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I watched the expressions flitting over his face—the nervous way he licked his lips, the movement of his throat when he swallowed hard, the slight trembling in his hand when he placed his phone in his pocket.
Finally, he reached out, placing his palm against mine.
All my senses electrified. Like that first moment when I walked on stage—the buzz, the anticipation, the fever—it was the best feeling ever.
“First up, more coffee and beignets,” I declared as Van stood. “Then, a tour of the French Quarter and lunch at a hidden place that only locals know about. An afternoon at a jazz club on Bourbon Street. Oh, and an authentic Creole dinner, somewhere intimate.”
“That sounds amazing,” Van replied as he pulled me in close, our hips and thighs touching.
No more caffeine was necessary. I was wide awake now.
“But we’ll have Dawson with us. And you’ll need to wear a disguise or something.”
I nodded. “Don’t you have a baseball cap I could borrow? The one you wear when we’re on tour. It’s got a red and blue logo. I like it.”
“My Expos cap? Yeah, I have it with me. It… it belonged to my dad. He was a baseball fanatic, especially when Montreal had a major league team. I take that cap with me everywhere.”
Van’s eyes welled up, but he quickly blinked away his tears.
“He’s always with you.”
“He is.”
I gripped his waist, the heated muscles quivering under my palm. I slid my hand around to rest on his lower back and pulled him in even tighter. God, being this close to him was already making this the best day ever.
“This okay?” I asked.
“More than,” he admitted, his deep blues filled with a longing I recognized.
He reached up and cupped my face.
“I’ve never… I mean… with a man.” He shook his head. “I think I’m bisexual or pansexual. I’m not sure. But I’ve never been with a man. Never kissed one, nothing. I thought maybe I’m too old, but here we are.”
“You’re never too old. It’s just like singing,” I murmured as we shared the same breath. “You don’t always know what you’re gonna sound like or if you’re gonna hit those notes, but you gotta try.”
“I’m nervous as fuck.”
His hands were trembling. I turned my head and brushed my lips against his palm.
“I know. We take this at your pace; there’s no rush.”
“Why me? You could have anyone. Like one of those models Greg wants you to be seen with.”
Van practically growled, his blue eyes darkening. It gave me enormous satisfaction.
“Stop right there. I’m here with you,” I squeezed his waist and moved in closer. “Why do you think I haven’t been with anyone else in ages? Even the guys have noticed my lack of a sex life. Hell, Greg, too, and that’s why he suggested the ‘date,’ right?”
Van’s face flushed, and the color suited him. “No one? For how long?”
“Eleven months and thirteen, no, fourteen long fucking days.”
“What?”
Van practically shouted, his eyes widening.
“Hush, that’s between you and me and this hotel room. I don’t want to ruin my rock star reputation.”
“Are you serious?”
