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I lean over and see Lucas jump when I raise my voice to make sure he hears me. I laugh through my question. “When did it get so crowded?”
“When we were locked in our bubble, baby,” he whispers warmly. He pulls me up to stand on the edge of the couch so I have a clear view of the stage past the people lining up.
“I wonder if they’re local,” I yell down at him and he shrugs.
Seconds later, I hear the familiar opening guitar riff of “Mr. Jones” and the club goes apeshit just as the spotlights hit.
“Oh my God, it’s the Counting Crows!” I scream like the sixty-year-old southerner I am. I glance down at Lucas whose laugh I can’t hear but can clearly see.
“Did you know this?” He lifts his finger to his temple. The man with a plan.
“Of course, you did,” I say, rolling my eyes giving him my best smile. “God, I love—”
Of all the times he could have missed my words, he didn’t. Even surrounded by a screaming hundred, he caught every syllable. I move in for quick recovery. “This is awesome, thank you,” I say, leaning down to kiss him and grabbing my beer from his hand. He lets me off the hook and we jam out as they play a list of classics. Whisked off the couch after a few songs, I’m on the floor with the rest of the mob and Lucas stands behind me in his protective hold. It’s unnecessary, but I bask in it anyway.
When we’re drenched in sweat and heavily buzzed, a man takes the piano, and Adam Duritz grabs the mic from the stand. “Thank you, thank you. We’re going to slow it down a little.” Lucas tightens his hold when the man at the piano plays the opening chords of “Colorblind.” Instantly I have a lump in my throat.
Lucas bends in just as I lean back to whisper, “This is my favorite.”
“Mine too,” he says softly as we sway, half drunk and dizzy with affection. The song, the words, hit me and send me reeling as he pulls me tighter to him, seemingly just as affected. I’m madly in love with this man and have been for months, and I’m losing the battle in holding it in any longer. He makes me insanely happy, he makes life exciting, his presence is all-consuming, his kiss a whirlwind and he says he’s mine. I was wrong to assume we didn’t fit, but it was him who made me see how perfectly we do.
Overcome with what I feel, tears surface and slide down my cheeks. It didn’t sneak up on me, I’ve known for a while how I felt, but the fear of having something so perfect does. This, this feeling is what I’ve been holding out for, it’s mine, and he gave it to me, we built it together. It’s one of the best and most terrifying moments of my life. Cursing my hormones, I’m busted when one of his fingers lifts a tear from my cheek, and he turns me to face him. Unable to hold it any longer, the tears multiply rapidly but his concerned eyes warm when he sees the smile I’m wearing beneath.
“I shouldn’t do shots without eating dinner first,” I proclaim with a laugh. Patient eyes gaze down at me as he waits for me to speak truthfully because he knows me, he knows I will.
“Okay, Hollywood,” I admit tearfully, “you got the girl. Now what?”
“Now everything,” he promises before his lips crush mine.
“One of the things about acting is it allows you to live other people’s lives without having to pay the price.”—Robert De Niro
Lucas
TWO MONTHS AGO
INT: Nikki sits in a dim room on a metal counter gripping his calf, teeth clenching as he sorts through surgical tools.
Alejandro
Wait for the doctor. He should be here soon.
Nikki
I don’t wait. He’s late.
Alejandro
It’s too deep. You can’t get that bullet out on your own.
Nikki
Give me some of that Chiba.
Alejandro leans in with a spoonful, and Nikki sniffs it back with vigor
Nikki grips the scalpel
Nikki
