Page 8 of Oh Boy!
Sally
“Knock ‘em dead, gorgeous!” I slap my favorite guitarist’s toned butt, which makes him jump. This amazing man is everything to me; gorgeous is the least stunning quality of the former top model. I’ve never met someone who’s such a giver, but he needs to be on stage ASAP. Hence, I ignore our nearby audience. The cowboy DJ and his friend who resembles a much bulkier version of Gary Oldman in Dracula are long gone, so only a few band members, Nathan, and his chatty brother remain. The Whiskey Barrels love discussing their influences and their first encounter with the popular British model, as well as their breakthrough song “Show ‘Em What You Got.”
His large hand lands on my butt, and he winks, as if asking for permission to do so in public. At times, his confidence disappears, and he forgets that his fans drool over our goofy relationship. The idea’s always been to show that he’s in a committed relationship, but we don’t take each other seriously. I’m happy to be the Blake Lively to his Ryan Reynolds.
Finally getting the hint, he wraps his arm around my waist and turns to face me. Our muted conversation starts. We know each other by heart. Without further ado, his mouth molds into mine, and he dips me to guarantee that everyone gets the message. His tongue slips into my mouth for good measure. His touches leave me cold, but that’s how we roll. My genuine love for this wonderful man shines through my face and body language… Only love comes in many shapes and sizes. The one that Rupert and I share is platonic in nature and works for both of us; we call it companionship.
“Get a room already!”
Rupert comes up for air and bumps fists with Hardy, who’s not a fan of our PDA. Needless to say, he prefers to maintain his bad boy image and not be attached to one woman. To each their own, right?
With my man on stage, I berate myself for not thinking this through. Of course, Rupert would offer Nathan’s brother the opportunity to watch the concert with their manager, Simon Brown. Of course, Nathan would reaffirm his dislike of country music. Of course, that’d leave us both on a small Chesterfield in a remote corner of the giant tent, hidden by huge plants that I can’t name.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Keeping a fair amount of distance between us, Mr. Price’s delectable body is lodged in the corner of the couch.
I cross my arms and legs for good measure and assess the situation. Hopefully, he can read my body language. He couldn’t be seated further away from me, giving me an ideal view of his flawless physique. He sends fleeting glances my way but doesn’t speak. I refrain from sighing too loudly, swallowing too hard, or lusting too visibly when I notice that his fitted tee-shirt is so strained that it showcases his mouthwatering V-shape. Warmth creeps into my cheeks within my next breath. Lovely! Now I match the color of my dress. Wedged in the opposite corner, I scratch my neck and clear my throat.
His fingertips trace aimless figures on the leather arm, drawing my attention. I’d already noticed them at the dojo. How he treats them almost reverently, which is odd for a guy. Maybe he hates country music because he’s a concert pianist?
“Why would you say that?” I eventually ask to shake out of my trance.
“Well, it’s hard to hide your annoyance with those expressive eyes and rosy cheeks. Both when you first saw me today and right now.” He pauses, his eyes downcast. In a lower, panty-melting tone, he adds, “Looks like I’ve been doing a shitty job where you’re concerned.” Without another word, he gets up and comes back with two glasses of water. He hands me one, shrugs, and drinks his bottoms up. After placing his empty glass on the wooden coffee table, his onyx gaze remains on me, in a somewhat non-predatory way, but I know better. “I was thirsty, and it would have been rude to not bring you one.”
“Thank you. It’s both sweet and aggravating. You left without saying a word, came back with a drink I didn’t ask for, and decided on the order.” I shake my head to process what he just did. “You know I won’t drink it, right?” Although my throat is parched, I deposit my full glass on the coffee table and challenge him.
Towering over me, a crease forms between his eyebrows. “What’s your problem?” His seductive tone turned defensive at the drop of a hat. “I can get you something else if you want.”
“I don’t have aproblem, Nathan. And for the record, Ihatethat word. Like I said, thank you for your thoughtfulness, but I’m a big girl. I can go get my own drink if I want one.”
“Wow, wow, wow!” He crosses his arms over his chest and shoots me a mean glare. “Back off, will you? Why are you busting my balls over a glass of water? You’re blowing this way out of proportion!” He rubs his thumb and index finger on his stubbled chin. For once, my irritation overrules my attraction. “Wait, do you think I spiked your drink?”
My heart skips a beat as my body goes rigid. There’s no way I’ll ever admit that. “What? No!” I manage to stammer. I’m sure he doesn’t miss the loud swallow that ensues.
In the blink of an eye, his gaze softens and he sighs. “I’d never do anything like that. I always play fair.” With that, he rounds the coffee table and sits back down, a bit closer than before.
The weight on my shoulders becomes more painful with every breath. Still, I unabashedly inhale his essence. A perfect blend of assertiveness, cologne, and sex appeal. To deflect the focus of the conversation away from my knee-jerk reaction, I ask, “Are you sure you don’t go out of your way to make me uncomfortable?”
“What do you think?”
Two can play this game. I pinch the bridge of my noise before meeting his enigmatic stare. “I think I asked you first.”
“Before you freaked out…” My neck stiffens at his words. I school my features to hide my discomfort. Being called out on my own triggers bothers me to no end. “You said I was sweet.”
I hesitate, then breathe deeply. “Well, Mr. Price, I’m sorry to inform you that you’re not a great listener. You should have paid more attention. I was referring to your behavior, not you.”
“You’re absolutely right. I’m not famous for my listening skills. I have other… talents.” His flirtatious attempt to lighten the mood only adds to my stress. “But I’m willing to improve... if you ask me nicely.”
Once again, his mundane yet teasing words hurtle me back to a past that I’m not eager to revisit… when one particular man had that kind of power over me.
I wrap my braid around my finger, which helps me think. “From what I’ve witnessed so far, you think the world revolves around you.” It’s barely a whisper, but my nerves skyrocket from having spoken my mind so freely. What’s gotten into me? What does it matter? Why does this smug individual unsettle me so much? My cheeks flame and my shoulders stiffen at the thought. And to think that I believed that I’d mastered concealing my emotions. He couldn’t have heard me over the music, but that’s insignificant because he can see right through me. How?
“I’m known to be an arrogant prick. That’s part of my brand.” A bitter laugh leaves his sinful mouth, contradicting his matter-of-fact tone. Damn, he’s something else! “Like I said, I have other talents.” He winks playfully, and I scold myself when my face flushes at his innuendos.
Nathan is such a paradox. Considerate yet narcissistic. Modest yet vain. Melancholic yet pompous. Yeah, the sorrow in his eyes definitely piqued my interest at the dojo. I hadn’t grasped it back then, but it mirrors the skeletons in my closet. Skeletons that have been buried with Rupert’s, our way of coping with our excess baggage and appeasing our demons. Nothing can tear us apart.
As enticing as the idea is, I can’t contemplate the possibility of anus, especially not for a brief fling. Risking my relationship with Rupert isn’t worth it.
Just look at him, Sally! He’s trouble with a capital T.
