Just when I thought it couldn’t get any more awkward, he veered around the sofas and sat down across from me.
My eyes grew wide.
“Hey Ivy,” Jamie said in his velvety voice, and memories of the stolen kiss flooded my vision. It wasn’t fair that a guy like him had a voice like that. He dragged his hands up and down his jean-clad thighs. “I, uh— Well, I—”
Was he…nervous? I recognized the physical signals given that I displayed them myself frequently. His knees were bouncing and he was looking at the ground. This seemed at odds with the guy who’d accosted me in the bathroom.
“Look, I wanted to—”
“Hey! Sorry about the wait,” Oliver’s voice sounded from nearby, and I bolted from the sofa, eager to extract myself from the uncomfortable interaction with Jamie.
Oliver halted his approach when he saw his bandmate sitting there. His brows pulled together. “Everything okay?” The question wasn’t directed at me.
Jamie cleared his throat. “We have to be on stage in five. I need—”
“I’ll be right there, just going to show Ivy up to one of the balconies,” Oliver cut him off and shot me a tense smile.
Jamie looked back and forth between Oliver and I, narrowing his eyes. He rose from the sofa, walked toward Oliver, and stopped when he reached his side. For a few seconds, he spoke quietly into Oliver’s ear, while the guitarist’s expression stayed carefully neutral.
“What was that all about?” I asked, glaring at the back of the lead singer’s head as he moved away. I felt like I’d missed some hidden subtext in that exchange.
Oliver let out a long sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “He said he’s way too sober to play a good set tonight. Last night, after I dragged him out of the club, I told him he needs to lay off the drugs, or I’ll tell the record label to cancel this goddamn tour. He’s not happy about it.”
I frowned. “You’d really do that? Cancel the tour to try to help him?” Jamie was lucky to have a friend like Oliver, and he probably didn’t even know it.
“Sure, I would,” he said, looking over my shoulder. “But hey, we need to get going. I only have a few minutes.”
We weaved past the equipment still scattered in the lobby and went up a staircase to the large second-floor balcony. From here, I got my first real view of the venue, and my jaw dropped. “Wow. This place is stunning.”
Spinning around, I took in the ornate roof, the carved arches of the small balconies lining the perimeter of the space, and the Buddhas sitting atop two altars bordering the stage. I felt like I was in a mystical temple rather than a concert hall. Everything was radiant and embellished with unexpected details.
“This upstairs area will be full today since it’s a sold-out show, but I got the manager to let you use one of those.” Oliver pointed to one of the tiny balconies off to the side. “They usually keep them closed. You’ll have the best view all to yourself.”
I couldn’t keep the smile off my face even if someone put a gun to my head and told me to try.
Oliver led me down a dark, narrow hallway that snaked around the side of the venue and stopped in front of a blue door. “Here’s your key,” he said, handing it to me. “Make sure to give it back at the reception after the show.”
“I will,” I said, giving him a brilliant smile.
He smirked and wrapped his hands around my waist. “Want to give me something to think about when we play tonight?” he whispered into my hair.
My pulse quickened. “Sure.” I turned my face up, and he didn’t hesitate to claim my lips.
God, I loved kissing him. I pulled him closer and closer until every inch of us was touching.
“Oh!” I jerked away, stunned at feeling his rock-hard erection against my thigh. Just kissing me was enough to do that to him? I supposed it was a good thing, but suddenly, I was unsure of myself. I’d never felt a man’s desire for me in such a physical way, and I didn’t know what I was supposed to do in this situation.
While I squirmed, Oliver’s expression darkened. “What was that?”
“I’m sorry,” I rushed to apologize, feeling like a fool. “I don’t know why I reacted that way.”
“No, it’s my bad.” He sighed. “I forgot how young you are.”
Fear gripped my gut. In that moment, I wished he had reacted with anger instead of this cool dismissal. “No, it’s not that…”
“It’s fine, Ivy. I need to go now anyway,” he said, adjusting his pants and readying to leave.
I gripped his wrist, panicked. “Oliver, I’m sorry. I just— You’re not mad, are you?”
