Page 78 of Play the Last Track
“Why didn’t you tell me that night on the phone?”
“I-I don’t know.” I bite down on my lower lip, chewing for a moment. He slips his hand from my jeans and uses his thumb to tug my lip free. “I wasn’t ready. It was my safe space. It had been for a long time. Grant made me feel so casual about music, like I wasn’t any good. In college, for a while, I thought maybe I could do it professionally. Sing, write songs, something.”
“You still can.”
I shake my head a little. “It’s not my dream anymore.”
“Because of what Grant said?”
“No.” I stop myself. “Well, yes. But, not just him. I love the bar. I do. I was always good at music, all my teachers thought I had talent, but honestly, I love pouring pints for Doug and his friends all day. I love Roscoe, and I love trying to figure out if he’s actually from Russia or not.”
“Huh?”
“Oh, I have this theory that Roscoe used to be in the mafia and he’s lying low at a small sports bar in Boston because he’s being hunted.”
Flynn snorts. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see. When they find him, I’ll be the one to say I told you so,” I say, my heart feeling lighter with every word. I sigh. “I think if maybe I had never met Grant, I might have gone down a different path, but I did. And I can’t say I’m that disappointed.”
“So you’re not going to call the music executive guy?”
I lean back, meeting his eyes again. “No. I’m not going to call him.”
“Are you sure? This could change your life. You could be the next Taylor Swift.”
“No one will ever be the next Taylor Swift,” I say. “She’s an icon.”
“She really is,” Flynn says on a dreamy sigh. I smack his chest and he laughs. “You’re an icon too, don’t worry.”
“I think—” I take a deep breath, wanting to voice an idea that’s been forming since I started singing more and more. “I think I want to get a band, maybe on a Saturday night, and just sing at the bar once a week. We could host different themes, and during the summer, we could do afternoon sessions, maybe.”
Flynn lifts my chin with his finger, leaning down at the same time to press his lips to mine. When we break apart, he smiles at me. “That’s a great idea.”
“You think?”
“Hell yeah.” He kisses me again. “I’m going to be fucking the singer in a band.”
“As opposed to who? The owner of the bar?”
He groans, the hand that’s tucked into the waistband of my jeans dropping lower. “Fuck, that’s hot too.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Uh-huh. Your idiot.” Silence engulfs us, and blood pounds in my ears. I feel a lump form in my throat. This is the moment. If I am going to tell him how I feel, how I really feel, this would be the time to do it.
“Katie, I have feelings for you.”
“I—”
“And I know that all the stuff with Grant is still fresh. That you went through a lot with him, and four years is a long time to bein a relationship with the wrong person. But I think I’m the right person.”
I sit up, moving off his chest and turning around, facing him as I tuck my legs beneath me. “Flynn, I—”
“This isn’t fake. It was never fake. Not since the moment I saw you in that airport lounge and realized you were single. Not since I spent my entire summer trying to make you laugh just so I could hear the sound again. I have no idea what I did to piss you off after that night, but—”
“You gave your number to another girl,” I blurt out.
“What?” Flynn’s eyes snap to mine, and he sits up. “No, I didn’t.”
