I slip into my ripped jeans, throw on a black silk shirt, and step into a pair of sparkly pink strappy stilettos. My hair tumbles over my shoulders in loose waves, grazing my ribs. I’ve opted for sheer, glowy, neutral make-up and have emphasised my lips with a pink glossy tint. I’ve accessorised with a sparkly bag, a thick gold chain around my neck, and matching small hoops.
I look at my reflection in the mirror, and I feel sexy in this outfit. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this confident about myself.
After polishing off our bubbly, we quickly down a shot of Dutch courage before finally jumping on the underground. I’m nicely buzzed, the warmth from the alcohol rippling through my body.
Out of the tube, the streets teem with life as people eagerly head out for their Friday night adventures. When we arrive atthe Mayfair Lounge, it’s busier than I expected—hopefully, in part, because the crowd is here to see Atlas Veil. Lively chatter fills the space while groups of people dance and sing, swaying to the pulsing music on the dance floor.
We order a round of margaritas, enjoying sips of the sweet, tangy citrus as we find a free booth. Sliding in, I tap my fingers to the beat against my glass, trying to distract myself from the butterflies taking flight in my stomach.
Gemma’s voice suddenly cuts through my daze. “How are you feeling?” she asks.
“For the hundredth time, I’m fine,” I reply.
Anna scoffs, and I look at her, raising my eyebrows expectantly.
“What? We all know that when someone says they’refine, they’re totally not fine.”
Damn it. She has a point.
“What time is he playing again?” Gemma asks.
I shrug, checking the time on my phone. “They should be on any minute now.”
The music abruptly cuts off, and partygoers turn their heads towards the main stage, now illuminated by spotlights. Anna nudges my knee with her own, playfully pumping her eyebrows. Gemma laughs, and I roll my eyes, unable to keep from smiling. These girls have been my lifeline these past few months—the sunshine after the rain.
Then, a voice booms through the speakers.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please give it up for our favourite band, Atlas Veil!”
The crowd erupts in cheers and applause as the band approaches the stage.
“There he is,” Anna says, nudging my knee again.
“I have eyes, Anna—I can see,” I reply, as heat flushes my body.
“You’re turning red,” Gemma says, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She leans closer, pointing an accusatory finger at me. “It’s so cute that you have a crush!”
I touch my hands to my cheeks, trying to hide the flush. “Shut up, it’s the alcohol and my rosacea—you know this,” I protest, though I can’t help but smile at Gemma’s teasing.
It’s definitelynotalcohol or a skin condition.
I turn back and watch as Tom occupies centre stage, adjusting the microphone stand while he flicks his long, black hair out of his eyes. The other band members position themselves at their instruments, and my gaze fixes on James. He runs his fingers through his sandy waves, and I notice he’s forgone his usual leather jacket tonight. Instead, he’s wearing only dark jeans and a charcoal T-shirt that shows off his thick biceps and veiny forearms. The top stretches tightly across his strong-set shoulders, fitting him like a second skin.
Reaching into his front pocket, he retrieves his guitar pick, then slings the bass strap over his shoulder, ready to pluck the strings.
Holy shit. This man is a walking wet dream.
“Okay, April. I know he’s your ex-fiancé’s brother and I’m married, but it has to be said—the guy looks like he can fuck,” Anna says.
“What?” I ask, taken aback.
“Just look at him. You can’t deny the man is a total sex god,” Anna says.
“I second that,” Gemma chimes in.
“I guess I can see what you mean,” I say, playing it cool, taking a long, thoughtful sip. As I lower my glass, James lifts his head and his eyes meet mine. The corner of his mouth twitches and his eyes light up. He shoots me a subtle nod before shifting his focus back to the bass.
Anna and Gemma exchange a knowing look. My best friends can see right through me. I can deny it until I’m blue in the face, but I can’t argue the fact that he’s gorgeous, or that I find him irresistible.
