The man who was supposed to be the love of my life for the night, turned into the love of my life for the morning too, and has somehow over time, become something—someone—I never expected.
The man my mind goes to when I let it wander.
Not that I let it.
But I will forget about him, because he’ll forget about me.
Ducking through the crowd of young girls, I finally make it to the door where Duncan, the security guard Harley hired for the night, stands with his hands clenched together in front of his waist. He’s squared his shoulders to make himself look more threatening. Who he’s trying to intimidate in a small town where most of Olive’s fans are young girls, I will never know, but I don’t have time to ask him about it.
“Hey, Duncan. Could you let someone in for me?” I ask, and he nods, jaw clenched firmly shut on his expressionless face. He opens the heavy wooden door, and I see the top of Cole’s head towering over a group of teenage girls who huddle around him, begging for a selfie.
“Cole,” I shout, and his head snaps my way. The forced smile on his face turns genuine, but I ignore how it makes me feel. I wave him over, and while I notice how his body relaxes, I can’t ignore how mine sets on fire.
“Hi,” he says, leaning down to kiss me, but I turn my face, forcing his kiss to land on the corner of my lips. He awkwardly clears his throat. I’m not used to any kinds of public displays of affection, fake boyfriend or not. I mean, I don’t know the rules of being friends with benefits, but I just assumed that they didn’tshowaffection when other people were around. That, and we’re not at work where we have to pretend to be anything.
Right here, right now, we’re friends who have had sex a couple of times.
I don’t want to risk the lines blurring for either of us.
If we start with the public displays of affection now, I might never want to stop.
I don’t have the slightest urge to find out.
“Hi,” I reply, trying to not lose my breath at the sight of him, but my eyes drink him in anyway. Checking out your fuck buddy is allowed. Acting on it, though? No, no, no.
Not for me, anyway.
“Our table is right up the front,” I say to him, taking his hand in mine, leading us to our group of friends.
“You won’t kiss me hello, but you’ll hold my hand?” He whispers in my ear, goosebumps coating every part of me, and going by the cocky smirk on his face, he absolutely knows what he’s doing to me.
“I didn’t want to lose you in the crowd and risk you sending me another S.O.S.” I roll my eyes. “Speaking of, never use an S.O.S unless it’sactuallyimportant.” I take my seat, and he sits in the one beside me I’d reserved for him earlier.
“Noted.” He nods, his jaw ticking, and we both turn our attention to watch as Olive strums the intro to her next song.
“If you know me, you know I’m not open about…well anything,” she says, and the crowd laughs quickly, eagerly hanging onto her every word. “While I like to write about my own experiences, I don’t like to sing about them. It just so happens that the people around me live very fascinating lives, so I write songs about them instead.” She giggles, winking at her sisters and me, her fingers fiddling with the knobs on the top of her guitar. “This song is called ‘Toxic Water’, and it’s about a relationship that you can’t seem to break free from, no matter how hard you try. It’s also the song I submitted for the filmTwo Hearts, One Town.”
She takes a small step back from the microphone and pedal board at her feet before plucking the strings on her guitar, and the crowd falls completely silent.
When people talk about being able to hear a pin drop, you imagine hearing a faint sound of metal hitting the ground. But with the way Olive has captivated every single person in this room, I swear, you’d be able to hear someone drop a single feather.
And no one deserves it more.
***
Olive is packing up her equipment while Harley and Cassandra are talking to Bea at the bar, and Lizzie is flirting with a random guy in the back corner.
Which leaves Cole and me alone.
Together.
In a public place.
Without Olive to focus our attention on.
The way his eyes linger on my lips makes me shift in my seat. I see the want—no, need—written all over his face, and I can’t help but nibble my bottom lip. I notice his hands twitch by his sides, probably wanting to touch me as badly as I want him to, but knowing he can’t.
Not here, at least.
