Page 45 of Scoring Lessons

“Of course,” I blurted, hitching my hip and planting a hand on it like I was perfectly at ease, even while my brain scrambled through the mess of thoughts. What an odd fucking day. At that point, I wondered if I was somehow in the Twilight Zone. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re looking a little flustered.” His tone was amused, almost mocking.

“Please. It’s just hot in here, that’s all.” I fanned my face with a weak laugh.

“Nope,” he said, his smile kicking up a notch. “Considering the heater’s off and it’s like fifty degrees outside.”

“I have a sweater on. You’re practically naked in those shorts and that tank top.” I narrowed my eyes, forcing myself to hold his gaze—even though every eager, reckless part of me wanted to let my eyes wander over every inch of exposed muscle he was showing off. “Besides, fifty degrees for us is still practically summer,” I added for safe measure then cleared my throat. I needed some water. Stat.

He leaned back and laced his arms behind his head, the loose fabric of his tank top gaping enough to tease more of that smooth, light skin. His biceps flexed with the stretch, veins pronounced, muscles carved to perfection. “I can play this game all day, Livvie girl,” he remarked casually. “I like getting you flustered. It makes your freckles pop.”

My nostrils flared. “You’re a real asshole, did you know that?”

He chuckled without a word, like he knew he’d won.

“Whatever,” I said as casually as I could muster. “I’m going to go get ready.”

“Bye, Livvie girl.”

I flipped him off without glancing back at him. But I knew he was looking. “Get fucked, Wesley.”

He hadn’t been lying when he said I was going to love it.

The speakeasy was, without doubt, the coolest place I’d ever been to.

It was rock-themed, with all kinds of paraphernalia like instruments signed by famous rock guitarists and framed pictures of classic rock bands that had played here.

Yellow lights pointed at the small, round stage, and the rest of the room had unique sofas of all different shapes, textures, and colors. Not one single thing in this place matched, but everything made perfect sense in its own unique way.

A gasp slipped out of me when my eyes landed on a signed Fleetwood Mac Rumours vinyl. My fingers itched to touch the little piece of history, but I couldn’t bring myself to. It was too impressive, and I was scared of ruining it.

I used to get made fun of in high school, and even by Jack sometimes, for how much I loved the ’60s blues-rock band. But I didn’t care. Their music helped me. When I was happy or sad, they were the perfect choice for any occasion.

Music was one of those things I’d always loved. Every situation I’d been in, I could pair the memory with a song.

A memorable birthday. My first kiss. My first heartbreak.

Music held more than a melody—it also held time.

“This is amazing,” I said in awe.

His eyes sparkled when they settled on me. The forest green of his irises had a hint of gold that gave him this soft edge I enjoyed a bit too much.

“I knew you’d like it.” His tone was confident, with a hint of pride.

My heart tightened the tiniest bit at the thought that Wesley remembered such a small detail about me.

I nodded, visibly impressed, as I continued to look around. “Is this what casually dating Wesley Hayes is like?” I pursed my lips to contain my smile and gave him a small nod. “Color me impressed.”

He shrugged sheepishly. It was ridiculously endearing how innocent his smile was when I knew he was anything but. “It was no big deal. You’re an easy girl to please.”

My heart expanded three sizes too big and painfully beat against my rib cage like it wanted to make a quick escape and get away from this man.

Truth was, I was an easy girl to please, and yet…with Jack, it had been much different. We gradually went from coworkers to a serious relationship. We never really went out. All the outings were work-related. The more serious the relationship became, the less we would be seen in public. As more time passed, the less effort he’d put in and…the rest was a painful history I didn’t want to think about.

I was having a hard time remembering why I’d lasted so long. Why I had endured so much. Why I suffered in silence most nights and developed the talent to cry myself to sleep in complete silence so he wouldn’t hear me.

I wondered then, when did I stop loving myself to prioritize someone else?