Page 10 of Stray for You

I don’t bother telling Erin that. Everyone wants to celebrate a successful show, and I don’t want to be the guy who kills the mood. Besides, she’ll probably forget about it if I simply don’t respond.

Already, everyone has moved on to reliving the show, rehashing every moment in excited voices. The next band is on, the echoes of their music thumping through the walls of the green room. This is the perfect moment to get out of here, and I make to do exactly that.

“Are you leaving?” Tim says before I can escape.

“I have to be at the café tomorrow,” I say by way of apology. “I wish I could stay and help, but I’m opening. I’ll be up early.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “Call out or something.”

“I can’t,” I say. “I just started there. It’ll mess with my co-workers. There’s only three of us.”

“I thought you started back in summer.”

“It was the end of summer,” I say. “And that’s only a few months ago.”

“Whatever,” Tim says.

But Kelsey isn’t letting me slip away so easily. “You’re killing the vibe,” she complains.

“The vibe will be better without me, trust me,” I say.

It’s true. I’m in no fit state to celebrate with people tonight. My thoughts are tumbling around like socks in a dryer. I’ve been called a downer at the best of times; tonight, I am far from my best.

“I really have to get going,” I say.

Erin looks skeptical, but she doesn’t stop me, finally showing me mercy. Tim and Kelsey scowl at me, but that’s nothing new.I’m never the life of the party. If they hadn’t needed a guitarist so bad after their first one bailed on them, there’s no way I would have auditioned for and gotten into The Ten Hours (don’t ask me about the name. Something about how long Erin spent on her first song, I think).

I don’t take a real breath until I get out of the green room and into the hall with my gear. It’s heavy and awkward, but I drag it down the hall anyway. The glow of the exit sign is like the light of heaven beaming down on me. Once I get out of here, everything will be fine. I can get away from here, from my bandmates, from Julian, and go back to my safe, solitary apartment.

I throw my shoulder against the door in my haste to open it. My guitar is on my back. I haul the amp with me as I make a beeline for my car, which sits parked in the lot behind the bar, and pop the trunk to throw my stuff inside. My guitar and amp lie in a messy heap atop emergency blankets and assorted junk. My guitar deserves better than this, and normally I’d handle it with the utmost care, but my heart is beating too fast tonight. It’s like a hungry tiger is tracking my steps, prowling after me through the jungle. My only hope is to get in my car and speed away.

“Cam.”

His voice stops me. I don’t turn to acknowledge him. I freeze while bent over arranging things in the trunk. I straighten slowly, but don’t face him, even when I close the trunk. I clutch my keys in my hand. I could make a break for the door and start the engine, drive off before he can stop me, but it would be pointless. There’s no escaping Julian Brooks. Hasn’t been for most of my damn life.

Slowly, so slowly, I turn to face him.

Chapter Six

Julian

I SPEND TEN MINUTES pacing the streets of Seattle before I find the parking lot behind the bar. Cam bursts out of an emergency exit as I watch, rushing toward his car with his gear in tow. He throws his stuff in the trunk in a way that seems a bit rough, but what would I know about music? Maybe this is normal, though I suspect his careless hurry has more to do with me than with efficiency.

From the moment we locked eyes, I felt him wanting to run. I thought he might really do it before his band started playing. Then he … heshone. None of the lights in that bar were as bright as Cam when his fingers started moving along that guitar. The sound that erupted out of him swelled like hot air filling a balloon. It gave the music shape and form even as it occupied every corner of that bar.

I couldn’t look away.

I’m not sure I even breathed until his band finished their set and left the stage. I knew in that moment I couldn’t let this end with a quick glance across a bar. Cameron will hate me for this, more than he already hates me, but I had to find him; I couldn’t let him run away.

So I rushed from the bar without offering the other sales reps even the thinnest excuse and ran outside to find him. I was pretty sure he’d try to leave. He looked about to bolt as soon as the music ended. If he wasn’t escaping through the front door,he had only one choice: this parking lot around the back.

Sure enough, he’s here, his back hunched as he arranges things in his trunk. I approach slowly, as though the crunch of my footsteps might scare him away like a startled squirrel.

“Cam,” I say when I’m just out of arm’s reach.

He flinches, almost knocking his head against the trunk. Slowly, he closes the trunk and faces me, and the fury burning in those dark eyes nearly sends me running for the hills.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he says, voice low, like he had to force it out.

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