AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I fist the front of his shirt. "You're coming, too," I say, dragging him away from Fitz and Muir who are busily whispering to each other.
"What? You wanna duet with me?"
"That's not the first thing that comes to mind of the things I want to do with you."
Wilby tickles my side, forcing me to let him go, then worms his way in, getting nice and close. "You're thinking about my cock again, aren't you?"
I laugh. "I am not."
I partly was.
"But now that you mention it, if you manage to keep up with me, your cock may be in for a very hot, very tight treat later."
Wilby's eyes bulge. "I am in. I am so fucking in. Tell me what to sing, where to stand, how to breathe. Whatever you want, baby. I'll do it."
His words spill out so fast it takes us both a minute to catch the endearment.
I quirk a brow. "Baby?"
"Yeah. Shit. Sorry. Is that okay?"
"It's okay." I trace my finger along his jawline. "For now."
He frowns. "What does that mean?"
"It means you're Wilby Fucking Linfox. You can do better thanbabyfor the guy you're falling madly in love with. Am I right?"
He catches hold of my wrist and brings it up to his mouth, peppering it with a few light kisses. The tenderness of the move surprises me.
"You're right," he says, lifting his gaze to meet mine. "Icando better thanbaby, and… Iamfalling in love with you, Col."
The sincerity in his eyes, in his words, in his voice feels like a warm blanket wrapping around me on a cold winter's night. I search my heart for what I want to convey back to him. It doesn't take long to figure out what that is.
"I'm falling in love with you, too, Wilby."
He grins, but before he can say anything, Mrs. Mangle from the pie shop shoves a microphone between us. "I couldn't give a flying toss which one of you blokes gets up there, but we have a fucking drought to break, so one of youse better get up there quick smart, otherwise my oven might mysteriously break."
Wilby's eyes haven't left mine, just like mine haven't left his. It's like we're under a spell that not even Mrs. Mangle's rambling can break. Without looking away from me, he takes the mic from her. "We're on it," he says.
I reach over and place my hand over his. "We're on it."
We approach the stage, hand in hand. "You wanna choose a song?" he asks.
"Sure." I swipe through the options on the screen, looking for something that works with two people and that we both know.
"How about this one? Do you know it?"
"Know it?" He smiles widely. "I fucking love it. It's a classic."
It sure is. "Awesome."
My heart flutters with…happiness? I should be freaking the fuck out right now. I'm about to make a monumental fool of myself and destroy a Motown-inspired classic. But I've got Wilby's warm hand in mine. He knows the song. And he's falling in love with me. That's all I need.
We get on stage—me like a normal person, Wilby like an MMA fighter, waving his arms to elicit more applause from the audience—and launch into the song. I can safely say I don't think Scuttlebuttians have ever experienced, or will ever experience again, a more chaotic, off-tune performance of Diana Ross's "Chain Reaction" than what we deliver.
We both know the words. That's about the best thing I can say about our performance. Between the two of us, we don't strike the right note even once, but you know what? I don't care. By the time the first chorus rolls around, I forget that I'm standing on stage in a pub in outback Australia. I'm simply living in this moment with Wilby.
He grabs my hand, and we start dancing and shimmying around the stage together. I pray no one's recording it, but fuck it…even if they are, we're both laughing and happy and carefree. Let them record this.
