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He turned back to me and winked. “IguessI’ll have to settle for sparkling conversation with you.”
I pushed his arm. God, it was so firm and muscular. I hadn’t known they made arms like this in real life. “Sarcasm aside, I’m glad I have a second chance to show you I’m not the weird girl in the elevator.”
His brow shot up. “Oh? When will you be showing me that?”
Laughing, I started to push his arm again, but he caught my hand, examining my wrist. “You’re wearing the bracelet.”
“I didn’t want to be caught in the dark without it.”
His grip tightened a fraction before it released, but his eyes continued to hold mine until Nina, Laura, and Tino danced out of the house bearing drinks and lollipops.
“Tali, you spectacular woman, Never Again is about to take the stage. Come dance a jig with me.” Tino held out his hand, lollipop sticking out the side of his mouth.
When I placed my hand in his, he reeled me into his body and grinned down at Ben over my shoulder. “Sorry to steal the girl, but you know they can’t resist me.”
I glanced back at Ben, giving him a little wave before I was hauled toward the stage. Some pop-rock song blasted through the speakers, and Tino rocked us to the upbeat rhythm. My beer sloshed over my hand as we twirled and jumped around, but I didn’t care. I was dancing with a hot guy who had no interest in getting with me, and I was minutes away from seeing a new, supposedly amazing band.
“You like Benny?” Tino asked against my ear.
“He’s cute, but I’m not doing the guy thing right now.”
He nodded like he approved of my answer. “Kid is nice as hell, but a little screwed up. You’re better off dancing with me.”
I didn’t have a chance to ask what he meant before the music coming from the speakers cut off, replaced by the strum of an electric guitar and the steady beat of sticks on skins. The spotlight hadn’t been turned back on, so all I could make out was the outline of a tall man holding a guitar.
The distinctive notes of “Scar Tissue” by the Red Hot Chili Peppers rang out, and I went still. Chills ran through me at the first hum of his low, raspy voice. The lights flicked on, and I lost my breath.
Gripping the microphone with both hands was Hazel Eyes. In tight jeans, chain hanging from his belt loops, and a plain white tee that barely scraped his waistband, he was a rock star fantasy. The black smudged on his eyelids made his eyes stand out even more than they had in the elevator. Chipped black polish on his nails had me practically swooning.
It was his voice that really did me in, though. It settled over me like a second skin. The weight of it was heavy, but it didn’t weigh me down. It made me float in a dreamlike trance. I swayed, mesmerized by the way he pulled borrowed lyrics into his mouth and spilled them out as completely his own.
Tino said something, but I didn’t hear him. He wrapped his arm around my waist, but I barely felt it. It was just me and Hazel Eyes. His voice, his rocking hips, his consuming intensity and stage presence.
I’d heard the phrase “born to be a star” before but had never really witnessed it—not until this very moment. This man didn’t belong at a drunken college party. His voice should have been blasting to the heavens.
I ripped my eyes from the stage to check if Tino was feeling what I was. His answering smirk said he was more amused by my reaction than anything.
“Girl, no.”
“He’s amazing.”
“He is. The boy is also trouble and unavailable. Don’t get any ideas,” he warned.
“I’m not, he’s just…” I took a sip of my beer. “Wow.”
