Page 60 of Love Medley
But then I notice Weston standing by the bar with a thunderous look on his face, like he would love to pummel Jake into the floor.
With a creeping sense of horror, it’s dawning on me that Weston is here to stay, no matter what I do. How can I even contemplate starting anything with Jake if we are haunted by my past every step of the way?
Chapter twenty
Jake
I’m on fire tonight, and it may be due to the most beautiful woman in the world sitting in my front row.
Lucy.
After this set is over, I’m in for a world of embarrassment, given that I spontaneously shouted to the world that Lucy was my girlfriend.
Again.
It seems that my declaration at Bill’s was only the first time I stated the hope in my heart.
But the stakes are much higher here at TNT—this is where I’ve always belonged, and introducing Lucy as my girlfriend to them is equivalent to bringing someone home to meet my parents for the first time. In fact, I'm pretty sure the staff will never let me live this down, and Luke will give me shit for the rest of my life.
But for some reason I don’t care. Maybe this is me trying to shout out an unvarnished truth that refuses to stay hidden. Maybe IwantLucy to know how I really feel. But also maybe it’s a safe confession—after all, up to this point, everything has been a performance, and that’s something I’m very comfortable with.
It would be much scarier to splay my heart out for Lucy when it’s just her and me—with no one watching.
As soon as I saw her tonight, the words to “Brown-Eyed Girl” immediately sprang to mind. I was a little worried that it might have been too on the nose, but seeing the stars shine in Lucy’s eyes, it was the right choice.
Lucy has always been beautiful, but tonight, she’s glowing: flushed cheeks, wide brown eyes, perfectly pink and kissable lips, and black hair cascading over her shoulders.
The bond between us grows every time I see her. I’ve never felt this mix of comfort and overwhelming euphoria with anyone else. She’s everything I never knew I wanted.
Lucy has burrowed in deep, and I’m unable to walk away.
And then that asswipe Weston came in, taking the focus away on what’s important.
Honestly, it’s astounding I’ve been able to perform at all. Maybe motor memory is kicking in, because I’m distracted as hell.
I’m more of a lover than a fighter, but I’m doing my best to battle Weston with my music, showing that stupid SOB exactly how Lucy should be treated. She should be supported, elevated, and cherished.
I bet that Weston has never shown her the admiration she deserves in publicorprivate. I may end up hurt, but I'll never regret letting her know someone in the world adores her.
At the same time, the lyrics hit differently tonight. Contrary to popular belief, “Brown-eyed Girl” is not a totally happy song—it’s full of nostalgia for past love.
Could Lucy be the one who gets away?
As I finish what I’m playing, Andy, the other pianist, picks up with the next song. We’ve been performing together frequently during the past year, and the transitions during our sets have become seamless.
I jog over to his side and ask in a low voice, “Hey, is there any way you can take over for the next few songs?”
Never missing a note, Andy shoots me a cheeky grin.
Oh, fuck, here we go.
“Because of a certain lovely lady in our front row?” he winks, fingers continuing to flow over the keys.
I sigh. “Something like that. Just give me ten?”
“I’ll make it fifteen. Go get her, tiger.”
Jesus.
