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Rad looks at me without an ounce of recognition and then at his bandmate, shaking his head. If I had more time and energy, I’d ogle the lean, shirtless man hovering on stage, giving his friend a disapproving look. But I'm all out of fucks to give. They flew the coop the moment that assface dismissed me with a growl and wrist flick.
In high school, Rad sported the most ridiculous-looking mullet, pairing it with his new mustache. He's grown into his style, becoming a man all on his own. But the remnants of who he once was, has my heart squeezing when more unwanted memories pour through my mind at the sight of him, reliving one of the worst days of my life.
“Dude, what the hell did you do?” Rad says to Kieran with outrage, tinting his tone.
Stopping my retreat, I knock away the awful memories pushing at the forefront of my mind and lock them deep inside. They beg to reemerge and haunt me, but I don't let them. Long ago, I forced them down, and I never want to think about that day again. Not even with him, my hero, standing before me.
Leaning against the solid door leading to the long, private hallway, I pause to see what Assface has to say for himself because it had better be good.
My eyes narrow at the shirtless drummer, absentmindedly twirling a drumstick, pinching his face with concern. Dark eyes take me in from the stage above until he growls, focusing all his attention on the rude as fuck singer.
“Come on, man, you can’tnotbe an asshole for like all of five seconds?” His shouts echo off the walls. Satisfaction soars through me at his outrage, and I smirk, watching the other guy sputter for words. “Fix it, Kieran!” he shouts, pointing at me before I slip into the long, abandoned hallway, letting the door shut firmly behind me.
Passing the bathrooms and a storage closet, I make my way down the checkered linoleum hallway before I finally make it to the back office and enter the room. The once cluttered space now sits clean and organized.
Becoming a manager didn't happen overnight. Hell, it took four years of hard, greasy work. I've been watching Booker run this place for years, taking the opportunity to learn the ins and outs of everything from staffing to taxes to buying food and alcohol. Last month, Booker took the training wheels off and let me handle it as a test to see if I could hack it. I may be too young to run a bar, but Booker trusts me with his baby. And I've never been more thankful for the opportunities he's granted me. Despite my mother breaking up with him, having him in my life has been a godsend. I don't know where I'd be financially if it weren't for him suggesting this was a possibility
Silence stretches around me when I walk into my shared office and lean against the once-cluttered desk—gripping the edges to collect myself. In ten seconds, I need to slip back out of this office with a new check and present them with their money.
Even though they’re dicks. Okay, huge dicks.
This is business, and I need their business to continue to grow. The bigger their band gets, the more money I get, and the faster I can run away from this town to my dream college a few states away. All I have to do is survive community college and work two jobs. Easy peasy.
I swallow my damn pride and lean over to collect the company checkbook and write a new check out to the band.
To the Whispered Words, you sack of shits, here’s the money I owe you—one-thousand dollars.
I sigh, rub my tired eyes, and flip to the next check. As much as they deserve the first one, written with all my rage, I make a new check with their correct name and a much friendlier tone.
Whispered Words, $1,000.00.
As I rip the first check out, the office door slams open in a rush, shutting with a heavy thud. An embarrassing squeal leaves my lips as I stare into the same eyes that have left me breathless for many years.
Glazed-over eyes take me in, somehow looking slightly less harsh and judgmental. This time, Kieran doesn’t look down at me with disdain or disgust. Nope. It vanished from his expression. His eyes linger down my body, taking in the ripped shorts I stuffed my flat ass into and the tight black shirt clinging to my body. He swallows hard, slowly drifting his gaze up my torso and resting them on the words—River and manager resting on my tit.
“I bet you wish you looked at my tits before you dismissed me, huh?” I growl, crossing my arms over my chest, blocking his view.
Snapping his gaze up to mine, a renewed sense of anger ignites in the back of his eyes.
“If you would have just fucking told me you were the goddamned manager,” he scoffs again, throwing his hand in the air like this is all my fault.
What an assface. Seriously? All the oxygen leaves my lungs, renewing my rage.
“Like that would have made a fucking difference?” I growl back, pushing at his hard chest two times. Much to my satisfaction, I knock Kieran back a few steps, catching him off guard. His eyes bulge at me when I curl my fingers in his shirt, holding him upright. “You didn’t even give me the time of day. Maybe you should learn some respect, Knight,” I hiss his name like a curse, never wanting to speak it again. It feels foreign on my tongue, having not been uttered for so many years.
My Knight—the boy who swooped in and saved my pitiful ass from the bullies around the apartment complex and at school. He saved me more times than I can count and was my closest ally until he disappeared.
Something sparkles in the depths of his eyes. He gives a knowing glance when he looks down at me again and reads my name before meeting my eyes again, searching for the answers. All the color drains from his face, and he shakes his head with confusion. Swallowing hard, he licks his lips with a mist glazing over his eyes. His breaths hiccup until he finally returns to himself, and the realization settles in. Every inch of gruffness he displayed before disappears, and before me is the Kieran I knew when I was a kid.
"It's you," he whispers softly, easing the rugged plains of his face, almost disbelieving. His eyes scan my face like he's trying to memorize every inch. "Fucking Callum. I wished he had told me who he was emailing," he murmurs, shaking his head. Shadows lift from his eyes, and a lightness breaks through, bringing back the carefree knight I once knew.
“Tell me now,” he whispers in a softer tone, leaning down so our noses touch and our lips rest a millimeter apart. I'd beg him to close the distance and fuse our lips if I didn't loathe his existence right now. “Tell me now, River Blue,” he says the last part so softly I swear I’m getting whiplash.
Anger? Happy? Horny? Who knows? This guy is a friggin enigma I should run far away from. In fact, I should high-tail it out of this office before I do anything stupid. Like, fuck him. Now that would be a huge mistake. I glare into his beautiful, mismatched eyes, drawing me into his dangerous web. Piece by piece, I fall deeper into his gaze.
Holy disintegrating panties. If I don't remove myself from this situation, bad things will happen. Or good things, depending on how you look at it.
Sweat breaks out on my neck, lifting the hairs. His eyes dilate, almost turning black with desire. My fingers tighten on his shirt, torn between throwing him out of the room and having him bend me over. Right here. Right fucking now.
