Page 18 of Tempting the Player
I nod at Eric as I walk by the band. Live music was a nice touch, and everyone seems to be enjoying it. I pull out my phone as I enter the kitchen. No new texts. He doesn’t even have my number, so I’m not sure why I am disappointed, but there it is. I am pathetic. I want him to show. I want him to show so badly.
I grab a hard seltzer from the fridge and then linger in the kitchen to chill for a minute. I have danced hard for the past two hours, but I need a breather. Out of habit, I open Instagram. I scroll for a bit before opening my messages and notifications. I switch over to the Ivy profile. It has way more notifications and messages, most of which I ignore, but one name stands out and steals the breath from my lungs.
Not wanting to believe my eyes, I click on the last photo I shared (or rather my manager shared). It’s a shot paparazzi snapped of me on campus shortly after news broke that I was at Valley U. I’m smiling right at the camera, looking like a quintessential college kid. Backpack on, coffee in one hand, phone in the other.
Most of the photographers have left by now, or at least aren’t following my every move like they were. Those first couple of weeks they were everywhere.
I read through the comments on the photo. They’re generally nice. Most people are just happy to have an update on my life, and the few snarky assholes I easily ignore. But it isn’t any of the comments that have my stomach churning with unease and fear stretching through my limbs. It’s a simple like from a guy I haven’t seen or talked to in years.
Just to be sure it’s really him, I click on his name with trembling fingers. Heat pricks at the back of my neck as my screen fills with images of his smug handsome face. A face that still makes me want to hurl something at him.
“Jane!”
My thoughts are interrupted, and I quickly swipe out of the app and lock my phone. Looking up, I see Brogan and Archer making their way from the living room to the kitchen.
I shove my phone in my pocket and smile. I can’t help but chance a quick glance past them. I try not to let my disappointment show when Hendrick isn’t anywhere in sight.
“Hey. I’m so glad you guys could make it,” I say, cheerily.
Brogan comes in for a hug, and Archer lifts a hand in a wave, wearing his usual half-smile.
I squeeze Brogan back and then we step apart.
“I heard we might owe you an apology for the other night,” Archer says. “Sorry if we made you uncomfortable.”
I almost laugh. It sounds so much like Hendrick, it makes me wonder what he said to them to have Archer apologizing.
“You were fine. Nice pipes by the way. You can really belt out some classic rock.”
His cheeks take on a light pinkish hue.
“I invited Hendrick. Is he coming?” I ask, my heart rate picking up even as I prepare myself for the answer to be no. He wasn’t exactly jumping at the invite.
“I’m not sure.” Archer looks apologetic as he delivers the news, but his face says it all. He doesn’t expect his brother to show up either.
“But we left before him,” Brogan adds. “He was driving Flynn home after the game, so maybe he’ll stop by later.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I flash them a bright smile. “Want something to drink?”
* * *
Hopes dashed that Hendrick is coming, I rededicate myself to having fun tonight. Maybe he really is busy or maybe he’s just not interested. Whatever it is, I can’t mope around waiting for him to realize how awesome I am.
I’m dancing at the front of the crowd. My friends are nearby with their boyfriends, being adorable. The band is amazing. They play a lot of nineties and early two-thousands cover songs. Mackenzie brings the energy with her vocals, Ted and Lennon are living their best lives, and Eric is eating up the attention. He has on a button-down shirt and every few songs another button seems to come undone. Between songs, Eric beckons me forward.
I sashay toward him, still grooving to the last song. “You guys sound amazing.”
He grabs the seltzer from my hand and takes a drink before answering. “Thanks.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “You should sing one with us.”
“Tonight? No way. I’ve already had a few drinks. The bubbles mess with my voice.” I take the empty can back from him.
“Bullshit. You always sound great. Sing with us.”
“You have a singer.” I motion toward Mackenzie. Ted has his arms around her possessively.
She pulls away from him to step over to us and shoots me a friendly smile. “I don't mind.”
“See?” Eric grins. “One song. The crowd will go nuts. Everyone wants to hear you sing.”
