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Make up your mind.
I’m barely able to hide my apprehension and dismay. My heart skips around like a stone on a river. Every part of me wants to scurry in the other direction, but I have to stand my ground. Pretend like I’m unaffected. Moments later we’re face-to-face, though he towers over me despite my six-inch heels.
“Jordan.” My name sounds like melted chocolate the way he draws it out, calm but carrying an undercurrent of something—more.
“Peter.” I manage to keep my voice steady. “The place looks great, well done.”
His blue eyes bore into mine. Heat flares between us. “Thanks, I can’t take all the credit. Fiona and Zane made it come alive.”
“Sure. Well, it’s good to see you…” Suddenly, I have the urge to flee and take a step backward.
“Jordan, this is Rose.” Peter gestures to the woman who steps to his side, thwarting my plan to escape. “We’re colleagues. She’s a crucial part of my team.”
“I just got lucky by winning the office drawing.” Rose extends her hand with a friendly smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jordan. Peter’s told me a lot about your work. I’ve always wanted a tattoo, but I’m too scared of needles to get one.”
“You’re not alone.” I grasp the tips of her fingers and release them quickly.
Peter’s gaze lingers on me for a moment. A myriad of emotions dance across his face. “I hoped we could talk tonight. Maybe after the band plays?”
“Uh…” I hesitate, unsure of trying to have a conversation with him in a public setting where emotions are bound to run high. “Let's play it by ear. I need to return to my friends, find me later.”
Quickly, I make my way to my table and force myself not to look back at Peter. I rejoin Alex and Zoey on the banquette and take a gulp of wine.
“So, what was that all about?” Alex leans in.
I roll my shoulders. “He wants to talk later.” I try to sound nonchalant, but my voice betrays me.
“Hmmm…” Zoey purses her lips. “He hasn’t taken his eyes off you all night. Do you think you should hash it out?”
I shrug, my gaze flickering to where Peter is sitting with Rose. “I don’t know.”
The entire room goes black, cutting off our conversation. Around us, a high-tech light display beams LTZ logos all around the room as the smoke machine fills the space, creating a mystical feeling. Though the room is still dark, my brother’s bass drum starts thumping. And thumping. And thumping. It creates a level of excitement and anticipation that’s palpable.
Just when the crowd is about to lose their minds, Zane’s guitar cuts through the percussion, shredding into the intro of their first hit, Rise. I know how much this moment means to the band, and to experience their comeback with them nearly makes me cry.
Throughout the evening, I feel Peter watching me. His table isn’t far from ours, and every few minutes our eyes meet in a silent exchange. Rose, meanwhile, seems utterly captivated by the band, her excitement almost childlike as she watches them play.
At one point, as Zoey and I are dancing to Kick It, I glance over at him. Our eyes lock, and he mouths, “I’m sorry.” The sincerity in his eyes melts away some of the resentment and insecurity I’ve been harboring. Not all of it, but enough to make me want to hear him out.
Alex nudges me, a knowing look on her face. “You okay?”
“Yeah!” I point at the band and resume dancing.
LTZ plays for nearly four hours with five encores, the last one turning into a jam session with most of Seattle’s most famous rockstars getting up on stage. It’s nearly two in the morning when they take their final bow.
Afterward, everyone in our group gathers their things. The band wives disappear down the secret staircase to join their husbands. My folks went home an hour ago, leaving me on my own.
I find myself both dreading and longing for the moment Peter approaches me. Part of me wonders if he’ll follow through. My heart plummets when I look in the direction of his table to find he and Rose are gone.
I feel a zap of electricity when a hand cautiously touches my shoulder. “Jordan, about our talk…”
Before he can continue, Rose, who’s visibly ill, interrupts, “Peter, I’m so sorry but I'm really not feeling well. I think I need to go home.”
Concern washes over his face. “Of course, let’s get you home.” He turns to me, genuine regret permeating his gaze. “I’m sorry, Jordan. Can you meet tomorrow? Just the two of us? I owe you a huge apology and I’d like to talk about everything. Clear the air.”
I’m torn, the evening’s events have left me emotionally exhausted. Yet, there’s a huge part of me that needs to understand what’s been left unsaid between us.
“Alright, Peter. Tomorrow,” I agree cautiously.
