The crowd cheered, and as we walked off the stage, I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face. The adrenaline was still surging through me, but there was something else too—a deep sense of belonging. Like I was home.
“Alright,” Josh said, a devious grin growing across his lips as he threw an arm across my shoulders. “Now the fun begins.”
****
Josh suggested we head to a bar across town to let the adrenaline of the show run its course, and who I was I to say no to a Saturday night out in the city? I could hear the clinking of glasses and the low hum of conversation as I made my way to the bar while the rest of the guys split off to chat with some people they knew in the back.
It wasn’t a big place, but it was packed. The lights above the bar flickered a little as I leaned onto the bar top to flag down the bartender, ordering a whiskey neat when he approached.
"Great show tonight," a voice said from beside me. I turned, surprised. I assumed if someone was going to approach us after a show, it’d be to talk to Josh or Max. I turned to see a beautiful woman in her mid-twenties standing a few feet away, a shy smile on her face. She had long brown hair and was wearing a distressed denim jacket and black tank top and leggings. She wasn’t overly tall, but her presence was enough to make me take notice.
“Lena,” she said, extending a hand.
“Eric,” I said, taking her hand in mine.
“Would you like to…” she trailed off, nodding to the empty bar stools beside us. I nodded my head, and she smiled before sliding into one of the stools. I sat down next to her as her deep green eyes locked with mine.
“Can I get you a drink?” I asked.
“Vodka soda would be great, thanks.”
I flagged the bartender down and ordered her drink before turning my attention back to her, unsuccessfully fighting off a grin when I saw her eyes had been locked on me the entire time.
“So, you were at the show?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’ve seen Velvet Shadows play a few times, but goddamn, you guys are on another level now with Josh as the vocalist.”
I smiled and took another sip of my whiskey as the bartender set her glass of vodka soda in front of her. We made small talk, and she did nothing to hide the fact that she was interested in taking this elsewhere by touching me any chance she got, but I stalled by keeping the conversation going as long as possible, unsure if I was ready for this—inviting a stranger back to my apartment.
Maybe she’d invite me back to her place? Or would we hook up in the back of her car in the parking lot? I was so unsure how all of this worked, and I felt incredibly unprepared. I never imagined my first show with the guys would end likethis. My leg bounced nervously as the minutes ticked by, and the adrenaline rush from the show morphed into a completely different sort of nervous energy.
I glanced around the bar to see the guys sitting at a booth in the back, miming cheering gestures and egging me on. I stifled a laugh as I turned my attention back to Lena, weighingthe options in my head as I half listened to her tell me about what she did for a living.
Pros: She was beautiful. Funny. Charming. Clothes clinging to an incredible body full of curves I’d love to explore very,veryslowly.
Cons: She was a complete stranger. She could be a psychopath. Like a stalker or a serial killer or something.
Yeah, Idefinitelydon’t want her knowing where I live.
She finished her drink and set it back onto the bar.
“I swear to god I don’t normally do this,” she said, looking back into my eyes. I swallowed as she gently touched my arm.Oh shit. Here it comes.“But would you like to come back to my place?”
“I don’t kiss and tell,” I say, watching Ty shift uncomfortably in her seat across from me. “So, I’ll spare you the details.”
“But you hooked up with her?” she asks, eyes flicking to me for a second before she looks back down at her notes.
“Does it matter?”
“It’s your story, so I guess that’s for you to decide,” she says, and I make her sweat for a bit before I give my reply, pretending to think it over.
“Then no, it doesn’t matter.” She looks up at me, and even though I know her well enough to know she’s trying not to care, I can see in her eyes how hearing about women I’ve been with in the past affects her, and I can’t blame her. If I had to sit here and listen to her talk about the men she’s been with, I’d want to carry her back to that bedroom, lock us inside, and worship that incredible body over and over again until the only one she remembered being with was me.
She looks back to her notes, and I want to tell her that while, yes, I’ve had my fair share of hookups, the only person I’ve even thought about being with in the last five years is her. But I force myself to keep quiet. I know by now that she won’t believe anything I say, especially when it comes to how I feel about her, so I let the moment pass.
“Do you want me to change her name?” she asks, tapping her pen on the paper. “You know, to protect the innocent.”
“No need,” I say, winking.
