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“I’d be doing it either way, but now I don’t have to take it all home with me — win-win.” The way he’s looking at me right now sends and electric shock right through my body. He looks like he wants to pull my body against him and never let go. “What?” I ask, barely able to breathe.
“I kind of like you referring to my house as home.”
Chapter 18
The night I’ve been waiting for months to arrive is finally here — I get to see Taylor Swift in concert. I don’t care that I’ll be a 35-year-old among a bunch of teenagers. It will be so worth it to see her in her element.
I don’t know whether I should consider this concert a date with Joey, so I find myself debating how I should dress for the show. I opt for a silver scoop-neck sequin top with black skinny jeans and knee-high boots. My hair is down in waves that fall over my shoulders.
When I make my way to the living room, I swear Joey is on the verge of a stroke after seeing me.
“Holy fuck, Kelsey…” He rubs his hand over his jaw. “You look incredible.”
My eyes travel up and down his body. He’s wearing a black button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, paired with blue jeans and boots. His hair is parted to the side and fuck me, I just want to run my hands through it.
“You look pretty good yourself.” I bite my lip nervously. “Thank you again for agreeing to come with me tonight.”
Earlier in the week, I offered to pay for dinner before the concert, but Joey wouldn’t hear of it. He said because I paid for the tickets, he would pay for dinner. Hence why I’m confused as to whether this is actually a date.
“Ready to go?” He asks, offering me his arm.
I loop my arm through his. “Hell, yeah.” Okay, I’m definitely considering this a date.
When we walk into the arena, I immediately feel old as fuck. I’m pretty sure Joey and I are the oldest people here. Hopefully there will be more people our age in our section because the prices of these seats were outrageous. No teenager could afford them, unless they had rich parents buying the tickets.
“So, I brought you something,” I say in his ear so he can hear me over the chatter.
“Oh, yeah? Dare I ask?” He motions me to sit down as we approach our seats.
I reach into my purse and pull out a pair of ear plugs, dangling them in front of his face. “I figure this will stop the bleeding.” I chuckle at my lame joke.
He laughs along with me and shakes his head. “I appreciate the thought, Kels, but I don’t think I’ll need them. I’m sure the music isn’t going to be that bad.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of you needing them to drown out the inevitable screaming that will be coming from the audience.”
“You’d be amazed what I can tune out.” He nudges my shoulder. “But I’ll let you know if I want them later on.” His gaze locks on me, and I wish I knew what he was thinking. “You really look amazing tonight. I mean — you look beautiful all the time, but… just… wow.”
Watching him stumble over his words is sexy in a way I didn’t know was possible. It’s as if he’s mirroring my nervousness. “Thank you,” I pause, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “So, can I ask you a question?”
“Anything… what’s up?”
I’ve been toying with whether or not to bring this up, and how to do it if I did. I need to know if this was a slip of the tongue that he didn’t mean to say, or if he said it out of some repressed affection.
“The other day, you called me ‘Angel,’ and I’ve noticed that you seem to stop yourself anytime you think you might say it again.”
He grimaces as if he’s embarrassed that I mentioned it. “I didn’t know if I made you uncomfortable by calling you that, so I’ve been trying to refrain from doing it again.” Even over the noise of the crowd, I can hear the vulnerability in his voice.
God, his respect of my breakup is both heartwarming and frustrating all at the same time. That’s not to say that I wanted to pounce on him an hour after I broke up with Grant. But I’ve wanted him for so long that if he’d made a move, I probably wouldn’t have said no.
“I wasn’t uncomfortable with it at all — it just shocked me more than anything. You’ve never really had a nickname for me all these years. You’ve always called me Kelsey or Kels — unless that’s a nickname you had for me that you never told me about.” I flash him a curious look.
I study his face for any tell that I’m right about that last bit, but his poker face is pro-level. “So, are you saying you’re okay with me calling you that? It’s not weird?”
If he knew what that nickname does to my body, he wouldn’t question whether it was weird or not. “You can call me pretty much whatever you want — except Kelsey Bear. Grant called me that.” I shudder at the thought of that fuckwad.
“I promise I’ll never call you Kelsey Bear. One — it’s lame, and two — it doesn’t suit you at all. But Angel absolutely does.” His smile stretches wide across his face and my insides melt like lava.
If there was ever an opening to kiss him, this is it — instead, I freeze, terrified to make the first move. I’m 35 — I should not be this fucking awkward. Before I can even contemplate what to say, the lights turn out, indicating the start of the show.
