Page 92 of Second Sets Omnibus
“I have one!” Leon shouts, grabbing his crotch. Leon ducks his head when I try to swing on him again and cackles when I miss. “Now, Miss Manager! I’ll go back to the kitchen. No need to resort to violence.” A large grin takes over when I narrow my eyes at him.
“Oh, I’ll resort to violence, dickhead. Back to work!” I bark out my demand, sending him a wink in return.
Once Leon disappears into the kitchen with a playful grin, I turn back to the men of the hour.
“You have it so damn bad,” Ode remarks, leaning against the bar.
“Don’t you have work, too?” I grumble when she bursts out laughing, shoving me to the side.
“Nah, bitch. I’m friends with the manager. Didn’t you know? She needs my moral support right now,” she says with a grin, leaning closer. “How fast are you falling?” Her eyebrows wiggle out of control until I flick them, and she laughs again.
“It’s bad, Ode,” I groan, rubbing my forehead. “How can this happen again? And not just one… fuck.”
“Oh my god, you love all of them? Even the dickhead on guitar?” she says, pointing directly at Asher, who raises a brow at her from the stage like he heard every word. With the chants of the raging crowd and whoops or excitement ringing through the place, there’s no way.
“Jesus. Didn’t your mama ever tell you it’s rude to point?” I gasp, pulling her arm down to her side.
“She did, multiple times. But I’m a rebel.” Ode grins more, if that’s even possible, and fully faces me. “All four of them, huh? Their dicks that good that they’re about to lock down my bestie who swore off love?”
“What can I say? I’m a fucking sucker for musicians. My heart…”
“And pussy,” she snickers, interrupting me.
“As I was saying. My heart just can’t stay away. I don’t know what it is. They’re protective, gentle, and they’re… fucking hot, and hell, dynamite in the sheets. And fuck. I’m so fucked, Odes. Pull me away from them,” I groan, covering my heated face, and the memories of our illicit moments run like a runaway train through my mind.
“Riv. Not everyone is Van. He was a dickless fuck who ran away like a puppy. But these guys? They took you to their neighborhood. Girl, you practically met their families. They’re not him and not embarrassed by you. Hell, they stalk you everywhere. If anyone is pathetic, it’s them,” Ode says, wrapping a supportive arm around my shoulders.
“But what if…”
“No fucking what ifs. Give it a chance and let yourself like them. Fuck them. Do whatever the hell you want to with them. I kinda like ‘em, babe. Plus, if they break your heart? I’ll hunt them down, and they’ll face the wrath of Ode Mills.” Her nose wrinkles when she gives a convincing nod.
My heart races in my chest at the prospect of letting all my reservations go. Everything Ode said is precisely what I am afraid of. What if they fucked me over? Shit. My head pounds with an oncoming headache from all my chaotic thoughts. I’ve given so much to them already.
“Don’t stress yourself too much,” Ode says into my ear over the sound of the first notes bleeding through the speakers.
“You don’t know me very well then,” I grumble back, looking at the sweaty boys jumping on stage.
Kieran’s sultry voice rasps through the microphone again, belting out a new song. I take out my phone, finding this the perfect moment to showcase their talents. Once Kieran hits the chorus, I jump onto the bar and press record. Kieran smiles at me from the stage, locking his eyes on the camera when the music ends.
“Thank you, Central City. You’re fucking great. If you didn’t know, we are Whispered Words. You can find us on ClockTok and FlashGram. Join us at whisperedwordsband,” he says through a smirk, winking at the camera, capturing them.
I give him the thumbs up when I jump down and immediately lean against the bar watching with admiration.
“They have you doing their bitch work now?” Ode asks, placing drinks on the bar for three patrons.
I snort. “I’m helping them film performances and shit. I told you they’re trying to apply to the Battle of the Bands.” I give her a pointed look when she raises a skeptical brow.
Speaking of, that’s something we’ll be doing this week. They only have two more weeks to submit their application before the website won’t take them anymore, and they want everything to be perfect—including their social media numbers.
Within a few clicks, I upload their video to ClockTok and watch the notifications from the thousands of followers pour in. I swear, a month ago, no one around the world knew who they were. Now they’re getting tens of thousands of likes and comments, begging for more covers and original songs. Oh, and nude photos. Crazy fangirls.
“Yeah, and they promised to take you…” she trails off with a pointed look in my direction.
I shrug. “Maybe they will. Maybe they won’t. Gotta film this one, too,” I say, quickly jumping on the bar again and away from my nosy BFF.
“You can’t avoid me forever, bitch,” she cackles, leaning over to take someone’s drink order.
“Yes, yes, I can,” I murmur, standing high above the crowd. Tonight, they stand shoulder to shoulder, squished together like sardines.
