Page 10 of It Started with a Kiss
‘Well, hellooooo there, handsome,’ came Alec’s voice from beside me.
I swivelled around to face him, opening and closing my mouth like a dying trout. ‘It’s... he’s... I...’
Alec burst into fits of laughter and nudged me with his shoulder. ‘Use your words, Star. Use your words.’
I stared aghast in the direction of the stage and at the gorgeous Scottish guy singing ‘Numb’ by Linkin Park.
Turning to Alec, I pointed towards the stage. ‘I... I know him.’
Alec’s eyes widened. ‘Well, lucky you. Is he gay? Please say yes.’
I frowned and shook my head as my gaze trailed back to the stage and I realised I had no clue. He could’ve been marrying a guy, I suppose. ‘I... I don’t know.’ But, deep down, I just knew he was straight. I think it was the way we had shared a moment on the day before his wedding. Something inside me knew he wasn’t gay.
Alec bumped me again and almost knocked me off my feet, I was so stunned. I glanced back to my best friend and pseudo big brother to find him standing, arms folded. ‘You can’t know him too well then, love.’
Ignoring Alec’s bitchy comment, I switched my attention back to the stage once again. I watched as the beautiful, clean cut man stomped around the stage like he was meant to be there. Like he owned the damn place. The amount of venom and angst he injected into the angry lyrics made me shudder. It was like he was singing thematsomeone. Someone who had wronged him severely, and I pitied whomever it was.
He didn’t quite look like himself up there.
But, oh my God, he was incredible.
Now, I know that up on a stage with bright lights shining on him, he was bound to look different, ethereal somehow, but his eyes looked a little sunken and...sad. But the rest of his demeanour screamed aggression—the clenched fist and gritted teeth along with the sneer on his lips—so either he was a great actor as well as an amazing singer, or he reallywassinging the lyrics to someone who’d hurt him badly.
Then it hit me. He washere. Mr McYummy was on a stage in an Edinburgh nightclub. Not on some tropical island with his perfect new bride. Did this meanshewas the one who’d wronged him? I hated the fact that my stomach fluttered at the prospect.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I could no longer form words, nor could I calm the thundering of my heart in my chest. He was...amazingThere was no doubt in my mind that he belonged up there. His voice alone was panty-melting, but coupled with his electric blue eyes piercing through just about everyone in the audience—indiscriminate of gender—he had me ready to throw my underwear at him. He had the stage presence of a rock god. And I was in lust.
Head over heels in pure, unadulterated lust.
7
Fin
By the time I unlocked my apartment door, I felt as sick as a dog. I slammed the door and staggered my way to the bathroom, making it just in time to throw up the meagre contents of my stomach. What the hell had I been thinking? Seriously?
After I had splashed my face with cold water, I made my way to the bedroom. Elise’s stuff was all gone. An eerie loneliness settled over the place, but thankfully, I was too drunk to really acknowledge it. If only I was so pissed that I couldn’t remember the events of the night. Unfortunately, and much to my chagrin, I was not. The whole getting up to sing thing whirred round inside my head. Or maybe the spinning was alcohol induced. I don’t know. All Ididknow was that I could remember what I’d done on that stage vividly.
Bollocks.
* * *
I awoke to a loud ringing sound, each and every piercing note drilling another hole into my already tender skull. I carefully opened my eyes and stared up at the ceiling. The noise registered in my hazy mind as the telephone.
Pulling myself to an upright position, I held my head as the room tilted and turned. I managed to clamber to my feet and looked down to discover I was still in yesterday’s work clothes. My head was spinning so I took steady steps until I reached the living room where my phone screamed from its charging point.
Lifting it to my ear, I croaked. ‘Hello?’
‘Hunter, you’re alive. How are you feeling, mate?’ Tom’s all too cheery voice annoyed me right away. Why wasn’thefeeling like death?
I rubbed at my temples. ‘Um... I feel like death on a stick. You?’
‘I’m okay, pal. Didn’t drink as much as you.’ He laughed and I wished he was here so I could punch him.
‘Great. Lucky you.’ My response was filled with all the sarcasm my poorly head could muster.
His chuckle angered me further. ‘Anyways, are you up for a bit of brekkie? Thought a nice plate of stodge might do the trick.’
