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I press closer until my face is buried in the thick strands of her hair. “You ready to do this?”
Her muscles tense before she jerks her head into a reluctant nod. “As I’ll ever be.”
My grip tightens around her waist as she rises to her feet. It lingers for a second or two before falling away. I’ve spent years wanting to lay my hands on her. Now that I can, I’m loath to set her free.
Which is exactly why I straighten to my full height and snag her fingers, towing her through the thick press of bodies to the stage. From the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Maverick. A frown tugs at his lips as he follows the path we cut. I can practically feel the way his narrowed gaze beats into my back as questions churn through his head.
Juliette shoots me an anxious look as she climbs onto the stage. I give her a nod of encouragement before flipping through the list of songs. One in particular jumps out and I queue it up. She wraps her hand around a microphone and pulls it closer. Guilt pricks at me when I notice the way her hand trembles and her face pales as she silently surveys the drunken crowd. She looks moments away from hurling all over the place.
A few of the guys from the team whistle and clap.
“Serenade us, McAdams!” one loudmouth yells.
I shake my head and give whoever keeps catcalling me the finger.
When the first notes of Evanescence’s ‘Bring Me to Life’ plays, her gaze flickers to mine in surprise. It used to be one of her favorites. She’d listen to it on repeat until I could recite the lyrics word for word. And I didn’t even like the damn song.
She squeezes her eyes tightly closed for a second or two before bringing the microphone to her lips. Her voice is soft and thready as her gaze bounces from the lyrics on the screen to the crowd. The rowdy bunch falls silent as they gradually become entranced by her performance. Even if she sucked major ass, guys would still stop and pay attention. Juliette has no idea how strikingly beautiful she is. Maybe she’s able to move through her everyday life by keeping her head down and hiding out in the library with her nose buried in a book, but up here on stage?
That’s no longer possible. Her presence commands their attention. I can see by the surprised expressions that transform their faces that it’s like they’re seeing her for the first time. When a few of my teammates whistle, her confidence grows and her voice becomes stronger.
And then I come in.
Her gaze slices to mine as a smile curves her lips, making her look even prettier than before, because contrary to what she expected, she’s actually enjoying herself. Our gazes stay locked as we belt out the lyrics. The instruments hit hard as our voices rise above it, harmonizing together. There’s a back and forth to the song as I continually jump in.
By the end, Juliette’s vocals soar over the audience, filling the bar. I’m so intent on watching her get lost in the music that I almost miss a lyric. That’s when I remember she took four years of choir in high school and knows how to project her voice while hitting all the notes on key.
Is she as good as the other girl? The one who’s probably a music major?
Nah. But she’s damn close. Definitely second best of the evening, and that’s saying something.
By the time the last note reverberates and fades, everyone has jumped to their feet. The applause that follows is thunderous. Juliette looks a little shellshocked as she beams, taking a little bow before jumping off the stage. I follow quickly behind her. My hand settles at the small of her back as I guide her to the table. At this point, I’ll take any excuse to touch her.
I drop down onto my chair as she settles next to me in an unoccupied one. She picks up her beer and drains the rest before slamming the bottle on the table. There’s a brightness to her eyes that wasn’t there before as she vibrates with the adrenalin of her performance. A few guys congratulate her and raise their arms for fist bumps.
“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I say, picking up my own drink.
A sheepish smile simmers around her lips. “Actually, it was kind of fun.”
I nod toward the stage. “You really killed it up there. I forgot you could actually sing.”
She shrugs off the compliment as if it makes her uncomfortable. “The song was perfect. As soon as the intro started, the words flooded back to me, and I got a little lost in the music.” There’s a moment of silence. “I used to love that song.”
“Yeah, I remember.”
She blinks, her gaze refocusing on me as her dark brows slide together. “You do?”
Now it’s my turn to shrug, playing down the memory. “You’d always blast it up in your room.”
“I did,” she admits with a chuckle. “For months. It drove Mav crazy.”
“It got to the point where I’d be humming it in the shower.”
She tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t think you noticed.”
Unable to help myself, I shift closer as my gaze stays pinned to hers. “I noticed everything.”
For just a heartbeat or two, the music blasting through the speakers and chaos around us fades to the background. It’s so damn tempting to lean closer and—
