Page 11 of Falling for the Guy Next Door

“Hey, Bos, did you get her name?” I asked as we headed to the stage.

“Told you, it was Emily. She wrote it on the napkin.”

“No, not her. The woman with the cowboy boots. Did you get her name?”

Bosco stopped and looked at me, and I wished I hadn’t asked. “Ah, I see, you spotted her, too. She was right up by the stage for most of the first set, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Great, so I guess that’s game over for me,” he said angrily. I really regretted asking. It wasn’t as if I was going to see her again, and frankly, Bosco and I just didn’t need any other sources of contention between us. We were slowly losing that fluid connection that years of friendship had created.

“Yeah, she told me,” Bosco growled. “Find out for yourself,” he said as he pushed past me. He made sure we clashed shoulders hard.

People started clapping and cheering as Seth and Ronnie walked on stage. I took a deep breath. As far as breaks went, this last one wasn’t the least bit relaxing.

ChapterSeven

Layla

I’d moved away from the stage and the speakers. I’d been enjoying the music, especially the singer, but the noise was giving me a headache. Emily had stayed glued to her spot, but seeing her face as she cut through the crowd told me she’d had enough, too. Nash Ledger might have been handsome and a pleasure to watch and listen to on stage, but even Emily’s crush had its limits. The bar was extremely crowded, and it was still warm outside. The air conditioning system just couldn’t keep up. It was hot and stuffy, and even a cold glass of wine or beer wasn’t going to help.

Emily was pale as she reached me. “I need to get out of here before I have a panic attack.” Emily was very prone to panic attacks, but fortunately, I’d known her long enough that it never surprised me. I’d learned how to calm her right out of them.

“Take my arm,” I said. She gripped me like a little kid might grip their mom in a crowded supermarket. I led her through the crush of bodies to the exit. The rush of fresh air that swept in made both of us sigh with relief.

“I’ll drive. Let’s do your breathing exercises as we walk to the car,” I said and started the count pattern of taking in air, holding it and releasing it. She leapt right into it, and I counted for her all the way back to the car. By the time we sat down inside the car, Emily was breathing normally and color had returned to her face.

She rested back against the passenger seat. “I don’t know what happened.”

I started the car. “Really? We were packed like sardines in a hot room where beer flowed more freely than oxygen, and while their music was great, I think they could have lowered the volume on the speakers. My head is still throbbing.”

“Mine too.” We both reached instinctively to turn down the radio.

I laughed. “A sure sign that we’re getting old is both of us reaching to turn down the volume. How about a plate of pancakes at the diner?”

“Hmm, sounds good.”

I turned the car in the direction of the all-night diner. Emily looked much better. Crisis averted. She spun slightly toward me. “I’m so disappointed I didn’t get to talk to Nash. He never came out from the back room. Snob.” She turned forward again with a slight pout, then sighed. “He’s even dreamier in person.” She gasped. “I can’t believe Bosco was trying to get your phone number. He looked kind of surly as he walked away. I doubt many girls turn down that request.”

“Well then, he can’t be too disappointed because he will no doubt walk out with a phone full of new numbers tonight.”

“Do you think he’ll call me?” Emily asked with wide eyes.

“Bosco?”

She huffed. “No, silly. Nash. I sent the number with Bosco. Nash winked at me when he started the first set, so I’m holding out hope.”

I nodded about the wink, though I wasn’t convinced it was intentional or even directed our way. It seemed like Emily’s plan had a lot of holes. First, she had to rely on a surly Bosco handing his buddy a girl’s phone number. And something told me Nash got plenty of numbers slipped his way during their shows.

I pulled into the diner. The lot was mostly empty. It was well past the dinner hour and a few hours too early for the after-midnight customers. It was nice and cool inside the restaurant. We easily found a table and both ordered the blueberry pancakes with whipped cream.

Emily’s cheeks were pink again.

“You look way better than when you walked up to me in the bar,” I said. “I thought you were going to pass out.”

“I thought I was, too. I stubbornly wanted to hold on to that spot near the stage. Like you, my head was throbbing from being so close to the speakers and from staring so intensely up at the lit stage. The wine started giving me a stomachache, and I had this horrible vision of throwing up, right there in front of Nash Ledger. Of course, I also envisioned swooning and having him jump down from the stage to catch me in his strong arms.”

I’d considered telling Emily about my personal encounter with Nash for about five seconds. I wasn’t sure how she’d take it. This dream, this massive crush, was all hers. I wasn’t going to tiptoe into it and spoil it for her. And she was right. Maybe he would call her. I knew nothing about the man except he had a mesmerizing voice and he’d helped me out of a bind in the parking lot.

“Emily, I want to support you on this quest of yours, but promise me that you’ll keep your head about it. Nash Ledger probably leaves each show with dozens of phone numbers.”

Emily sighed dejectedly. “I know. I was hoping to make it to the end of the night. I thought if I stuck it out while the bar was emptying, I might have a chance to meet him personally, to put a face and personality to the number on the napkin.”

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