CHAPTER ONE
I’m generally not a party-pooper, but as the band transitions seamlessly into a new song during what it is now their second encore, I’m ready to pull a fire alarm and end the insanity.
I pull my cell phone out of my purse to check the time. It’s after midnight. The show was supposed to end at eleven-thirty and I’m supposed to be home in bed by now.
It’s my own fault, I think, as I watch David strum his acoustic guitar. I knew I shouldn’t have come, but I couldn’t resist. Moth to flame.
I glance at my No-Longer-Designated Driver, Katy, who’s laughing with a handsome guy and doing shots of tequila. Mystery Man has chocolate skin and a gorgeous smile, so I can’t entirely blame her. Or at least I couldn’t blame her for having a single round at eight o’clock when the show started. The fact that she’s currently wasted and it’ll be my job to get her into a cab and help her retrieve her car tomorrow when she crawls out from under her hangover only fuels my annoyance.
Normally I wouldn’t mind but she promised this time and she knows I have to be at work at five in the morning. The only reason I came was her promise of an immediate ride home. Well, not the only reason. I watch David sing another bar and rub my temples. I’m an idiot.
I let out an irritated sigh and push my way back through the crowd. At the bar, which is in the back corner, I order a glass of water. I’ve had four beers but stopped drinking over an hour ago, and now the fading buzz is adding to my sleepiness.
The woman waiting for a cocktail next to me spots my blue band shirt. “Fan, huh?” she asks.
“They’re friends of mine,” I say.
“Oh, cool.” The bartender gives her a pink drink in a martini glass. “They’re good. The leader singer is cute.”
“Yeah,” I agree, but “cute” is not the right word. David Huan is exceedingly gorgeous, with light blue eyes, inky hair, and high cheek bones. Not that any of that is visible from back here.
“Is he single?”
“Married.” The lie slips out and I hope she doesn’t talk to him after the show. That would be awkward to explain away. But as much as I’ve accepted he and I will never be an actual item, I can’t help hating the idea of David with other women. Which is why I shouldn’t be here.
He and I starting hooking up a while back. He’s good looking, funny, sweet. In many ways, the perfect guy. I am—was—smitten. It took him a week to tell me he doesn’t “do” girlfriends and wanted to keep things casual. Code for ‘all of the sex, none of the obligation.’ It hurt because I liked him—I still really like him—but for a while I told myself that was fine. I’m a modern woman. I can do casual.
And it was. For a while.
Until Erica, his old friend, showed up for the weekend. It was like they had a special secret club no one else could join. I got jealous and then I got angry, and I decided I didn’t want a fuck buddy and our casual thing had to stop.
Because I am an adult, I have been studiously avoiding being alone with David ever since. I haven’t even told him our hooking up days are over, if he even cares.
I can’t avoid him entirely though. He’s my best friend’s brother and they live in the same house. Also, I like the rest of the band. And the band’s music, except when their show is going way too long and I need to get home.
The woman from the bar says it was nice to meet me and walks back to her friends.
I pull out my cell phone to check the time again. Twelve-twenty. I have to work at five am, which means I have to get up by four-thirty. If we get a cab right away, I might get a few hours of sleep.
“Eager to go?” a guy beside me asks in a British accent. His bottom lip is pierced and the ring moves as he speaks. He’s leaning against the far end of the bar, holding a beer and looking like the last person I’d expect to see at a country rock show. He’s
I’m generally not a party-pooper, but as the band transitions seamlessly into a new song during what it is now their second encore, I’m ready to pull a fire alarm and end the insanity.
I pull my cell phone out of my purse to check the time. It’s after midnight. The show was supposed to end at eleven-thirty and I’m supposed to be home in bed by now.
It’s my own fault, I think, as I watch David strum his acoustic guitar. I knew I shouldn’t have come, but I couldn’t resist. Moth to flame.
I glance at my No-Longer-Designated Driver, Katy, who’s laughing with a handsome guy and doing shots of tequila. Mystery Man has chocolate skin and a gorgeous smile, so I can’t entirely blame her. Or at least I couldn’t blame her for having a single round at eight o’clock when the show started. The fact that she’s currently wasted and it’ll be my job to get her into a cab and help her retrieve her car tomorrow when she crawls out from under her hangover only fuels my annoyance.
Normally I wouldn’t mind but she promised this time and she knows I have to be at work at five in the morning. The only reason I came was her promise of an immediate ride home. Well, not the only reason. I watch David sing another bar and rub my temples. I’m an idiot.
I let out an irritated sigh and push my way back through the crowd. At the bar, which is in the back corner, I order a glass of water. I’ve had four beers but stopped drinking over an hour ago, and now the fading buzz is adding to my sleepiness.
The woman waiting for a cocktail next to me spots my blue band shirt. “Fan, huh?” she asks.
“They’re friends of mine,” I say.
“Oh, cool.” The bartender gives her a pink drink in a martini glass. “They’re good. The leader singer is cute.”
“Yeah,” I agree, but “cute” is not the right word. David Huan is exceedingly gorgeous, with light blue eyes, inky hair, and high cheek bones. Not that any of that is visible from back here.
“Is he single?”
“Married.” The lie slips out and I hope she doesn’t talk to him after the show. That would be awkward to explain away. But as much as I’ve accepted he and I will never be an actual item, I can’t help hating the idea of David with other women. Which is why I shouldn’t be here.
He and I starting hooking up a while back. He’s good looking, funny, sweet. In many ways, the perfect guy. I am—was—smitten. It took him a week to tell me he doesn’t “do” girlfriends and wanted to keep things casual. Code for ‘all of the sex, none of the obligation.’ It hurt because I liked him—I still really like him—but for a while I told myself that was fine. I’m a modern woman. I can do casual.
And it was. For a while.
Until Erica, his old friend, showed up for the weekend. It was like they had a special secret club no one else could join. I got jealous and then I got angry, and I decided I didn’t want a fuck buddy and our casual thing had to stop.
Because I am an adult, I have been studiously avoiding being alone with David ever since. I haven’t even told him our hooking up days are over, if he even cares.
I can’t avoid him entirely though. He’s my best friend’s brother and they live in the same house. Also, I like the rest of the band. And the band’s music, except when their show is going way too long and I need to get home.
The woman from the bar says it was nice to meet me and walks back to her friends.
I pull out my cell phone to check the time again. Twelve-twenty. I have to work at five am, which means I have to get up by four-thirty. If we get a cab right away, I might get a few hours of sleep.
“Eager to go?” a guy beside me asks in a British accent. His bottom lip is pierced and the ring moves as he speaks. He’s leaning against the far end of the bar, holding a beer and looking like the last person I’d expect to see at a country rock show. He’s
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