my lip when he makes a sound in the back of his throat.
“What are you two whispering about?” Missy asks. I pull my eyes off Logan and find her staring at us.
“Nothing.” I would scoot away from Logan, but there is no room for me to do that, and it’s obvious that he’s not interested in allowing me personal space.
Thankfully, with Hanson’s lead foot, we make it downtown within twenty minutes and find a parking garage close to the bar we are going to.
Like every single Saturday in Nashville, Broadway is jam-packed, and the sidewalks are so crowded that you can’t walk two feet without accidentally bumping into a girl wearing a sash that says she’s getting married or her group of friends that is surrounding her, because we are in the capital of bachelorette parties. The third time I get nudged into Logan’s side by someone passing us, he lets go of my hand, which he’s had in a grip so tight I wonder if he thinks I might wander off, and wraps his arm around my shoulder, hugging me to his side. Then he uses his height and size to his advantage, pushing through the people on the sidewalk until we reach the bar where Hector is performing.
After showing our IDs to the security guy standing at the door, we walk inside with Missy, Hanson, and Benett right behind us. It smells like stale beer, sweat, and the perfume and body spray of every person in the confined space, and there are lots of bodies, so many that it’s almost hard to breathe.
The noise, the smells, the people brushing up against me are overstimulating and a reminder of why I stopped going out to bars and clubs years ago. It’s not that I don’t like to have a good time, I’d just rather have a glass of wine in a quiet restaurant or wine bar where I can actually hear the people I’m spending time with. I get closer to Logan without thinking, and he wraps his arm tighter around me.
“Is this too much?” he asks only loud enough for me to hear, and I wonder if he can somehow read my mind or if it’s that obvious that I’m uncomfortable.
“It’s just been a while since I’ve been in such a small space with so many people.”
“Come on, it’s less crowded near the stage.” Sliding his hand from my shoulders down my arm to wrap around my hip, he places me in front of his body. He’s so close there is no space between us, and with his hand on my hips, he moves us as one through the crowd towards the stage, where we find Hector sitting with his guitar.
“I’m glad you came, man.” He fists bumps Logan then does the same with Hanson and Benett before giving a hug to me and Missy.
“Nervous?” Benett asks him.
“Nah, just ready,” he tells him, then looks at Logan. “You wanna come on stage for a song or two?”
“What?” I tip my chin back to look up at Logan. “You sing?”
“No.” He shakes his head with a chuckle. “Not even a little.”
“Don’t let him lie to you, Nalia. He loves being on stage.”
“I sang karaoke one time,” he mutters, and I laugh then laugh harder when the guys start telling me about his rendition of “Living On A Prayer” Logan performed that had the whole bar singing along with him.
