“Oh, I thought you meant the waitress.”
“What’s going on over there that you thought she would have been freaked out, and why am I not included?” He raises one eyebrow, then dips his head to look under the table.
I pick up my drink and down half of it without using the straw so I can formulate a response that doesn’t make me look crazy or like a schoolgirl with her first crush… Is that what this is? It feels like a lot more than a crush.
“Look, Bates will be on soon,” Memphis says, drawing the attention away from me and up to the stage.
Another waitress approaches the mic with a wide smile. “You guys are not ready for this.” She talks over the house music, but the volume lowers until disappearing altogether. “Some of us were lucky enough to see his show this weekend, and he was so good, we brought him back to hear him again. Please welcome Bates and his cello.” She turns to the side and claps while watching Bates haul his instrument over to the chair placed center stage.
The bright lights shine down on his brown hair, making the strands look lighter and his skin a little tanner. “Thank you,” he says softly through a mic set up near his mouth. His hands are moving over the strings near the top of the cello as if he’s already playing music.
Without another word, he lifts his bow and drags it across the strings, and I’m entranced from the first note. The familiar tune of “A Thousand Years” sings through the club, and everyone takes notice.
Bates moves his upper body with his hands, feeling the music, but he makes it look easy. As soon as the song ends, people erupt in applause, but he transitions into the next, barely seeming to notice.
The next song takes me a little longer to figure out, but when he hits the chorus, I realize it’s “Hello.” The song has always been sad, but the cello adds so much depth, my heart aches.
The next song is quicker. He bounces the bow over the strings and looks up a few times while playing, but his eyes are unfocused as he bobs his head with the music. “Is this…”
“‘WAP’? Yeah. My favorite.” Oswald grins.
Bates mesmerizes the crowd with songs I would never have imagined could be played by the cello, let alone sound so beautiful. When he finishes up the cover of “Hold Me While You Wait,” he finally rests his bow across his thigh and leans into the mic. He has to wait for the applause to stop, but when it slows, he says, “Thank you. You can follow me at Bates and his Cello for future events.” His eyes flow over to our table, and I can see the curl of his lips behind the mic. “This is my last song for the night, and it’s for you guys.” He points at the table with his bow.
A giddy feeling swirls in my stomach, even though I know I’m just a spectator like everyone else in the club, but when the music starts, I sink into the melody of “Can’t Help Falling in Love.”
A few couples move onto the dance floor and sway along with the song. I lean to the side so I can see around them and watch Bates. My head ends up almost on Oswald’s shoulder.
“I hope you look at me like that when I’m on the field. I’m feeling a little left out.”
I snap my mouth closed and dart my eyes up. He’s wearing a teasing smile, but something about his soft tone makes me feel like there’s a hint of truth to his words and an underlying vulnerability he doesn’t show often.
“I won’t have any idea what’s going on, but I’ll be there.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.” He starts to clap as the song ends, and I do the same. “I bet none of your other boyfriends played football,” he says louder to be heard over the applause and whistles.
I shake my head in denial, glad it’s too loud to explain that I haven’t had other boyfriends.
“We can get going once he comes out,” Memphis tells me, draining the last of his drink. I’m only now realizing the waitress never returned to our table during the show.
“Do you mind letting me out?” I look between the two of them. I might as well go to the bathroom before we leave.
Memphis doesn’t budge. “Where are you going?” Oswald starts to scoot out before I answer.
“The bathroom.”
“I’ll go too. Wait for me by the door when you’re done if I’m not out,” Oswald says, taking my hand as I rise. I haven’t even been sitting that long, maybe an hour or two, but my legs are stiff when I get up.
I have to wait in a short line while he walks straight to the door. “You can come with me,” he offers with a raised eyebrow.
“I’ll come with you, around you, over you, any way you like it,” the girl in front of me says. I gawk at the side of her face, seeing her eyes are half closed and her head is swaying from side to side slightly. She’s been drinking.
“Sorry, offer’s only good for my girl. I’ll wait for you to get out.”
“Who’s his girl?” She blinks as if she’s trying to focus.
I lift my hand slowly when her eyes land on me.
“He’s gorgeous. Is he…?” She waggles her pinkie finger and lists to the side. “The good-looking ones always have something wrong with them.”
