‘White wine would be great. The drier the better.’
‘They don’t serve alcohol here.’
Was he serious? ‘The drinks menu runs to eight pages. What’s it filled with, every version of Coke ever invented?’
‘Actually, they make a green tea cola on the premises. Coke developed it for the Japanese market, but it never took off. I’ll order us both one.’
I grabbed his arm before he could turn to the barman. ‘You can’t expect me to sing sober? In front of all these people?’
I waved at the room. My plea was somewhat undermined by the fact that there were only three people in here. Two of them were on their phones and the third appeared to be either asleep or in a cola-induced sugar coma.
‘Oh come on, don’t tell me you’re chicken? Live a little.’
‘I live plenty. And I’m not scared.’
‘Prove it.’
I folded my arms. ‘I don’t need to do anything.’
He tipped towards me on the balls of his feet. Closer than he’d been in the car, close enough for me to get a lungful of his catnip aftershave. ‘It’s exactly what you need.’
Would he shut up about my needs?
Suddenly, his hand was warm in mine. ‘What are you doing?’ I asked.
He smiled and started walking and I had no choice but to follow. Fuck, he was a leading me to the stage. One of the blokes on his phone jumped to attention. He had an open laptop in front of him and I realised that he was theDJ. Three mics on leads were also arranged on the table.
Nick still hadn’t let go of my hand. He handed me a mic and then picked up one for himself.
‘I’m not going to sing,’ I protested.
‘No, I am,’ he said. ‘But you’re going to join in on the chorus.’
Before I could ask what the song was, the opening riffs of Def Leppard’s ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me’ were blasting through thePA.
The barman started nodding his head in time to the beat, but the punters didn’t look up from their phones.
Nick released my hand, but before I could make a run for it, he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me to his side.
His ribcage vibrated against mine as he sang and his voice was a low growl; a spot-on impression of Joe Elliott. The only thing missing was the mullet.
I watched the lyrics zip by on the screen in front of us. The words didn’t make sense and were eye-rollingly cheesy, but their meaning could not have been clearer. The whole song was about sex. And pressed against Nick’s taut body as he channelled his inner rock star was doing funny things to my lady parts.
Shit, we were at the chorus. This was my cue. ‘Pour some sugar on maaaaaaay.’
I swear Nick winced. Well, sod him, it was his fault my mouth was so close to his easily offended ear.
He started on the second verse with extra swagger, his voice warming up now. I was swaying from side to side in time with the music, my hips perfectly synchronised with his. We got to the final crescendo; my one-line chorus bouncing around Nick’s lament on how hot, sticky and sweet he was.
We punched the air at the same time for the final drum beat. And then it felt like the most natural thing in the world to hug.
His cheek was cool against mine, but his body was warm. I could feel waves of heat coming off him. Or maybe it was my own body heat pulsing between us.
I was smiling and breathless when I pulled back.
He grinned back at me. ‘How did that feel?’
I tried to find the right words. ‘Better than—’
