1
SOPHIE
Music thrums through my veins, syncing with the steady beat of the drums on stage. Hypnotized, I watch from the shadows. Sal, my best friend, dragged me here tonight, practically begged me to come, but she abandoned me over an hour ago, growing tired of hiding by the bar. I can spot her through the crowd of bodies, swaying to the music, eyes locked on Jace like he’s the best thing she’s ever seen.
Jace, her step-brother, commands the small yet brightly lit stage. His presence fills the space, crowding out his band-mates as he strums his electric guitar. The band flies through each song with reckless energy. It feels wild and untamed. Their passion and talent is undeniable, but their precision could use some work. Sal’s constantly frustrated with them and their lack of motivation to shoot for the stars. She thinks he could really be someone, and as I sit here, I begin to believe it too. He’s a rock god in the making.
The venue is twenty-one and up, but Jace pulled some strings, guaranteeing our admission. He’d wanted Sal to see him perform. He’d do anything for her, I’m convinced. The airinside is thick with the scent of beer and sweat, pressing in on me from all sides, suffocating me. It clings to my skin like a humid summer day in Georgia. The cracked red vinyl of the barstool I’m perched on pinches my thighs, my short skirt providing little protection. Shifting in my seat, I sip on my coke and listen to the music serenading me as I wait for the night to be over.
Near the stage, clusters of college-aged kids move to the music, their faces lit up by the flashing stage lights. While the bar hums with energy, the tucked-away corner I occupy provides me a safe-haven. I watch as a man moves in on Sal, his greedy hands grabbing at her curves. She laughs but quickly swats him away, uninterested in his advances. She tends to draw attention wherever she goes, but she couldn’t care less for it.
The hair on the back of my neck prickles, sensing someone approaching from behind. I steel my spine, resisting the urge to turn and look. Wouldn’t want to invite conversation.
“Jack and coke, please.” The deep voice behind me is rough and gravelly. Attractive, I must admit. The bartender gets to work in front of me, moving with practiced ease, ice clinking as it drops into the short glass.
“Enjoying the show?”
It takes me a moment to realize he’s speaking tome.
Internally, I cringe. I’m friendly, sometimes overly so, but I’ve never been great at small talk—strangers put me on edge. I tend to spiral, second-guessing every word that comes out of my mouth, but I put on a brave face and turn in his direction, anyway.
Hot. Damn.
Hello, Mr. Gorgeous. His eyes crinkle just a bit as he smiles at me, his teeth white and straight, and the dark stubble shadowing his sharp jaw is the perfect contrast. Messy, dark curls tumble over his forehead, threatening to cover his eyes, which look likepools of midnight in the dark bar. His black tee and jeans are effortlessly cool, just fitted enough to show off his well-toned frame without looking like he’s trying too hard.
“Hi.” I squeak out.Be cool.“Yeah, it’s great.”That’s the best I could come up with?
He chuckles, the sound deep in his throat. “Well, I was about to head out, but you looked bored over here hiding in the shadows… figured maybe you could use some company. Feel free to tell me to fuck off, though.” A dimple appears in his cheek as he flashes me with a disarming smile.
“No, no… that’s okay. Feel free to join me.” I may be awkward… but I’d also feel bad turning him away. He seems harmless enough, for now anyway.
He settles onto the stool next to me, his knee almost touching mine in the narrow space. “So, what brings you here tonight?”
I nod towards the stage. “The guitarist is my best friend’s brother. She dragged me here to see the show.”
He hums in understanding. “My buddy owns this place, so I stopped by to see him. Not really my scene though, if I’m being honest.”
“Mine either,” I say with a small smile. I try not to stare at his lips, but when his tongue flicks out, catching the bottom one, my brain short-circuits.
“What’s your favorite band?” He asks.
It’s ridiculous, but my stomach flips at his question. What if he judges my taste in music?
I woman up though, and answer honestly. “Right now? Probably Sleep Token. But really, it depends on my mood.”
He nods, contemplating my words. “I get that. My playlists are all over the place. Though, I’m sorry to say… I’ve never listened to Sleep Token.”
I gasp, fake outrage fixed on my face. “You, sir, are missing out!”
The laugh that bursts from his chest warms my heart, genuine and loud. It makes him all the more attractive. “I’ll have to fix that then. I can tell you have great taste.” He winks, and my heart stutters in my chest.
He motions for the bartender. “What are you drinking? I’ll order you another.”
“Oh… just a coke for me. I’m driving tonight.” It’s not a lie, but I conveniently leave out the fact that I’m not legal drinking age yet. He’s clearly older than I am and I don’t want to spook him. Surprisingly, I’m enjoying his company.
He doesn’t make a big deal of it and appreciation floods through me. “You got it. Two cokes, please.”
Pulling a slim, black leather wallet from the back pocket of his fitted jeans, he pays for both. A gentleman. When his drink arrives, he gulps it down, but his eyes stay on mine. How is something so simple, so attractive? His attention heats me from the inside out.
