“What are you doing?” I’m a little wobbly from the wine, and lean into him fully this time. Not careful. Not measured. Just, needing something solid. And he doesn’t flinch.
“I’m going to make you feel better. Trust me.” He guides me toward the door.
I stay pressed against him all the way down the stairs, out the front door, and onto the sidewalk. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” He gestures with his free hand to point in front of us. “It’s just a couple blocks ahead.”
“Going to your bedroom would have been so much easier.” I mumble in my alcohol-infused state.
“Yeah, until tomorrow.” He grumbles back. “Just keep walking Q. I’m trying really hard to be the good guy right now.”
“I thought you were the fun one.” I huff out, finding it hard not to pout just a little.
“Oh, you’re going to have fun.”
He steers me into an alley, and I stop walking, turning to face him. “Are you planning on murdering me?”
“Don’t be dumb.” His hand wraps around mine as he tugs me forward. “There’s a door right there.” He grabs the door handle to pull it open and motions for me to enter. “Go on. It’s safe. I promise.”
I step warily through the entrance and glance around, my nose crinkling as I spin back around to face him. “You brought me to a dive bar?”
“Not a dive bar.” He leads me further inside, then chuckles. “Well, okay, it is a little bit, but they’re good to me here. Let me do what I want.”
“Hey Mikey!” As if on cue, a tall guy behind the bar calls out a greeting. “Who you got there?”
His hand tightens around mine when I stumble slightly. Not possessive. Just steady. Like he’s making sure I don’t fall apart in more ways than one. He guides me toward the bar, stopping when we reach it. “Hey Joe, this is Quinn. We’re going to bang around a bit if you don’t mind.”
“Have at it.” He kicks his chin in the direction of a small stage, his eyes staying locked on my eye and cheek, but is kind enough not to ask about it. “Too early yet for the guys to go on.” He shares instead; I think more to me than Mikey. “You want a drink?”
“I’ll have my regular. She’ll take an ice water.” Mikey rattles off without asking me what I want.
“Hey, what if I want a regular?” A frown creasing between my brow as I swing my gaze to his.
“You need a water.” He swipes the bottle off the counter, twisting the top off before handing it to me. “Then we’ll see about a regular.” I watch as he lifts a shot glass of clear liquid to his lips and downs it in one swallow.
“Not fair.” I pout again.
“Drunk Q is adorable, but I don’t feel like cleaning up puke later.” He teases, his hand sliding against the small of my back as he guides me over to a small stage. There’s a setup for a band; a couple guitars sitting next to amps, a lone mic, and a set of drums. Before I can ask what we’re doing, his hands are undermy arms and lifting me onto the stage. He’s beside me a second later as he jumps up.
“Okay, come here.” He crooks his finger, and because, damn he looks cute doing that, I follow him, confusion setting in when he points to the stool behind the drums. “Sit.”
“Aren’t you the drummer?” I quip, taking a swig of the water.
“Not tonight.” His hands are on my waist a second later, gripping me lightly as he plops me down on the seat. “Here, take these.” He pulls a pair of drumsticks out of his back pocket,how did I not notice those, and hands them to me.
I stare at him, the sticks, and then him again. “Say what?”
“Give me your water.” He grabs it out of my fingers before I have a chance to respond to his order, and then he slaps the two sticks into my palm. “Play.”
“I-” I stutter, gaping up at him. “I don’t know how.”
He places the water on the ground, then moves behind me, wrapping his arms around mine, arranging the sticks in each one of my hands. “Now just hit the fucking drums.”
His breath is hot against my ear as he leans into me, shivers racing down my spine, the same time a surge of heat travels between my legs.Holy shit.“Do it Q.” He orders. “Bang the shit out of them. I promise, it will feel amazing.”
I hesitate for half a second. Long enough to feel stupid. Long enough to remember I don’t know what I’m doing. Then I lift the sticks and bring them down. The crack of wood on drum skin explodes through the room. It startles me. Then, it thrills me.
“Again.” His breath warm against my ear.
