AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But that’s for another night, and certainly not with this woman.
“What’s your name?” Because I swear, she’s familiar even if I can’t place her. Could be from the emergency department with the number of people I see coming in and out of there.
“Are we doing names?”
I laugh. “I didn’t realize we weren’t.”
“We weren’t, but now I’m curious. I’m Layla. No last name.”
“I’m Callan. Also no last name.”
She squints at me, and I regret pressing the whole names thing. People in Boston know me as Callan Barrows from the band Central Square. We were one of the biggest pop/rock bands of our time until our manager, Suzie, dropped dead of a stroke in the shower at the age of twenty-two. We were five guys—plus Suzie—who all grew up in Central Square, Cambridge, and Suzie was the girlfriend of Zax, our bassist, and the twin sister of Lenox, our pianist.
After that, we couldn’t find it in us to go on, but in truth, I was done before that. I did college entirely online, premed college at that, which wasn’t easy. I had to find lab time in between tours.
I wanted Harvard Medical School, and I had an in for it with Dr. Lawrence and the money I was willing to pay. I had mentioned to Greyson—our frontman and Zax’s younger brother—that I was thinking of leaving the band. Suzie died two weeks later, and I felt more guilty for wanting to leave the band than I ever had before. That all happened eight years ago, but this is Boston and we’re still among their favorite celebrities.
She continues to scrutinize me, but our tequila is delivered, and she doesn’t press it further, and I’m grateful.
Whether she recognizes me or not now, I don’t think she initially did, and I like that about her. I’m not Dr. Barrows or Callan Barrows, drummer for Central Square to her. I’m just a guy who saved her from a dickhead and is now having dinner with her.
I raise my glass and she does the same.
“What are we toasting to?” she asks, swirling the clear liquid around the block of ice.
“To an unexpected turn of events?” I suggest.
“I’ll say.” She holds her glass out to mine and we tap them together before she tosses back every drop of tequila.
I choke out a laugh. “That’s sipping tequila.”
She runs a hand through her hair, flipping the long strands over to the other side of her neck. “Is that what that was?” Her lips smack. “Who knew? I’ll sip the next one, I promise. You have no idea how badly I needed that.”
“Actually, I do.” I toss down mine the same way she did and signal our waiter for our next round. “I had a bad day too, remember?”
“I know we shared names, but I don’t feel like sharing my woes.”
I wipe away the excess tequila from my lips. “Good thing, because I had no intention of sharing mine.”
She beams at me. “Awesome. You’re that kind of guy. Hot and broody.”
A gust of breath hits the air as she takes me completely off-guard. “I’ve never been called broody.” If anything, I’ve always been the easygoing guy. The dependable one.
“No? Only hot?”
“Is that what you’re calling me? Because I can safely say, I’ve never wanted a woman to think I’m hot more in my life than right now with you.”
“Gorgeous? Hot? You’re everything in between for sure. That dimple in your cheek is doing crazy things to my insides, but you didn’t hear that from me.” She gives me a wink before turning a little serious. “But for real, are you not normally this broody?”
“No,” I admit. “I’m normally considered the nice guy.”
“The nice guy,” she parrots as if testing the words on her tongue. “I can work with that. I don’t necessarily need broody to get off.”
I guffaw just as the gyoza and edamame are set before us.
I raise my eyes to hers, unabashed lust in my gaze as I stare directly at her. “Then what do you need to get off?”
2
