I nod to the DJ, and he starts the track. The tinny karaoke instrumentals of the original recording ofPretty Hard to Findseep into the room through the speakers. I keep my eyes on Decker who stiffens as the music starts, his shoulders losing the nonchalance they held seconds ago. Maleko turns around first, a broad smile lighting up his tan face. I fill my lungs, squeezing my eyes shut as I send up a quick prayer that this is enough to at least get Decker to talk to me.
The first few words come out soft and subdued and rife with nerves. As my voice floods the room, I open my eyes. Decker is now facing me. Staring up at me.Smilingat me. Adrenaline takes over as I power through the song, my eyes never leaving his. Seeing him smile at me is like chugging a big glass of water after singing until all the moisture has left my mouth. Refreshing. Nourishing.Needed.
When I hit the bridge, Decker begins making his way toward me, navigating through the packed bodies like we’re two magnets destined to reconnect. And we are. Well, at least that’s how I feel. I hope he does too.
He stops when he reaches the front row, standing beneath me, gazing up at me with that adoration I never deserved but he always gave me anyway. In one sizable step, he places a foot on the apron of the rickety stage. With a smirk, he pushes up to my level so we’re face to face as the song transitions into the instrumental break. There are whistles as he steps closer, my heart thudding in my chest harder than the bass from the amp nearby.
“Hi,” he shouts over the music.
“Hi.” Suddenly, I’ve completely forgotten a single thing I wanted to say to him. He’s talking to me. That’s more than I expected.
“I heard you were in town.”
“I heard you were posting my song lyrics.”
He shrugs. “It’s a good song.”
“Did you have to Google them?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve known them since your first album.”
I arch a brow, ready to dispute because there’s no way that’s true, but then again, Decker has been nothing but honest with me from the jump.
The instrumental portion ends, and it’s time to sing again. Before I can utter a word, Decker pulls the microphone from the stand and starts in on the last couple of verses. Honestly, he’s not a bad singer. I would have never guessed.
I bite back a smile, completely elated to be in such close proximity to him again and excited by the fact that, despite loving this man, I still have so much to learn about him. And I want to. I want to know every tiny detail of Decker Trace. The good, the bad, the downright embarrassing. His mom’s story of him puking on the sidelines pops into my head, and as disgusted as I should be by it, nothing can scare me away now. Stories of his past only add to his irresistible layers.
Watching Decker sing, I laugh in shock of this entire situation. The fake relationship, the fact that he’s here now, that I don’t think he hates me like I believed he would. Joss stands halfway through the crowd next to some big dude I can’t quite make out. I assume it’s Cole. She gives me an over-the-top thumbs up and her cheesiest smile. I cheese right back.
When the song ends, everyone goes nuts. Decker and I link together like we’re in some Broadway show, lifting our clasped hands above our heads and dipping down into a deep bow. My fingers tingle at his touch, and my body goes berserk when he helps me down off the stage and leads me out the back door. We park by the deplorable dumpster, and I couldn’t care less. The ketchup and stale beer stench is quickly replaced with the smell of Decker. I breathe it in, not knowing how long I’ll have the opportunity, how long he’ll stay. I don’t know if this is the last time I’ll see him, but even if our last moments together are in this wretched alley, I’m just glad to have them at all. We press our backs against the cool brick wall beside the exit out of the glow of The Malted Mule’s security lights.
“You’re a pretty good singer, you know,” I say, turning to face him.
“You’re not so bad yourself.”
I nudge him with a fist, and he rubs his shoulder where I prodded him. It feels natural, and fear immediately strikes through me that this is all too good to be true. How can he act so normal after how I denied him?
I suck in a deep breath. Time to rip off the proverbial bandage. “I miss you. And I’m sorry.”
He stares at me for a few moments, his green eyes thawing into something soft and loving I’m not sure I’ve earned. “I missed you too, Lena. So much.”
It’s the confirmation I need to plow through what I have to say. “I’m sorry I acted like I didn’t care. I do care. A lot.Sometimes it’s so much it scares me.” My gaze drops to my feet at the admission. “I know this started as something fake to salvage my career, but, Decker…” I chew my bottom lip as I finally let my eyes meet his again. “None of that matters as much as you do. You’re the realest thing I’ve ever known and the only thing I care about fixing is us.”
“Us?”It’s like he’s trying the word on for size.
I chew my lip again, nodding as I wait for him to process everything.
His eyes widen. “You want to be an ‘us’ forreal?”
“I’ve never wanted anything more, Decker. I love you.”
He steps forward, sighing heavily as he pulls me into his arms, kissing the top of my head as I melt into him. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”
“Let me guess. Three months?” I look up at him, my chin pressing into his sternum as I do.
He shakes his head.
I take a step back, my face contorting. “The gala was three months ago.”
