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My dick was hardening again, and I pressed into the bar, unable to adjust myself with his full attention on me. It was so fucking unfair that he could affect me like this. “Yeah. What was the secret ingredient?”
He leaned right across the bar, his lips brushing against my ear, and I couldn’t stop the shiver that went through my body. “Activated charcoal,” he murmured, and those two words had never sounded sexy until he said them in that low, husky tone.
“I wouldn’t have guessed that. What’s your type, Cole?”
His lips touched my ear again, his breath hot on my skin. “I think you already know the answer to that.”
* * *
“Hux, meet Tom.” Cole’s voice cut through the stupor I’d fallen into. I’d had three of those cocktails now, and to my horror, I’d found myselfhumming alongwith yet another Britney throwback. I couldn’t believe it.
I was sitting on a stool at the very end of the bar, away from the crowds, and I’d spent ninety percent of the time I hadn’t been drinking just watching Cole work. I saw several people try to get his number, but he turned all of them down, which shouldn’t have made me feel as good as it did. Now I turned to the new guy. He was tall and pale-skinned, with jet-black hair that I was pretty sure was dyed. Tattoos snaked up his arms, and metal piercings glinted in his ears. He grinned at my perusal, sticking out his hand. “Huxley. Nice to meet ya. I’m Tom.”
I darted a look at Cole, who was also grinning. “Tom’s your surprise.”
Mywhat?
Tom chuckled at my confusion. “I work here. Last week, I mentioned to Cole that I was looking for a new singer and guitarist for my band. He told me that you were…what was it…a fucking amazing guitarist and you had an incredible voice and that I’d be crazy to even think of picking anyone else.”
Glancing back at Cole, I noticed his cheeks were flushing, and I was helpless to stop my smile. He’d thought of me? Even though that would’ve been before we’d been on more civil terms? “Yeah. I’m alright. Can you tell me a bit about the band?”
He took the stool next to me, and we fell into a discussion about the band and the music they were into. The band was named the 2Bit Princes, and they played a mix of covers and original music. Apparently, they’d previously had a lead singer, but he’d moved to Manchester, and now they were looking for a replacement. As well as Tom, the other member of the band was a guy called Curtis, who was a drummer and was also going to be starting at LSU this September. Tom was the songwriter and lead guitarist, and when I mentioned that I dabbled in writing lyrics, he seemed genuinely interested in collaborating on some of the songs with me.
Honestly, it sounded too good to be true. I’d been scraping by in life, and I’d never really given serious thought to doing anything like this because it had seemed so out of reach for me. No one had ever encouraged me to go for what I wanted before.
But Cole had seen something in me.
He’d believed in me, even when no one else had.
13
The large garage was piled high with junk all along one wall, but the majority of the space was clear, with three guitars and amps, microphones, and a set of drums grouped around the centre.
Tom inclined his head at me when I entered, sliding my sunglasses onto the top of my head and blinking as my eyes adjusted to the dim interior after the brightness of the sun outside. “Alright?”
“Alright.” I nodded back, wandering over to the guitars. I ran my fingers over the smooth wood of the closest guitar. “Gibson. Niiice. I wasn’t expecting a setup like this.”
He grinned. “Yeah. Perks of having a brother that runs a music shop. All the discounts.” Sliding onto one of the stools in front of the guitars, he picked up a cherry-red Gibson Les Paul and strummed it experimentally. “We got lucky. Just after I left you last night, I heard from Curtis. He thinks he’s found us a bass player. So we’ll play these two guitars, and Rob—our new bass guitarist, if all goes well—gets the Fender all to himself. He can play keyboard too, so we’ll try a mix and see what works.”
“Sounds good.” I picked up the second electric guitar, another Gibson, this one in a glossy jet black. While Tom fiddled with the amps, getting everything ready, I began tuning my guitar, getting a feel for it. I had an electric guitar back at home, although it wasn’t anywhere near this quality, and I normally defaulted to my acoustic. This particular guitar was fucking gorgeous, and I already knew we were going to make magic if Tom and Curtis were half as talented as Tom had said they were.
“Tom!”
I glanced up from the guitar to see two guys entering the garage. One was lean, around the same height as me, with tousled brown hair and a smile on his face. The other was tall and hulking, with wild red curls and a thick red beard. Flesh tunnels adorned his ears, and he had piercings in his septum and the bridge of his nose.
“Curtis.” Tom raised his hand at the brown-haired guy, who shot me a curious look before turning to his companion.
“This is Rob. Rob, meet Tom, our songwriter and lead guitarist, and that means…you must be Huxley. Our potential new guitarist and lead singer.”
I nodded, and he stepped over to me, shaking my hand. We all exchanged greetings, and then Tom suggested that we get started with a song we all knew to see how well we could work together. After going through the 2Bit Princes’ usual set list, we settled on “Dakota” by Stereophonics, a song we were all familiar with.
As I sang the opening lines, the metal of the microphone almost brushing my lips, I couldn’t stop my smile. Glancing to my left, I caught Tom’s wide grin, and as he joined me in the chorus, it was like we’d been singing together for years instead of this being our first time. Our guitars in sync with Rob’s smooth bass lines, and Curtis controlling the rhythm with his drums…this was pure fucking magic.
Right then, I wished that Cole could be here to see me.
* * *
“It went well, then?” Cole raised a brow at me, a smug grin on his face as he leaned back against the kitchen counter. His smugness was irritating as fuck, but I couldn’t bring myself to be annoyed with him. If it wasn’t for him, today wouldn’t have happened. Not only that, but even smug, he was still hot. Memories of the club assaulted me—how he’d leaned across the bar, his lips touching my ear, sending shivers through my entire body. How I’d wanted to kiss him.
