Page 81 of I Need You Tonight
A squeal of excitement rushed from the women as they bounced up and down, hugging each other.
Mason’s hand tightened on mine. “I need to get some air.” He let go of my hand and stalked through the casino to the main hotel entrance. Seeing him leave, the guys pulled away from their fans and we followed him.
It didn’t take us long to find him outside. He was leaning against the gray cinder-block wall, looking photo-shoot ready. His head was turned slightly away from us, as if he was staring toward the road, his left knee bent and the sole of his left foot flat against the wall.
I walked to him and touched his arm. He startled, dropping his foot away from the wall. The pain in his eyes sucked the breath out of me.
“Are you sure you want to go out tonight?” I asked.
He gave me another smile, but this time the smile was painted on and I could feel a wall going up between us. I just wasn’t sure what to do about it.
“Positive.” He didn’t wait for me to respond. He strode over to join the guys, leaving me by the wall, perplexed at his odd behavior.
Jared hailed a cab and we piled inside. Mason didn’t hold my hand this time, and stared out the window the entire trip. I was sandwiched between him and Nolan, and could feel the lead singer glance at him every few minutes.
The line outside the nightclub stretched halfway down the block. But the advantage of being a rock star and having a number one hit on the charts meant the guys got to skip the wait. And because I was with them, I got to appreciate the benefits that came with their newfound fame.
Inside, the club was no different from the ones I’d gone to in college, with the strobe lights and loud dance music adding to the party atmosphere. We found a table at the far side of the room and ordered drinks from the waitress. While we waited for them, I grabbed Mason’s hand. “C’mon, let’s dance.” I stood up and tugged his arm, not giving him a chance to say no.
He peeled his butt off the chair and followed me. The dance floor was crowded, which was fine with me. It meant I could press my body against his as we moved.
We danced for a few songs—his hands all over my body, making it clear he was with me—before returning to our table. As we made our way back to where the rest of the band members were sitting, people stared at us. Some probably recognized him and were simply in shock at seeing him here. Others might’ve been debating if he was really Mason Dell or just someone who looked like him.
Several women watched us, clearly deliberating if they should ask Mason to dance. Even though I’d been touring with the band for more than nine weeks, no one had posted pictures on the Internet of me with them. And there were no rumors of Mason having a girlfriend. Which meant he was free to dance with other women, in theory.
A small Asian woman stepped in front of us, blocking the path to our table. She was pretty, her long black hair streaked with chunks of blue. “Hi,” she said. “You want to dance?”
At first I thought she was talking to Mason, because why wouldn’t she be? But then I realized she was looking at me, dark eyes gleaming with hope.
Mason wrapped his arm around my waist. “Sorry, she’s with me.”
The gleam in her eyes was extinguished, replaced with disappointment. “Oh, that’s too bad.” She turned and sauntered back into the crowd.
“Well, that’s a first for me,” I said, grinning at Mason. “If I never find Mr. Right, maybe there’s a Miss Right out there for me.”
But while I was kidding, something about Mason’s expression warned me he didn’t see it that way. There was no amusement in his eyes, no upward tug at the corners of his mouth.
Nothing more than hollowness stared back at me.
