Page 6 of Verses Of Us

“Aren’t you in a hurry?”

Ciarán’s shoulders dropped as he followed her line of sight, then he sighed heavily. “Right. I guess I am.”

“Well, let’s make the most of our visitation time, then.” Thinking up her next question, she glanced up at the ceiling. “What’s the best album you’ve listened to this year?”

He frowned, shoving the hair back from his face, and she worried she was being too flippant. “Baby One More Time?”

She giggled. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“What? Britney’s good.” He leaned in, tucking his hands into the crook of his elbows. He was so much closer now, and her chest tightened. “What about you?”

“Other than your album?”

“Oh, God, yes, other than mine.” He pressed his eyes shut.

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s alright.”

“Ciarán, it’s a great album.”

He pursed his lips, and she watched the way he rubbed his bicep with his thumb, digging into the muscle. “Right, but when you sing the same songs every day, it gets a tad redundant.”

Alexis had listened to his album on repeat for weeks now and found it anything but redundant. “Well, I love it. I think you’re being too hard on yourself.”

That crooked smile returned. “That may be. What else do you like?”

“Lately, I’m into The Roots’ new one.”

At first, Ciarán’s brow creased, as if disappointed. Then his expression shifted. His head bobbed and his face lit up. “Nowthat’sa great fucking album.”

They spent the remaining time together talking about the upcoming show, about their mutual love for Oasis and resentment of Liam Gallagher—Ciarán had beef with him over some girl—and she gloated about heading to college to study journalism.

But before long, Anthony interrupted them. He avoided pleasantries and cut straight to the chase, tugging Alexis from her chair.

She jerked away from his icy palm pressed against her back and, collecting her purse, held her hand out. “Thank you, Ciarán. You’ve made my year.”

Like a true gentleman, he came to her side and took her hand, cradling it between his. A spicy and woodsy scent hit her and did something strange to her insides.

“This was great. I’m sorry we didn’t have longer.”

She didn’t miss the cautionary glare he threw behind her, or the way his hands tightened around hers. Anthony cleared his throat, but tore his eyes away as if he hadn’t been listening to their conversation.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Alexis reluctantly released Ciarán’s grip and reached into her purse for her copy of his latest album. “Could I have your autograph?”

With a nod, he pulled the booklet out of the CD’s plastic case, leaning over the table to sign it. She admired his profile, the angle of his straight nose, and zeroed in on the thin line that framed his mouth and that led up to his dimpled cheek. Knowing she might never be this close to him again, she tried to burn his image into her mind.

When he handed her the CD, she didn’t dare look away from his face and shoved the album back into her bag.

“Thank you again.” Without thinking, she stretched up and kissed him. Her lips lingered a second too long against his cheek and sparks ignited the space between their bodies.

“It was my pleasure, Alexis.” Her name, a hushed and heated murmur from his beautiful mouth, was the glue that kept them from stepping away from each other. “Where are you sitting tonight?”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Not sure. General admission.”

He dropped his hand to her hip and pulled her closer, then whispered in her ear, “Try to be close to the stage, if you can.”

Puzzled, she looked up at him, but before she could speak, Anthony returned, and like a bucket of ice-cold water, broke them apart. He guided her toward the exit, but as she neared the doors, she glanced over her shoulder. What she saw made her heart swell like a balloon about to burst.

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