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At my words, Jonathan turned around, eyes trying to convey a hidden meaning. “Quite the hot topic tonight.”
When Jonathan handed the coffee to the guy ahead of me, I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “What’s that mean?”
“Means that Untapped Potential has been arguing in the back about that since they got here. One says they should charge entry, the other says no.”
I felt my eyebrows shoot up, apprehension sneaking in. “Who’s arguing about it?”Please don’t say Harry. Nothing was more unattractive than someone arguing over money. I’d seen enough of it to last a lifetime.
Jonathan opened his mouth to answer when the kitchen door swung open, revealing the band in their full glory.
“Why are you two so stubborn?” Natasha demanded in her low voice, disdain dripping from her words. She’d left her dark hair loose today, her tight curls loose and beautiful. She stopped before she came out from behind the counter, not moving another inch. “Weshouldcharge admission—we’re the most popular band in Fenton County!”
Harry looked over his shoulder and glared at her, completely unaware I sat only a few feet from him. “Tash, not out here.”
Aw, cute. He had a nickname for her. I hated it.
“We didn’t finish our conversation!”
His frown deepened. “I already told you. Mr. Castello is kind enough to let us perform—”
“We’re boostinghisbusiness,” she said while gesturing at Vincent. “His dad lets us perform here, yeah, but we should be allowed to charge admission.”
Vincent’s eyes narrowed in response to her words, and if I’d been Natasha, I would’ve flinched. “My dad pays the band each gig. You know that.”
Natasha scoffed, folding her arms over her near-sheer top. “Yeah, twenty-five bucks a gig. Which comes out tobarely any cash at allwhen you divide it between us.”
Harry lowered his voice, and if anyone had been farther away than me, they wouldn’t have heard. “We’re not in this for the money, Tash. You knew when you signed up that we weren’t here for the money. If you are, you should probably find another band.”
Inexplicably, Vincent rolled his eyes, his expression snapping from frustrated to annoyed in an instant, like a flip of a switch. He even walked away before Natasha had a chance to respond.
Jonathan stepped in front of my vision as he filled my usual drink order, and I caught his eye for a quick instant. Through that look alone, I knew exactly what he wanted to say.Don’t eavesdrop.
As if I could stop.
Natasha stepped forward, completely into Harry’s bubble of personal space. She reached out and trailed her red-painted fingernails along Harry’s arm delicately, almost like a lover. They looked like a couple. A cute couple. Their complexions complemented each other well, his light to her dark. And she was the perfect height for him too.
Jealousy dug into my skin as I watched them, especially as Natasha dropped her voice. “We should look for other places to play, broaden our horizons. You want out of this town as much as I do—it won’t happen if we’re playing for free.”
Harry didn’t push her away. If anything, his expressionsoftened. “I just—I don’t think we’re there yet, Tash.”
Natasha hooked her fingers in Harry’s belt loops. “You’re afraid of branching out.”
“I’m not,” he said simply, glibly, not giving it too much thought.
With that, he drew away from her, turning toward the stage. He hadn’t noticed me, hadn’t even glanced my way. But as he moved into the crowd, they clapped and cheered, excited for the show to begin.
“Sorry for the delay,” Harry called to the audience, turning on the charismatic charm. “So, in case you didn’t know, we’re Untapped Potential. We promised a new song tonight, yeah? Should we open with it?”
In response, the crowd cheered loud. Loud enough to make my eardrums vibrate.
“All right. This is a new song we’re calling ‘Dance Floor.’”
Vincent started the song with a rapid beat of hitting the snare drum, hi-hat, and cymbals, the sounds mixing for a clean intro. After his second run-through of the beat, Natasha joined in on her guitar, the strum a perfect zing like all the songs they played with a practiced precision.
As much as I wanted to go sit with Addy, all the wind had been sucked out of my sails. Natasha’s hands on him. In his belt loops. He hadn’t even looked my way, didn’t notice me. Like a fly on the wall.
It made last Saturday feel so much less significant.
Jonathan patted me on the shoulder, as if picking up on my downward spiral. Jonathan might know if Harry and Natasha were dating. Addy might’ve known if Harry and Natasha were dating. I could’ve asked.
