Page 41 of Forbidden Lyrics

“You might be sheltered, but you’re not dumb,” she argues. “I’m sure you didn’t imagine it, Dove. I wouldn’t stress, though. Maybe he was nervous.”

“Nervous? Gibson? Why would he be nervous? I’ve seen him kiss random chicks at bachelorette parties at SeaBird without batting an eye. And we both know he’s into threesomes, so it’s not like a simple kiss would be that nerve-wracking, either.”

Acid churns in my stomach as the realization slips past my lips. He’s into threesomes. Threesomes. Why in the world would he ever be interested in a girl like me?

“Touché,” Reese concedes, albeit grudgingly. “Hmm… Maybe it’s because you’re different to him––”

“And maybe it’s because I’m imagining things. Besides, I can’t dissect what I hope he’s thinking or feeling. I can only acknowledge what he’s actually said to me, and that’s pretty straightforward. I’m a good friend. That’s it. And honestly? I should probably be grateful. At least he doesn’t hate me anymore.”

“He never hated you, Dove. And even though I can vouch for you on the friendship front that you are indeed a good friend, I still don’t understand how putting you in that particular box makes sense to him.”

“Neither do I, but I don’t see any other conclusions rising to the surface, so that’s what I’m going to have to go with. And I definitely don’t want to get my hopes up.” Slouching in defeat, I turn onto the main road and try not to overthink everything, even though it feels impossible. There’s too much conflicting evidence. I don’t know what to think anymore. Or what to feel. Or what to hope for. I hate it.

“Look at the bright side. At least now, you’re admitting you like him,” she points out.

I snort. “Like that’s going to get me anywhere––”

“Hey, the doctor’s here,” Reese whispers into the phone. “I gotta go. Thanks for covering for me at work and for the epic distraction. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Sounds good. Bye, Reese.”

“See ya, Dove.”

The call goes dead, and I set my phone in the cupholder in the center console before driving the rest of the way to work with way too many thoughts floating through my head faster than the rush hour traffic.

Chapter Twelve

Dove

“Hey, what’s going on?” I ask as Gibson glares at his cell. SeaBird is packed like always, but there’s a certain buzz simmering beneath the surface that’s heavy with anticipation. And it’s only grown as the night has gone on.

He punches his fingers against the screen, lifts it to his ear, and seethes, “Broken Vows is supposed to be playing right now, but Fender’s missing.”

I look over at the stage to see the rest of the band set up and ready to go, with the exception of a certain singer.

“He’s late sometimes, isn’t he? Not a big––”

“It’s a big deal,” Gibbs growls. “There’s a rep who was scheduled to stop in and see us play. But Fen isn’t here to actually put on the show. If he screws this up for the band…” His voice trails off as he hangs up the call before pressing Fender’s number again.

Crap.

That is a problem. Frowning, I search the crowd in hopes of finding Fen, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“Why don’t you get up there?” I ask. “You know the music. You know how to sing––”

“I gotta find Fen.”

I bite my lip and scan the restless crowd. Again. Their energy is starting to match the man’s beside me.

“Where is he?” I ask. “Maybe I can go get him while you sing.”

His gaze snaps to mine as he hangs up the call again. “I need you to get on stage.”

My jaw drops. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I need you to get on stage and sing. You can be the opening act while I go find Fender. We can pretend this was the plan all along. It could work.”

This can’t be happening.

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