“I need this tonight so damn badly,” August muttered as he drank another gulp of beer.
“What’s going on?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.
“My folks are moving,” he said, leaning back against the bar. He took another swig. “They dropped the news on me a few days ago.”
I let out a low whistle. “You guys are close, I take it?”
August’s nose wrinkled. “Not like… in an incestuous way, but I spend a lot of time over at their house. Which is now being sold.”
The laugh exploded from me. “Didn’t assume the incest, but thanks for the clarification.” There was something odd about him that I appreciated, his responses both direct and roundabout in the same breath. His mind intrigued me as much as his body, and that was a rarity.
August placed his empty glass on the bar beside mine. “Let’s head in. I’m dying to see the openers.”
My heart thumped in double-time, and when he stepped past me, his shoulder brushed against mine again. Pure electricity.
I followed him out of the bar, and we made our way into the concert venue, where the darkened room was packed with bodies. The scent of sweat and ozone filtered through, a unique one I always associated with concerts. A large section of the front had filled in, tons of people all ready to wreak havoc in the mosh pit. As much as I wanted to join them, I wouldn’t bounce back like I would’ve ten years ago.
“Mind if we head up here?” August asked, pointing to the farther back section elevated with risers.
“The old guys’ section?” I teased.
“If that makes me old, I’ll embrace my ancient, weathered years,” August said. He peeled up his sleeve to showcase a film on his bicep over what looked like fresh ink. “If someone knocks into me while thisis healing, not only will it hurt like a bitch, but I don’t want a gash to wreck my new tattoo.”
“What is it?” I asked, casting a cursory glance. The figure was hard to tell, since there was some bleed beneath the second skin overtop it.
“A Charmander.”
My brows drew together. “You got a Pokemon on you?” My pulse quickened.
“Hey, no tattoo shaming on my watch,” he said. “I know some folks, even at my work, get snooty about choices, but I don’t judge anyone. It makes me happy, and that’s all that matters.”
“No, no,” I said, pausing beside one of the chairs. I peeled up my pant leg to show him my calf. “No shaming at all.”
August let out a surprised laugh. “Bulbasaur? Nice.”
I shrugged, even though the coincidence lit sparklers inside me. “I wanted to test the waters with getting inked, and I was a longtime Pokemon fan.”
“Here, move in,” he said. “We might as well take a spot here.”
I shuffled in closer and plunked into one of the seats, which felt a bit lamer than throwing myself into the pit with the rest of the crowd. We could always move around if needed. Yet, when August sat beside me, his arm brushed against mine, and he didn’t pull away. Energy rippled through my veins.
Never mind, this was plenty exciting.
“Is everyone ready for a show?” A guy strode onto the stage, and the spotlights zeroed in on him. The crowd erupted in shouts, and I soaked in the passion, the vibration in the air. “I know we’re not Dropkick, but hopefully we can tide you over.”
The lights brightened on the stage, revealing the setup for Three R’s, and the lead singer took his place at the microphone.
“We’re gonna kick things off Three R’s style. Ready for the revolution?”
A loud roar erupted through the place in response.
My nerves ignited—from the show, from the promise of this night…
And from the man beside me.
Chapter seven
August
