Page 15 of Goodbye Note

It couldn’t be.

Don’t get your fucking hopes up.

When I caught a moment between songs, I cast a sly look in his direction, getting a better look at the tight, sleeveless undershirt. Over it he wore a beaten leather jacket. Safety pins hung from self-pierced ears, and he wore a smile stretched across his whole face.Those fucking dimples.

What a fucking sight.

One look, and he stole the breath from my lungs. I almost missed my chords, forgetting how to play or maybe how to function entirely.

Thankfully, the fingering came back to me, but I missed my backup vocals. My brother would have to get over it.

Why was Arik here? What in the world brought him to fucking Brooklyn?

Maybe he was here for some album promo. It had to be a coincidence he was in town the last night of our tour.

He wore this sexy puppy dog look about him as he dug his teeth into his lower lip. He caught me looking and smiled, shoving his hands into his pockets.

This guy. This fucking guy.

I tried to look away when he lifted his gaze again, seeking me out, but I couldn’t make myself. He smiled so warmly that it was infectious. I stood in front of my mic and sang my heart out, never taking my eyes off him.

How did Arik simply showing up here make me this happy?

Shit. I had to get myself together so I didn’t make an ass of myself.

We finished our set—somehow, and I bolted offstage to get into the crowd. I’d barely unplugged myself and ditched my guitar with my brother before I was making my way through the densely packed people waiting for the headliner. It would be at least thirty minutes before they went on, and chances were I’d get recognized, but I didn’t care.

I had one singular focus.

He wasn’t where he’d been when our show ended. I hoped he hadn’t left. He couldn’t only be here to see me, could he? But what other reason would he have?

Did he watch us play and bail?

Wouldn’t he have at least said hi?

Finally, I spotted him at the bar, and I slipped in next to him. “Hey there, star boy.”

“Star boy?” He turned to look at me with a smile that would light up the whole sky. ‘Star boy’ was so fitting.

“You picked it, not me.”

“Because we are Second Star?” he asked, amusement showing in his eyes as he picked up his drink.

“It’s that or Pan. Choose carefully.” I took it out of his hand before he could finish it and downed the last sip.

“Hey!” He reached for the glass, but it was already gone.

“Aren’t you too young to be drinking?”I knew he was twenty-one, but he had an innocence to him I found endearing.

“I’m almost twenty-two.” He held up a finger up to the bartender, and when he walked over, he ordered two more of his vodka UVs.

“You’re such a basic guy.” I had to laugh.

“I like sweet shit. No judging.” He tossed down cash and picked up the fresh drink. “What would you rather be drinking? Everything else tastes like shit. That Jack we drank gave me heartburn. And who can even afford this? After what it cost me in gas to get here, who is paying these prices in this economy?”

“What do you expect in New York?” I dug in my pocket for the drink tickets the venue gave us as part of our deal for playing tonight and replaced his cash. “I got this one.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, cheeks heating.

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