I reach for my drink, sip it, and hold it like the crutch it is as she plays several more songs, mostly covers.
She rarely looks up.
But then she does.
Our eyes lock. I straighten as if summoned to fight or go to her but… A stolen moment passes. It lasts a second. It doesn't feel like one. And it’s over too fast.
I lean my arm on the table.
The charge in the air lessens when her set ends. As she squats to pack her guitar into its case, I glimpse her white knickers, and I want to stand up and block her from the room.
"White. Virginal." Jax laughs, knocking me with his elbow while watching her intently.
Fuck off, Jax.
I turn to Erik, who’s staring at the stage with the same glazed expression I probably have. “Your sister?” I ask, nodding towards the blonde.
He glances at me. "Yeah.” Then wanders in her direction. "I'll go collect her."
I watch him move through the crowd toward her—not looking around, not stopping for the girls in front of him who gaze up and say his name, not distracted by a single thing inthe room. A straight, certain line to her. Like there is no other direction available to him in this moment.
I frown at him.
Pemberton's hand finds my shoulder again. She kisses my neck. "Hey, my green-eyed boy. Want to go make out somewhere?" She's acting cute, and that usually speaks directly to my groin. Still, I surprise myself when I shake my head and say, "Nah, Pem. I kinda wanna meet Erik's sister."
The actual fuck?
I just said that to my girlfriend?
She scoffs loudly, making sure everyone nearby hears. "I met her already.” She checks her nails. “She’s dull. Trust me. No personality at all."
My forehead tightens. “Be nice. She's Erik's sister."
Her eyes widen, and I can tell I've struck a nerve. Knowing Pemberton like I do, I'd wager she's jealous. She talks through her teeth. "Don't use that tone with me. What? Over a girl you don't even know?"
Yep, jealous.
I stare at her beautiful face—the same one that can shift from soft to hard in the space of a single conversation. The same one that knows exactly how to morph into the perfect expression to get whatever she wants from men.
I tap her nose, trying to keep it light. "Pemberton Lewis, you need to learn to play nicely with other girls."
She smirks. "Konnor Slater"—she lifts a brow—"if you don't come outside right now and come in my mouth, I'm going to find someone who will."
Well, fuck.
CHAPTER THREE
konnor
Pemberton’s a lightweight; a few drinks in and she can hardly keep her feet.
By the time we make it back to her dorm, she is ready to crash. I can tell. So, I won’t get my cock sucked, but that’s actually okay, because I’m not feeling it.
Which is… weird.
I fill her hot water bottle while she changes, and when I get back to the room she’s already half-asleep, bundled under her comforter. I set down a glass of water and two painkillers for the morning, then pause at the door. Her face looks different in sleep—softer, without all her usual walls up, without the performances. Just Pem, unguarded and peaceful.
I sigh.
