Read Online Not About Love (This Love Book 2) by Hilaria Alexander - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Hilaria Alexander
Tags: Novel
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off my legs. I put some makeup on, fixed my hair, and accessorized with a pair of statement earrings. I headed downstairs, trying to contain the butterflies in my stomach, and reminded myself not to have high hopes for the evening.
* * *
Mr. and Mrs. Rivers introduced me to a lot of their friends, but just as I suspected, Ella, Lou, and I were the youngest people in attendance. I struck up a conversation with an attorney friend of Leanne who had studied at Georgetown twenty years before I did, but soon found myself wandering around in the house and staring at pictures I hadn’t had time to look at before.
I was also getting buzzed. I’d basically been drinking all afternoon and had now switched to brandy. I walked around the house and came across a wall filled with photos. I had seen the wall earlier in the day, but I hadn’t had time to look or study the pictures up close.
My eyes fell on a picture of a much younger Boyd with some other guys and a girl who looked about the same age. He had long hair almost to his shoulders and didn’t have a lick of facial hair.
In the photo, he was holding a saxophone.
Boyd was in a band?
One of the guys had a guitar strapped around his neck, another one was holding a bass guitar, and another was sitting behind a drum kit. Then there was the singer, a girl, holding a microphone. She was the one who stood out the most out of the bunch, as lead singers often do. She was pretty, her heart-shaped face framed by short blonde hair. Her features were highlighted by her red lipstick, and she was wearing a faded Nirvana shirt with a mini skirt and combat boots. She looked like the singer of a punk band. I was confused, because I didn’t think I had ever seen or heard of a punk band with a sax player.
My eyes went back to Boyd, and I studied his expression. He looked so young, so different, but one thing was familiar: his scowl. Oh, teenage angsty Boyd.
It seemed really strange, though. I had never heard him talk about music, even though music was such an important part of his family. There was always music playing in this house. I had noticed that the year before, too. That time, Lou and his father were playing a duet on the piano. Now, Ella joined them by singing the old Ella Fitzgerald tune the father and son were playing.
I turned around and looked at the photo again.
I wondered why Boyd had never said a word about it. He wasn’t the type of person to be shy about his accomplishments. I was shocked he hadn’t boasted about playing the saxophone. That alone would have gained some sexy points in my book—not that he really needed them, but still.
There was just something about a saxophone that was hard to resist.
I wondered if it was because sax sounded like sex. I giggled to myself, nursing my glass of brandy.
I found a spot on the couch and sat down, listening to my friends play and sing. At some point, I must have zoned out, because I didn’t even realize Boyd had arrived. He started working the room, saying hi to everyone. It was only when he was a few feet away from me that I heard his deep voice and looked up.
He found me on the couch and when our gazes locked, his eyes were brightened by the huge smile that stretched across his face.
My heart started hammering against my rib cage, and I couldn’t stop the happy feeling spreading throughout my chest. His smile turned into a lusty, dark look when his eyes slid over me. He headed in my direction, but was stopped and greeted by a couple older ladies just a few steps away from where I was sitting. He was all smiles as they paid him compliments.
“My oh my, Jackson Rivers, aren’t you the strapping young man?” said one of the ladies.
“You sure have become quite the big boy!” said the other. I bit my lip, trying to contain my laughter, but I couldn’t stop it. Boyd kept stealing glances my way and was fighting a smile. He pointed a finger at me when the ladies weren’t looking. The mischievous look in
* * *
Mr. and Mrs. Rivers introduced me to a lot of their friends, but just as I suspected, Ella, Lou, and I were the youngest people in attendance. I struck up a conversation with an attorney friend of Leanne who had studied at Georgetown twenty years before I did, but soon found myself wandering around in the house and staring at pictures I hadn’t had time to look at before.
I was also getting buzzed. I’d basically been drinking all afternoon and had now switched to brandy. I walked around the house and came across a wall filled with photos. I had seen the wall earlier in the day, but I hadn’t had time to look or study the pictures up close.
My eyes fell on a picture of a much younger Boyd with some other guys and a girl who looked about the same age. He had long hair almost to his shoulders and didn’t have a lick of facial hair.
In the photo, he was holding a saxophone.
Boyd was in a band?
One of the guys had a guitar strapped around his neck, another one was holding a bass guitar, and another was sitting behind a drum kit. Then there was the singer, a girl, holding a microphone. She was the one who stood out the most out of the bunch, as lead singers often do. She was pretty, her heart-shaped face framed by short blonde hair. Her features were highlighted by her red lipstick, and she was wearing a faded Nirvana shirt with a mini skirt and combat boots. She looked like the singer of a punk band. I was confused, because I didn’t think I had ever seen or heard of a punk band with a sax player.
My eyes went back to Boyd, and I studied his expression. He looked so young, so different, but one thing was familiar: his scowl. Oh, teenage angsty Boyd.
It seemed really strange, though. I had never heard him talk about music, even though music was such an important part of his family. There was always music playing in this house. I had noticed that the year before, too. That time, Lou and his father were playing a duet on the piano. Now, Ella joined them by singing the old Ella Fitzgerald tune the father and son were playing.
I turned around and looked at the photo again.
I wondered why Boyd had never said a word about it. He wasn’t the type of person to be shy about his accomplishments. I was shocked he hadn’t boasted about playing the saxophone. That alone would have gained some sexy points in my book—not that he really needed them, but still.
There was just something about a saxophone that was hard to resist.
I wondered if it was because sax sounded like sex. I giggled to myself, nursing my glass of brandy.
I found a spot on the couch and sat down, listening to my friends play and sing. At some point, I must have zoned out, because I didn’t even realize Boyd had arrived. He started working the room, saying hi to everyone. It was only when he was a few feet away from me that I heard his deep voice and looked up.
He found me on the couch and when our gazes locked, his eyes were brightened by the huge smile that stretched across his face.
My heart started hammering against my rib cage, and I couldn’t stop the happy feeling spreading throughout my chest. His smile turned into a lusty, dark look when his eyes slid over me. He headed in my direction, but was stopped and greeted by a couple older ladies just a few steps away from where I was sitting. He was all smiles as they paid him compliments.
“My oh my, Jackson Rivers, aren’t you the strapping young man?” said one of the ladies.
“You sure have become quite the big boy!” said the other. I bit my lip, trying to contain my laughter, but I couldn’t stop it. Boyd kept stealing glances my way and was fighting a smile. He pointed a finger at me when the ladies weren’t looking. The mischievous look in
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