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“Are you drunk?” I ask her.
She glares at me, and she suddenly looks more like her usual self.
“Ah, that’s better,” I say, taunting her. “That’s the way your face usually looks—all contorted and pissy.”
She scoffs. “Are you always this charming to the people who watch you play?”
Aside from looking pissed off, she’s gorgeous. I try not to stare at the way her eyes pop against the color of her shirt.
Or how full her bottom lip is.
Or the way her top dips just enough to break me.
I try not to notice any of those things, but I fucking fail. I fail so hard and end up wondering what she’d do if I pressed her up against the wall and kissed her.
Right here. Right now.
She’d probably slap me—or pepper-spray me. She seems like the type of girl who’d have pepper spray. But in my mind, before she assaults me, she kisses me back.
Margot lowers her head, forcing my gaze back to hers. “Are you having a stroke, or is this what happens when you’re out in public?”
“I’m fine.” I probably answer too quickly, but right now, I kind of wish I could bang my head against the wall. I don’t want to think about her that way. “I appreciate that you’re worried, though,” I say, trying to recover. “It shows how much you secretly care.”
She quirks the side of her mouth into a sort of half-frown. “Damn. So, it’s not a stroke?”
“Sorry to disappoint you, Red.” Stepping around her, I add, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to take a piss.”
She scoffs, running her hand through her hair. “Such a way with words. I guess it’s a good thing you don’t write the songs.”
She starts to walk away from me, and I open the bathroom door. Before going inside, I watch her. Her hair almost reaches her lower back, drawing my attention to the way her ass looks in her jeans.
Fucking hell.
Storming into the bathroom and slamming the door behind me, I stand there, trying to get my head on straight.
I can’t believe I thought about kissing her.
I can’t believe how much I liked the thought of kissing her.
Turning on the faucet in the dimly lit bathroom, I run my hands under the cold water before splashing some on my face. Staring down my reflection, I contemplate slapping some sense into me but decide against it when a guy goes to leave, walking behind me. Straightening up, I do what I came here to do and then head out into the crowd to find Rae and Matt. It doesn’t take me long to spot them because it doesn’t take me long to spot her. I try to blame it on her red hair and not the fact that I just thought about pressing her up against the wall and seeing what that smart mouth tastes like. Probably a little like whatever she drank tonight and a lot like the insults she loves to throw my way. I’ve never kissed anyone with such a sharp tongue. I wonder if she’d tear me a new one just for touching her, or if her tongue would soften against mine, her pretty mouth opening more for me.
Damn it. I need to stop thinking like this.
“There he is!” Matt practically cheers when I walk over to the three of them. He claps his hand on my shoulder, giving it a shake. “You were great up there,” he says with a grin. “You’re in a fucking band!”
I can’t help the smile his excitement pulls from me. I’ve dreamed of this moment for so long, and now to have him at one of my shows—even if it’s a small one—feels unreal.
Rae beams at me. “You guys sound so good! It’s crazy to think I know someone in a band,” she says with a laugh. “I’m going to buy the next album, and I want you to sign it.”
“Deal,” is all I can think to say. I’m not used to anyone giving my music this much attention, and as much as I love it, it feels fucking weird.
“Why did the guy you replaced leave?” Rae asks.
I shrug. “His wife had a baby or something a couple of months back. I think it just got to be too much for him.” That’s one of the downfalls of being in a band where everyone is almost ten years older than you. I have no ties to anything. I could tour the country and never look back, but Dave and Brady have girlfriends they’ve been with for years. All I can do is hope they put the band first.
I glance at Margot. She’s been unusually quiet this entire conversation, and as soon as our eyes meet, she shifts to watching the dwindling crowd. Just as my eyebrows pull together, Matt nudges me and nods toward the stage. “Looks like they’re getting ready to pack up.”
“That’s my cue. You guys will hang around?” Rae and Matt nod, but Margot just rocks back on her heels like she’d rather be anywhere else.
