talented that it’s kind of unfair.” I shove him with my shoulder.
“Thanks.” He pats my knee and squeezes.
“Must have been one helluva dry hump to get that out of you.”
“One of the better ones.”
He’s teasing, but suddenly the thought of him with anyone else in his bed causes my smile to fade a bit. “We should get going.”
Everyone is waiting for us when we finally get there, and Tyler holds my hand the entire way, pulls my chair out for me, and when the waitress asks about splitting checks, he says he’ll cover mine, too.
Shawn rests his elbows on the table and eyes Tyler with a smirk. “First date?”
“Not a date,” we both say at the same time.
Even though I’m not working, I still want to stay sober because this wager, this bet I’ve been dragged into, is going to have to be executed while I have full mental capacity. We make eye contact, and our thighs press together or hands brush every once in a while. But we’re careful not to do anything in front of the rest of the band, even though Hollis clearly knows and is keeping an eye on things.
The band playing is pretty good, but I know that GatB is better, so it’s not hard to turn to Tyler when they break and ask him the question everyone has been waiting for me to deliver.
“I have a wager I’d like to place with you, Tyler Macy.” His face goes blank, and I smile, tilting my head to see his reaction. “I want to see you sing on stage.”
He narrows his eyes and shakes his head. “We’ve talked about this. No.”
“I’ll give you a prize . . .”
That right eyebrow raises, and he angles his body toward me, eyes scouring my face before he responds. “What do I win?”
I take my cue from Jonathan and just answer, “Anything you want.”
“The band isn’t going to let me get up there.”
“Hollis already asked.”
The look of determination on his face makes me lightheaded. “Any song I want?”
“I think she asked them to do a cover song. ‘Don’t Stop Believin’ or something.”
“Never in my life would I do that song. Every good guitarist should know Jeff Buckley, though.”
“You cannot sing a version of ‘Hallelujah’. I won’t allow it. I can’t . . .”
“It’s a stipulation. Do you want to back down?”
I don’t. There’s no way I’m going to deny him or his friends this moment. “Fine, but you have to tell me what you want your prize to be.”
When he leans forward, I hold my breath. “I want to see you dance.”
It’s slow motion, watching him walk away and leap onto the stage. The smile Jon shoots my way is bright and hopeful, and even Hollis gives an encouraging grin, like maybe I owe her one for whatever has happened between her friend and me. Like maybe this will make things okay.
When he starts to sing, I have the briefest glimpse into what his future is going to look like. His voice? His voice is what contracts and sold-out amphitheaters are made of. It’s what girls cry to in their bedrooms and sing in their showers. His voice is the reason I am here.
I don’t care that this song makes me want to cry and makes my chest feel tight. His face while he sings is a sight to behold, and when he closes his eyes and grips the microphone, I’m bombarded with thoughts about his fingers and mouth until I have to lean forward and cross my legs. When the song ends, the place erupts in applause before the other band starts their music again. Tyler’s swagger when he walks back to the table is upped a notch. His friends are patting him on the shoulders, but his full focus is on me. Leaning over with one hand on the table and the other on the booth seat, he lowers his face to look into my eyes.
“I win again.”
I shrug and keep his gaze. “I don’t mind.”
My apartment is quiet, save for the steady rush of my breathing while I change clothes in the bathroom. I secure my hair and take one last look at my reflection before I gather the courage to step out the door. He’s
“Thanks.” He pats my knee and squeezes.
“Must have been one helluva dry hump to get that out of you.”
“One of the better ones.”
He’s teasing, but suddenly the thought of him with anyone else in his bed causes my smile to fade a bit. “We should get going.”
Everyone is waiting for us when we finally get there, and Tyler holds my hand the entire way, pulls my chair out for me, and when the waitress asks about splitting checks, he says he’ll cover mine, too.
Shawn rests his elbows on the table and eyes Tyler with a smirk. “First date?”
“Not a date,” we both say at the same time.
Even though I’m not working, I still want to stay sober because this wager, this bet I’ve been dragged into, is going to have to be executed while I have full mental capacity. We make eye contact, and our thighs press together or hands brush every once in a while. But we’re careful not to do anything in front of the rest of the band, even though Hollis clearly knows and is keeping an eye on things.
The band playing is pretty good, but I know that GatB is better, so it’s not hard to turn to Tyler when they break and ask him the question everyone has been waiting for me to deliver.
“I have a wager I’d like to place with you, Tyler Macy.” His face goes blank, and I smile, tilting my head to see his reaction. “I want to see you sing on stage.”
He narrows his eyes and shakes his head. “We’ve talked about this. No.”
“I’ll give you a prize . . .”
That right eyebrow raises, and he angles his body toward me, eyes scouring my face before he responds. “What do I win?”
I take my cue from Jonathan and just answer, “Anything you want.”
“The band isn’t going to let me get up there.”
“Hollis already asked.”
The look of determination on his face makes me lightheaded. “Any song I want?”
“I think she asked them to do a cover song. ‘Don’t Stop Believin’ or something.”
“Never in my life would I do that song. Every good guitarist should know Jeff Buckley, though.”
“You cannot sing a version of ‘Hallelujah’. I won’t allow it. I can’t . . .”
“It’s a stipulation. Do you want to back down?”
I don’t. There’s no way I’m going to deny him or his friends this moment. “Fine, but you have to tell me what you want your prize to be.”
When he leans forward, I hold my breath. “I want to see you dance.”
It’s slow motion, watching him walk away and leap onto the stage. The smile Jon shoots my way is bright and hopeful, and even Hollis gives an encouraging grin, like maybe I owe her one for whatever has happened between her friend and me. Like maybe this will make things okay.
When he starts to sing, I have the briefest glimpse into what his future is going to look like. His voice? His voice is what contracts and sold-out amphitheaters are made of. It’s what girls cry to in their bedrooms and sing in their showers. His voice is the reason I am here.
I don’t care that this song makes me want to cry and makes my chest feel tight. His face while he sings is a sight to behold, and when he closes his eyes and grips the microphone, I’m bombarded with thoughts about his fingers and mouth until I have to lean forward and cross my legs. When the song ends, the place erupts in applause before the other band starts their music again. Tyler’s swagger when he walks back to the table is upped a notch. His friends are patting him on the shoulders, but his full focus is on me. Leaning over with one hand on the table and the other on the booth seat, he lowers his face to look into my eyes.
“I win again.”
I shrug and keep his gaze. “I don’t mind.”
My apartment is quiet, save for the steady rush of my breathing while I change clothes in the bathroom. I secure my hair and take one last look at my reflection before I gather the courage to step out the door. He’s
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