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“Nice to meet you,” Monroe said as he offered his hand, which was adorned with silver rings and finger tats. He had longish black hair and a neck tattoo.

“Before you say something fucking dumb,” Holden interjected. “This is Lala.”

“Oh.” Monroe smiled. “Your friend’s sister. I’m glad you told me.”

“Watch your fucking mouth and keep your hands off her,” Holden warned.

Monroe looked unfazed. “You’re engaged, right?”

“I am.”

“Lucky guy.”

Holden shot daggers at Monroe but didn’t say anything.

As we drove the streets of New York toward the highway, it was a bumpy ride with lots of stop and go. My knee kept bumping into Holden’s, and his scent was all I could smell. It frustrated me that I felt so much sitting close to him. Aside from our dance at Colby’s wedding and the occasional fleeting and friendly hug, I couldn’t say I’d ever been pressed against Holden like this for any length of time. It’s one thing to control your thoughts, but how does one control their body’s reaction to someone they’re attracted to? I guess the answer is…you can’t. You just deal with it and pretend like it’s not happening.

We must have gotten to the venue in Danbury just in the nick of time because Holden apologized for having to rush off. The guys barely had five minutes to spare before they were on stage. The air was thick, saturated with the smell of alcohol and various colognes and perfumes. I’d just situated myself in a corner when the band, After Friday, started to play.

Nothing compared to seeing Holden in his element. It filled me with adrenaline—the speed at which he maneuvered those sticks, the intensity of his focus, the way he’d toss the sticks in the air occasionally and catch them. Monroe had a really smooth voice, too, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of Holden.

When the performance finished, several women went up to them. Their approach seemed very methodical. It gave me the impression that they’d been waiting in the wings, and perhaps they were regular groupies. One in particular, with long, straight brown hair, was hanging all over Holden before he’d even had a chance to exit the stage. I wondered if I’d have to sit next to her on the way home—or if I’d be riding home alone while Holden went back to her place.

Before I could ponder it much more, my phone buzzed.

My heart sank when I saw it was Warren calling, but I pressed the button to answer. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“What are you up to?” I said, holding my opposite ear closed to hear better.

“You sound like you’re in a bar.”

I hesitated. I couldn’t lie to him, as much as I didn’t want to admit who I was with. “Holden’s band had a gig. So I went to see the show at a club in Connecticut.”

He hesitated. “Ah. I see. Any good?”

“Yeah.” I breathed out. “It was really good, actually. Well, except that I’m by myself at the moment since I don’t know anyone here. Holden’s still with the band.”

“Lala! What are you drinking?” he suddenly yelled from behind me, making me jump.

I held my finger up, asking him to hold on. But instead of shutting up, he said, “A finger of whiskey? Is that what you want?”

“Who’s that?” Warren asked.

“That’s Holden. He just came over to get my drink order.”

“Well, make sure you know where your drinks are coming from, please. Don’t leave anything unattended. The last thing I need is for you to be roofied out there.”

I knew he’d be concerned, but jeez. “That’s sort of an odd thing to say… But of course, I’ll be vigilant.”

“Just…be careful, okay?”

I felt bad that my being here made him anxious. I couldn’t say I blamed him. I wouldn’t have been thrilled to find out he was at some bar with a bunch of female musicians. Actually, the thought of Warren in his glasses and cardigan in that scenario made me chuckle. He was such a good guy, but this definitely wasn’t his scene—any more than it was mine, actually.

“Okay.” He sighed. “Have fun.”

“Thanks. I’ll call you in the morning.”

“Alright. Goodnight.” He paused. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Beads of sweat formed on my forehead after I hung up. I looked around and found Holden beaming as he walked toward me, lifting two drinks.

He spoke into my ear. “I figured you didn’t really want a finger of whiskey, so I got you a vodka cranberry. I remember you ordering one at Colby’s wedding.”

The warm heat of his breath in my ear made me tingle. It was messed up how one small bit of contact could make my body feel like it was on fire.

“Very observant,” I said as I took the drink.

“I take it that was Warren on the phone? You looked a little flustered.”

“Yeah. I didn’t want him to think…” I hesitated.

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