“It’s one last blowout before our heads are stuffed in books and we’re drowning in study and exams. The gang is all here. You couldn’t have sat this one out.” Nudging me in the side, she grins like a loon as she directs her attention to where Garrick is performing on stage.
It’s Saturday night, and he must be exhausted because he also played a set at The End Zone last night. I was on shift. My last one until next semester because I’m finishing up early to concentrate on my upcoming exams, and then I’m heading back to Seattle for summer break.
Last night was even busier than his opening night, if that’s possible, and it was pretty hellish. I was dead on my feet by the time I flopped into my bed at three a.m. I barely got a second to myself all night, and the only break I managed to grab was a ten-minute breather with Garrick during his interval.
We’ve settled into an easy friendship despite the frisson of electricity that threatens to zap us every time we’re together. I’m sure it will die down in time. Right now, I like hanging out with him, and I’m not inspecting that further.
Garrick asked me to come out tonight, and I initially said no. This sports bar is on the other side of town and notorious for underage drinking and bar fights. I tend to avoid it. Besides, I had planned on studying until Ellen badgered me into coming out. It was that or listen to her relentless list of reasons why I should go on a repetitive loop all afternoon.
Seemed counterproductive, so here I am.
Squeezed into a tight-fitting black lace crop top that makes the girls appear bigger and ripped black skinny jeans with high heeled boots, I know I look good. My hair hangs down my back in soft waves, and my makeup is on point. I’m in a great mood, on a buzz and enjoying myself, though that could be the three beers I’ve had or the stream of heated looks leveled my way from the gorgeous man on the stage.
When his eyes aren’t closed, lost in a song, Garrick has been keeping me in his sights. He has barely taken his eyes off me, and the girls shoving and pushing one another at the front of the stage, competing for his attention, are starting to notice. The next time he looks over here, I make a slicing motion across my neck in a “cut it out” maneuver.
Sitting up there, with the lights shining down on him, a guitar on his lap, and a mic at his lips, he looks like he was born to be a rocker. The sleeves of the tight black shirt he’s wearing are rolled up, showcasing delicious arm porn, and a hint of smooth skin peeks out from the unbuttoned opening at his neck. A few leather bands wrap around one wrist, and a thick silver chain rests low on his collarbone. I’m fascinated by the veins in his arms and the way his muscles flex and roll as he plucks the guitar strings. Watching his long slim fingers expertly work the guitar sends a tremor of heat shooting through my nether regions.
Not that I’m imagining those fingers working their magic on me.
I’m not imagining that at all.
Friends don’t have those kinds of thoughts about friends.
And that’s all we are.
F.R.I.E.N.D.S.
I hate that I keep needing to remind myself.
Garrick’s messy hair hangs around his gorgeous face like tangled dark sheets. Navy denims and scuffed black boots complete the look. It’s understated, and I doubt it took him long to get ready, but he’s one tempting package, that’s for sure.
He belongs up there.
It’s a shame to waste such talent, but I would never tell any person how to live their life. Garrick is close to his family, and he’s proud of their business. Sparks glow in his eyes when he talks about them, in the same way it does when he talks about music. It’s clear he’s not being forced into the family business. He has chosen it, and I sense it’s a source of pride for him. There is nothing wrong with that. Even if I look up at the god on the stage and wonder how he can turn his back on something that could be a major deal for him.
Garrick announces a break, and Will and Cohen head to the bar to grab more beers before we join him in his dressing room backstage.
Noah barges into the room without knocking. “Oh, shit,” he exclaims as the rest of us pile into the small space. “I didn’t know you had company.” Rubbing the back of his neck, Noah glances at me with a slightly apologetic expression.
I swallow over a lump in my throat at the scene in front of me. A stunning girl, with long sheets of straight golden-blonde hair, is pressed against Garrick, smiling up at him like he put the stars in the sky. She’s teeny and petite, and if it wasn’t for the skyscraper heels on her feet, she would barely reach his chest. Dainty hands rest on his bare lower arms where they hang at his sides. Her delicate curves are draped in a black bandage-style minidress, and she looks every inch a rock star’s princess.
The chicken I ate at dinner threatens to make a reappearance, so I turn around, mumbling about needing the bathroom, and hightail it out of there.
I berate myself the entire way across the crowded bar for acting so recklessly. I should have gritted my teeth, forced a fake smile, and stood my ground. Now, I look like I care more than a friend should.
I am an idiot, I grumble to myself, ducking away from a clearly drunken guy who stumbles toward me and racing into the safety of the bathroom. It’s busy, but there is one stall free at the end. Girls are huddled against the sinks on my left, fighting for mirror space, as I pass by them. A girl with a crop top and minuscule matching skirt eyeballs me through the mirror, scowling as she gives me a once-over. “Bitch,” she says before I dive into the stall and shut the door.
That is all I need. Garrick’s groupies targeting me in a place known for fights.
I knew I should not have come out tonight.
Whatever buzz I was feeling is long gone.
But I won’t go home and look like even more of a loser. To save face, I’ve got to get back out there.
This isn’t an issue. It’s a good thing if he’s planning to hook up with that girl. It helps solidify the friendship line between us.
“Stevie!” Ellen shouts to be heard over the noise in the bathroom. “Where are you, babe?”
