God, he looks gorgeous. Slightly disheveled, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, hair falling over his eyes, and nose pink from our days of sailing. As if all that weren’t enough to have me drooling, he has to whip out a secret musical talent? It’s like a double Cupid shot right to the ass.
We lock eyes as he starts to play a familiar riff. Itilt my head.?*
No.
Yes, he flashes me a grin, and then starts singing. Terribly.
“I was cheated by you, and I think you know when…”
He stumbles through the first verse, laughing through every word as I clutch my gaping mouth, dually endeared and impressed by his commitment.
Don’t leave me hanging,he begs halfway through the chorus.
Fuck it.
I jump out of my seat and shout back, “Yes, I’ve been brokenhearted, blue since the day we parted. Why, why did I ever let you go!”
He joins in again, “Mamma Mia, now I really kno-ow, my, my, I could never let you go!”
The deck bursts into wild applause. His smile warms my entire body, starting at my toes and traveling upward. It’s contagious, that smile. I don’t recall moving my feet, but suddenly I’m standing right in front of him.
“You remembered.”
He scoffs. “Of course I did. Spring Break. Panama City.”
“Never forget.”
“RIP Annie.” He kisses his hand and lifts it toward the sky.
“I miss her,” I admit, barely above a whisper.
“She’s right here.” He rubs the spot over his heart. I clear my throat, pushing away the melancholy thought.
“How come you never told me you played guitar?”
He shrugs. “It never came up.”
“Color me impressed.”
He reaches up to scratch the stubble on his jaw. “Well, I learned that one for you.”
Warmth flares in my chest. “You did?”
Before he can answer, someone bumps into me, sloshing ale down the front of my top.
“Apologies, lady—” the pirate stops short, gaping at me. “Oye. It’s you.”
“Me?” I point to myself, glancing between him and Zadyn as if he’s going to have some explanation.
“Yes,you. Chair girl!”
“I’m sorry—what?”
“The tavern in Iaspus—you broke a chair over my back. You were there too.” He jabs a finger at Zadyn. “All of you.”
He turns around, lifts up his shirt, and points over his shoulder to the faint scar between the faded black ink. “Never healed proper. Wood splinter I waited too long to get out.”
“Oh, uh, sorry about that.”
