Page 46 of Wicked Rockstar

“Hold on,” I dug into my purse and pulled out a compact mirror and a tube of lipstick. “I need to at least try to look like I made an effort.”

Killian watched as I applied a fresh coat of red lipstick and smacked my lips together. His gaze felt heavy, making my hands shake slightly under the scrutiny. “You look fine, Tink.”

I snapped the compact shut. “Fine is not the word any woman wants to hear when she’s getting ready to date ten different guys.”

His lips thinned, and he grunted an unintelligible response.

I waved my hand at him. “It’s easy for guys. You’re dressed in a hoodie and jeans and still somehow look like you’ve stepped off the cover of a magazine.”

He smirked. “Careful, Tink. That almost sounded like a compliment.”

I glared at him and yanked open the door. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

He took the door from me and gestured inside.

The bar hummed with nervous energy. Several small tables were set up, each with a number and two chairs. My palms began to sweat, and I rubbed them nervously on my jeans, instantly regretting it, hoping I didn’t leave a wet spot behind.

Killian’s hand on the small of my back nearly made me jump out of my skin. He leaned in close, his breath tickling my ear, making me shiver. “I’ve got you.” His voice was low, almost intimate, and the rush of heat on my cheeks had nothing to do with embarrassment.

I nodded, not trusting my voice or the fact that my stomach rolled so hard I thought I was going to be sick. He tugged his cap lower as he sauntered to the bar, and several women’s heads turned to follow him. Most likely trying to see if he was here for the speed-dating event.

My chest felt tight at the hunger in their eyes, which was ridiculous. Killian wasn’t mine. I only felt protective over him because of our friendship.

At least that’s what I kept telling myself as I tried to ignore the way my skin still tingled where he’d touched me.

I took a deep, steadying breath and approached the check-in table. A young, perky brunette handed me a name tag and a scorecard. “Grab a seat at any table, and once everyone is here, we’ll get started. Have fun!” Her overly excited voice made me cringe.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, pinning the tag to my cardigan. “I’ll try.”

I glanced at the bar, and panic swept through me when I didn’t see Killian. I scanned the rest of the room and spotted him at a small table close to where the event was happening. Itwas close enough that I was pretty sure he could listen in on the conversations.

He hunched forward, his elbows resting on the table, and with a quick glance even I had trouble recognizing Killian. Appreciation fluttered through me like gentle butterflies in flight. It was a risk being here without security and a flimsy hope that he wasn’t recognized. I couldn’t imagine why he was taking such a risk for me.

I flashed him a tentative smile and chose the seat closest to him. He gave me a quick chin nod, then returned to his drink. But as I settled into my chair, the heat of his gaze made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

A waitress stopped by to take my drink order. The situation called for a double, but instead, I asked for a margarita.

Slowly, all the tables filled up, and my first “date” arrived. We introduced ourselves. His dark black hair was slicked back, and his smile too wide, but I reminded myself this was just for practice.

“So, Trissa,” he said, breaking the ice first. “I’m Brad. What do you do for fun?”

What did I do for fun? My life had been consumed with Peter for so long. I fought the urge to escape as each second passed. Instinct had me wanting to start counting things to calm myself. Instead, I blurted out, “I, uh… I like to count things.”

Brad’s smile faltered. “Count things?”

I threw on a bright, overly broad smile, deciding to go with the insanity spewing out of my mouth. “Yeah, you know. Like how many orange cars I pass as I’m driving. Or how many stop lights until I get home, or how often someone says a word in a conversation. Like the word ‘um’.”

“Oh, okay.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He must think I was some kind of weirdo. Or a math savant. I almost snorted.

“How about you?” I sipped my drink, hoping it might cool down the raging inferno heating my cheeks.

“I, um, like cars.” His eyes jumped to mine, and I remembered my comment about counting the number of ‘ums’ someone said. Apparently, he did too.

Laughter tickled at the back of my throat.

As Brad prattled on about his car collection, my gaze drifted to Killian. Our eyes met, and the intensity in his stare made me forget what Brad was saying. I quickly looked back to Brad, I should’ve taken the chair facing away from Killian.

The timer mercifully buzzed, and Brad practically leapt from his seat.

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