Page 29 of The Charm of You

And it worked… for a while.

But somewhere along the way, I’ve just grown more lost than ever, haven’t I?

Blood rushes to my ears as I submerge myself in this peaceful feeling The Tipsy Tap offers, no matter how temporary it is. It feels good right now, and that’s what I need.

I can worry about the jumbled pieces of my life crumbling in the background tomorrow.

The band switches songs, and Austin’s voice shines as they launch into “Wild as Her” by Corey Kent. It’s like the song was really made for Austin to sing.

His gruff voice hits every note with ease and finesse, while his fingers expertly glide over his guitar.

And his eyes lock onto mine as he belts the lyrics of the chorus, which sends electricity down my spine, especially as I remember what he said to me earlier about the fire in me.

“It looks good on you.”

It might’ve been the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.

chapter

eight

AUSTIN

The smell of pine and a myriad of spices fills my senses.

The strings on my guitar pinch my fingers as we reach the last verse of our fourth song.

The faint taste of beer lingers on my tongue as I sing the words I know so well, all of which means one thing—it’s Sunday night at the Tap.

Locals sway to the tune in front of us, but one face stands out. She’s the only difference between tonight and the many other nights I’ve stood on this stage.

Caroline Summers.

She might as well have a spotlight on her. I can’t help but focus solely on the frustrating woman. It’s like she’s the only one in the room, and she never looks away from me, either. Even as she wraps her pink lips around her straw for a sip of her dark drink, she holds eye contact with me as if she’s incapable of turning away.

The final note leaves my mouth with extra intensity, fueled by the unwavering attention from my high school crush.

She’s confusing the hell out of me by being here, in this bar, in this town. I was turned the fuck on when she told me off earlier, and as I recall the heated moment now, I sweat through my good shirt. It’s one of three I own that doesn’t have permanent oil and grease stains on it.

At the end of our set, Gemma, Hunter, and I shuffle off the stage. After another round of karaoke, the three of us will be back to serenade the remaining crowd before closing time. I suspect the bar will clear out in the next hour or so. People have work in the morning, kids to shuttle to school, and other obligations.

It’s a school night for Addie, which means she’ll be the first to leave. She comes every Sunday to support me, though tonight, it seems she’s mainly here for Maren and the former homecoming queen.

Caroline gets under my skin like an annoying splinter. It’s exactly how I felt in high school, when she didn’t know I existed, no matter how many times I picked up a pencil she’d dropped or assisted her with a Spanish assignment. The latter might’ve only happened once, since I barely kept up with that class myself, but still—it fucking counted.

And it was nice as hell.

I didn’t know just how little I mattered to her until yesterday.

Now, she’s screwing with my head by trying so damn hard to win me over, but I refuse to get sucked into her sweet vortex. Her apologies are not genuine, even though I really wish they were, which is just the cherry on top of this sundae of nostalgic nightmares.

“You have to sing!” Caroline says as I approach the three women.

Addie’s scoff overpowers her friends’ squeals. “Not even chugging the entire bottle of tequila back there could make me sing on that stage.”

“If y’all care about the rest of us in the slightest, you won’t let Addie sing.” I smirk, especially when my friend pins me under her narrowed gaze. “Her singing sounds more like nails scraping the side of a truck.”

“I have to agree on this one.” She holds her hands up, and next to her, I lock eyes with Caroline.

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