By the second verse, I’m smiling, even if it’s half-hearted. And by the final note, I’m laughing because I’m absolutely sure I’m the worst karaoker to ever karaoke.
But my voice was heard.
It’s a win.
The applause starts in the back, Chief’s voice followed by his signature whistle cutting through the silence until the other patrons begrudgingly give an unenthused clap.
I curtsy like a freaking idiot, then run off stage, grabbing Valen by the hand and sliding back into the safety of our booth with flushed cheeks and not nearly enough alcohol in my system.
“I did it,” I whisper.
“You did.” Valen grins, but his gaze is on the exit, and that spark of loneliness I was feeling flickers.
“I was terrible,” I say, picking at the cuticle that’s annoying me.
“You were loud and brave.”
“Were you even paying attention?” I ask as he turns his attention from one exit to the next. I focus on dragging my finger through the condensation on the water glass in front of me. “I missed like half the notes?—”
“Clover.” He doesn’t say anything else until I look at him. “You were perfect.”
“You weren’t even paying attention. Your eyes were on?—”
“The exits, and you. I was…”
“I know, you were protecting me.” It doesn’t sound like a compliment, and I internally scold myself for sounding so ungrateful.
I’m so out of sorts.
He curls his long fingers under my chin, and then he’s gently guiding my face up. It’s becoming a bad habit of ours—me hiding, him pulling me into the moment.
The way he’s staring at me, like I’m…precious, makes it impossible to form a coherent thought.
“Keeping you safe will always come first, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t see you. I do. I willalwayssee you.”
Chief very loudly clears his throat. “Your turn, son.”
“What?” Valen snaps.
“Clover gets to pick your song. Them’s the rules.”
I snort out a laugh.
“Those are not the rules.”
“Yup. Already told the KJ.” Chief’s grinning like he’s won the lottery. “Better get up there.”
I’m cackling now, gasping for air. “Oh, this is happening.”
“Clover, no.”
I slide to the end of the booth and press my lips to his ear. “Valen,” I breathe. “Say yes. Five seconds of bravery, remember?”
“I hate you.” But the way he says it, with the growl low in his throat, and blatant lust in his eyes, I know it’s a lie.
“No,” I purr. “You don’t.”
Who am I tonight? More importantly, how do I become her more often? The way Valen is staring at me, like he’s undressing me one stitch at a time, is a combustible energy that doesn’t happen between just anyone.
