Page 64 of Wish You Would

I was exhausted. It’d been a long day of classes and dissertation research, and I couldn’t wait to crash. But I wanted to see Gigi first. No, I had to see her.

A little zap of giddiness shot through me as I wove through the crowd. It’d been a near-impossible feat, leaving her bed this morning. If it weren’t for the packed-full to-do list I had for the day, I’d have taken her up on sleeping in. Alas…I’d left her behind, naked and alone.

I desperately needed to make it up to her. With my lips.

Grinning to myself, I craned my neck to see the stage. The other night, Halle had said they were still searching for their singer. Sounded to me like they’d at least found someone for tonight’s show.

Something about the singer’s voice tickled at the back of my brain, lighting the neurons of recognition. As soon as the crowd parted, I saw why.

Gigi stood center stage, bathed in bright lights, her hair a neon halo around her head. She was glowing. Absolutely glowing.

I’d seen her perform before, obviously. But then, she was Gigi, friend and provider of ginger ale whiskies on long study nights. Now? Now, she was…everything.

My next breath stalled out somewhere in my larynx as I stared, captivated.

Oh, god, was she everything.

I was jarred from my trance by someone bumping into my gigantic backpack. “Sorry,” I shouted over the music, forcing my feet to uproot from the floor. Pushing through the crowd, I made it to the bar, where Dante was surrounded by adoring fans—er, customers.

“Hey,” I said when I caught his eye. “You mind if I drop this back there?”

He tilted his head in agreement, and I ducked behind the bar and dropped the absurd thing to the floor, tucking it out of the way so no one would trip. Then…then, I found her again. “Just a Girl” was winding down, and Gigi sang about how she’d had it up to here, voice wrapping around the notes with masterful emotion. By the time she sang the last line, the entire crowd was leaning forward, lambs at the altar.

I shouldered my way around people until I found a spot against the wall, and I sank into it, drinking her in. My eyes stayed on her as she took a swig from a bottle of water, then shook her hair away from her face. Behind her, the band transitioned into their next song. Her fingers tapped against the mic, keeping time with Halle. The moment Tommy joined in with his guitar, the crowd roared with recognition.

The smile that lit Gigi’s face was brighter than every stage light in this place. It illuminated my insides, too. I grinned, basking in the glow. “Bitch” wasn’t exactly a romantic song, but here I was, short of swooning anyway.

I stood there for the next two songs, grinning like a fool. Which was on brand for the entire day, really. I’d been utterly useless all day, unable to focus on anything that wasn’t the memory of Gigi’s lips, or hands, or the freckles along her collarbone. There were seven. I counted them sometime before sunrise, as we lay tangled in her bed. Seven perfect freckles, leading to two perfect breasts, leading to—

“Hello?”

I jumped, tearing my eyes from the stage to find Anya standing in front of me. “Oh, hey,” I said. “Sorry, I couldn’t hear you over—”

“The sound of your basement flooding?” She nodded. “Makes sense.”

I flushed and wished I had a cold drink to press to my cheek. “When did you get here?” I asked, desperately struggling to keep my eyes on my sister and not the hot woman onstage.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for, I swear, this entire fucking song.” She waved an arm behind her. “The whole time I was pushing through the crowd, I was yelling your name.”

My cheeks burned hotter. “Sorry. I was—”

“Eye-fucking the drummer, yeah. I know.” She shook her head, amusement dancing in her eyes, even as she admonished me. “Is this how it’s gonna be now? Your own sister coming in second to a hot girl?”

The drummer, I thought, pressing my lips together. Oh, right.

I hadn’t seen Anya since…well, since. There was so much to catch her up on.

“Yeah, about that,” I started, as the next song started. Something from Third Eye Blind, so Ryan took over vocals. I stifled the flare of disappointment as Gigi stepped aside to make room for him. “I, um…”

She settled into the spot next to me, bracing a boot against the wall. “You, um, what?”

I’m not interested in the drummer, I thought. I’m very into your boyfriend’s sister, however.

But instead of saying that out loud, I looked back to the stage. Gigi was on backing vocals, but seemed to be having just as good a time. As if she felt me watching, her eyes found mine, and she tossed me a wink. I smiled, heart skipping its next beat.

Oh, yeah. So very into her.

“Okay, what the hell?” Anya shoved away from the wall and stepped in front of me. “You’re a zoned-out mess tonight. Are you good?”

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