She tilts her head to one side, which lets the strap of her denim overalls fall just off her shoulder and over her flannel button down shirt. I figured she wasn't big on formal wear and dresses, but there's something so refreshing that she wanted to get into her comfort clothes the second she could following the ceremony. I can relate to that. Jeans and t-shirt, or maybe a flannel, is always what I feel most comfortable in.
I turn my palms up in surrender. I never want to hide anything from her and I want to make sure she knows that. I don’t even think I could hide something from her if I wanted to. “Whatever you want.”
There are so many things in my past, even in my present, thatI would rather keep to myself. There's a reason I’m a private person and only let in people I trust.
Shit. She could ask me if I’m into her and I’d tell her the truth.
I scan her face, watching her eyes beam as she considers what to ask. “So I can really ask you anything I want? Aren't you worried I’ll ask about something scandalous and go to the tabloids with the sordid details?”
Shrugging, I reach over, grabbing my beer back from her. My fingers graze the backs of hers, sending sparks up my arm like I just hit the perfect note on a guitar solo. I take the last pull of my beer. “I won’t count that as your question,” I say, giving her a wink. “There’d have to be something scandalous in my past, but sure. I told you the rules. Ask whatever you want. I'll answer.”
Her forest green eyes narrow on me like she doesn't believe it's that simple.
I tip my beer at her. “Besides, I trust you. That’s not the kind of person you are. Now ask. I know you've got something you've wanted to ask about.”
She holds her chin between her thumb and forefinger in thought, her lips part just before asking. “What Teal Tigers’ song was your favorite?”
“Really? That’s the best you got? I’ll give you a do-over if you ask me something you can’t Google.”
She throws her head back and groans. “Fine.”
I watch as her gaze lowers to my hand holding the beer, exactly where I figured she would start.
“What doesthatmean?” She points down at my hand, or more specifically, the tattoo wrapped around my ring finger.
I stare at my finger, looking at the small music notes tattooed in a ring around it. I still remember the day I got it. Not my first tattoo, but the one I was so damn excited about getting. I got it right after we landed our first record deal. Now,it’s just a reminder of something that’s gone, something that left me. Well, two things that are gone and left me.
“You know the rules, sir.” Grace tips her empty champagne flute, highlighting the lack of contents. “Answer or you’re getting a drink.”
I roll my neck, exhaling as I hold out the empty beer in front of me, tilting my hand back and forth, inspecting the small notes. “Music was my first love. In my teens and early twenties, it was everything to me. It consumed me. Every thought, every idea, every action - I loved it and lived for it.”
When I look up, her eyes have softened. She’s wearing a kind, compassionate expression, hanging on each word. My words.
“Is that a good enough answer?” I deadpan.
“Yes, it was.” Her expression shifts into a devious smirk. “And you just wasted your question.”
“Oh, come on.”
“Nope. They’re your rules. My turn again.” She hums thoughtfully, playfully grinning back at me. Instantly, I don’t care that she snuck that one by me. Seeing a genuine smile on her face sends warmth all the way through to my bones.
I mock glare at her as she takes her time picking her next question. I raise my hand and look down at my bracelets like they're a watch, gesturing for her to hurry up. Her eyes lock on my hand again.
“Was that your only love? Music?”
Yeah, maybe a cheap shot of tequila is a better trade than answering this question.
“I’m sure you know my dating history, or lack thereof. It’s all out there on the internet.”
She looks unamused at my answer. “I know I could look up your dating history, but that wasn’t my question. I asked if music is your only love.”
My hand clenches the bottle and my answer comes out as areflex. “Was, not is.” Shit. That came out harsher than I meant for it to. I can see it by how her eyes widen and her lips part like a deer caught in headlights, not knowing how to react to that. “And yes, itwasmy only love.” There was a time when I might of answered that differently, but it’s been the truth to me for years.
“I’m sorry. I thought you said I could ask anything.”
I reach out and grab her hand. To my surprise, she doesn't pull back. I wrap my fingers around hers, rubbing small circles across the back of her hand.
“I did say that, you’re right. It’s just an old wound that feels like it never closes.”
