When it ended, when the applause died down and people started filtering toward the bar, I thought maybe I could escape.
“Excuse me?”
A guy in a headset materialized beside our table. Young, eager smile, the kind that suggested he hadn’t learned yet how life was mostly crushing disappointments punctuated by brief moments of dog-related joy.
“Cole was wondering if you’d like to come backstage.”
My heart stopped.
The guy waited, still smiling, and I had three seconds to decide if I was brave enough to say yes.
“Absolutely not.”
Brynn kicked me under the table. Hard.
“Ow! What the…”
“We’dloveto come backstage.” Brynn turned her smile on him, bright enough to guide ships to shore.
Headset Guy beamed. “Great! Just follow me.”
He walked away.
I turned to Brynn, channeling every ounce of betrayal into one look. “What are you doing?”
She stood, grabbed her purse. “Saving you from yourself. Come on.”
“He doesn’t want to meet me. He probably wants to meet you. You’re…” I gestured at all of her. “You know. You.”
“Autumn Marie Winters, I watched him stare at you for an entire song like you were the only person in this bar. He forgot the chords.Forgot them.”
“He did not.”
Jess shifted in her seat. “He did. It was obvious.”
“I’m just here for the drama.” Eli followed.
My heart hammered. This was insane. Cole Stone was a gorgeous musician who probably had groupies in every city. I was a broke rescue owner who smelled like a wet dog on good days.
Headset Guy led us down a narrow hallway that reeked of beer, past a bathroom that had seen better decades, to a door with a paper sign reading “GREEN ROOM” in Sharpie.
He knocked.
“Yeah?” Cole’s voice sent heat spiraling through my stomach.
“Got some guests for you.”
“Send them in!”
The green room was the size of a living room. Ratty couch. Cole sat on the couch’s arm, bass propped against the wall, water bottle in hand.
He looked up.
Our eyes met, and his smile spread across his face like the sunrise.
“You came.”
His voice did unfair things to me. Things I hadn’t felt since my early twenties, when I’d still believed in fairy tales.
