Page 58 of Love Medley
Unaware of my inner turmoil, Jake lifts his hand in greeting as he jogs over to us. “Hey, Lucy!” he says with a warm smile.
“Hey,” I say faintly, feeling my pulse speed up even more from his proximity.
We stand there for a beat, grinning like idiots at each other. The almost kiss, the holding hands, the night at Bill’s that didn’t start as a date but sure felt like one by the end—maybe that was real?
Amelia clears her throat loudly. “Hey, I’m Amelia,” she says, sticking out her hand.
“Oh!” I say, embarrassed. At this point, my heart sounds like a jackhammer echoing in my body, and the thudding rhythm is extremely distracting. “Yes, this is Amelia, and you’ve already met Isabelle. And Zoe’s somewhere near the bar.”
When I say the word “bar,” Jake’s eyes narrow and glance towards the side of the room, but the applause and cheers signifying the end of the last song request redirects his attention to me.
“I reserved a table near the front for you guys,” Jake says, his dimples only deepening, and I have an irresistible urge to touch one. While I’m shoving my hands into my pockets in a barely successful attempt to resist, he points to a small empty table with a white sign that has “Reserved for Lucy” written in Sharpie.
The sight of my name in Jake’s scrawling script sends a sharp thrill through me.
Jake lowers his lips closer to my ear, the sensation of his breath lighting my nerves on fire. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
Giving me a quick wink and a hand squeeze, Jake clambers back on stage and settles at the piano bench. He’s so confident—completely in his element. His relaxed affect at TNT reminds me of how he was at Bill’s, but magnified even more. It makes sense that this is very much his comfort zone.
Buzzing from head to toe, I touch the spot where he grabbed my hand.
What if thisisn’tjust an act?
“Oh my God, look,” Amelia says, nudging me.
At the door is my worst nightmare—Weston Ashcroft in the flesh, scanning the crowd with a scowl on his face.
“The villain of your story is here,” Isabelle breathes.
Wait, whyisWeston here? With a sinking dread in my gut, I flash back to my stupid previous self informing himexactlywhere I’d be this Saturday. Why do I keep doing this? You’d think I’d remember to tamp down my overexuberant mouth by now. And due to my chronic oversharing, I have to worry about Weston when I just wanted to focus on Jake and my friends.
Clocking my position, Weston shoots me something between a sneer and a smirk. Shuddering, I turn aside, feeling the menace of his gaze.
Jake’s not the only one under the spotlight tonight.
“Personally, I’d focus on your eye candy on the stage, not the steaming pile of caca behind you,” Isabelle says.
I snort. It’s typical for Iz to bypass standard curses and instead replace it with something more creative. But it never fails in making me smile.
I glance back up on the stage where Jake is readjusting his microphone to be closer to his lips. Oh, that mouth!
He nimbly begins the familiar chord progression of a well-known Van Morrison song. “Thanks so much for joining us tonight! For my next song, I’d like to dedicate this to my beautiful girlfriend Lucy in the front row. Feel free to sing along!”
It’s that word again, and my heart is set to burst out of my chest.
Girlfriend.
Would Jake really say that again in such a public setting if he didn’t feel something?
As if in response, he stares straight at me with a dimpled grin and starts singing “Brown-Eyed Girl.”
A squeal erupts from Isabelle, and Amelia is smiling too.
As for me, I’m falling headfirst, toppling over the precipice.
Jake’s voice pours over me, the honey baritone melting me into my chair. No doubt this song is a crowd classic, and a personal favorite of mine, but the lyrics are suddenly hitting me hard. There’s so much nostalgia in the words—a lost love that’s in the past. Will this be us? Will Jake just be that boy that I’ll remember fondly who serenaded me once long ago? Will we both become just a fleeting memory?
“He’s your fake boyfriend, huh?” Amelia startling me out of my bittersweet reverie, making air quotes when she says “fake.”
