“Okay, fine. I agree. He’s a total sex god.”
Does that make me a bad person? Ever since we bumped into each other at the café, James has occupied my mind. It doesn’t matter what I’m doing, my thoughts seek him out. The way I’m drawn to him terrifies me—it’s magnetic, consuming, something totally unlike what I felt with Lucas.
And that’s what scares me most.
If it didn’t work out, if I was just another fleeting moment to him, another night easily discarded, could I handle it? He’s never been in a relationship as long as I’ve known him. Could he break my heart just as deeply, just as carelessly?
My eyes flit over the stage as Oliver starts twirling his drumsticks while Will grips the neck of his guitar, opening and closing his hand in preparation to play.
Tom introduces the band, and the bar bursts with applause as Oliver launches into his drum intro before the rest of the guys step in.
The energy in the room surges, and I glance around, taking in the sight of everyone’s beaming faces. James bobs his head slightly as he plucks the strings, the veins in his hands working as he skilfully runs his fingers along the bass frets.
We finish our margaritas and order a round of gin and tonics, and Gemma tugs me towards the dance floor. As the music pulses, I sway my hips and sing along, letting the rhythm take over. Anna throws her arms up and moves effortlessly with the beat. I tilt my head back and allow the music to consume me. My mind is free. I feel peace.
I seize the moment, embracing the sense of worthiness that comes from knowing I deserve real love and happiness—a lovelike my parents shared and the unwavering happiness my best friends bring into my life. Tonight, I let go of the past and allow myself to truly live again.
Sweat glistens on my skin as we dance. I face the stage and catch James’s eyes watching me, strong as steel. His gaze roves over me with an intense, almost ravenous look that makes my heart murmur. I offer him a smile and lift my glass in a silent toast. The breath is nearly knocked out of me when he returns the gesture with a dazzling smile. I’m talking dimple-deepening, pulse-accelerating, megawatt smile.
“You are so screwed,” Gemma says, shouting in my ear over the music, and I quickly turn my attention to her.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“You two can’t keep your eyes off each other.”
“It’s not like that,” I say.
“April, the sexual tension between you is about as subtle as a boner at church,” Anna yells over the music.
“We’re not giving you a hard time,” Gemma says, touching my forearm. “There’s nothing wrong with it. In fact, it’s lovely. I’m just saying you don’t have to deny it anymore. There’s clearly something between you two.” Her gaze darts between James and me.
I glance back at James and find him still watching me. Mulling over their words, I step away.
“I’ll be back,” I tell them. I swing by the bar and catch the bartender’s eye, ordering a tequila shot and downing it quickly before zipping to the bathroom to freshen up. After washing my hands, I reapply my gloss and tousle my hair until I’m satisfied with my reflection. Feeling sure of myself, I straighten, shoulders pulled back, push open the bathroom door, and step into the hallway, ready to return to the dance floor—only to slam right into what feels like a solid brick wall.
Scratch that—a chest.
A hard, sweaty chest.
“Ooft,” I mutter on impact.
Two large hands grip my shoulders, steadying me.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to run into—” I look up, staring into pools of sea glass as James ducks his chin to read my expression. “I was just heading back to the girls,” I say.
“Are you okay?”
Ah. That velvet-smooth, deep voice.
“I’m fine, thank you,” I say, adjusting my shirt and necklace.
He nods, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I’m glad you came. You look …” He clears his throat. “You look great.”
“Thank you,” I say, casting my eyes down nervously.
“You’re blushing,” he says with a glint in his eyes, and I instinctively clap my hands over my cheeks.
“I am not blushing. I have rosacea. It’s the tequila.”
