Page 88 of Hard Rock Muse
“Cerise!” I called out.
She looked over, scanning the crowd, but my voice was lost amongst a dozen others calling her name. I leaned over and waved my arm.
Her eyes landed on me briefly and moved on. Then she did a double take.
“Everly?” she called out.
I nodded.
She waved me over frantically. I left the line and went up to where they were standing in front of a red velvet rope with a VIP sign on it.
“Hey,” she said in greeting. “What’s with the hair?”
“I felt like a change.”
“It looks awesome on you,” she said.
“What are you doing standing in line?” Liam asked. “We’ve got a VIP booth.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Seth didn’t tell me that part, the jerk.”
“Come on, let’s find the others,” she said as she hooked her arm around mine.
The bouncer let the three of us in without a second look. We didn’t have to push through the crowds, because the entrance had a private staircase which lead to the second floor, where a handful of rooms were partitioned off. They all had glass walls so you could see out onto the dance floor below.
“Fancy,” I noted. “So this is how rock stars live.”
I could see the other members of Cherry Lips, along with a few others, were already in one of the rooms, Julian and Seth included.
I smoothed down my hair nervously and stepped in.
Julian turned his head. His eyes went wide. His lips parted, jaw almost dropping. Then his eyes narrowed with heat as he slowly dragged his gaze up and down, from my hot pink hair to the exposed tops of my thighs.
He got up from his seat on a leather armchair and stalked over, his movements swift and deliberate. I felt like a mouse being stalked by a cat. But I had no desire to run away.
He came up to me and put his hands on my hips, leaning down to whisper into my ear.
“Are you trying to kill me, Ev?” he murmured.
“You remember this dress?” I said coyly.
“I do,” he said. “I remember tearing it off you.”
“Something to look forward to later tonight,” I said.
His eyes dropped to my lips. His pupils dilated. I knew he was thinking of kissing me.
Instead, he pulled back and brushed a hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear.
“I like your hair,” he said.
“I’m surprised you even noticed,” I teased. “Aren’t guys supposed to be oblivious when a girl changes her hairstyle?”
“Not when it’s this drastic.” He gazed at me fondly. “You look good, Ev. You look more like you.”
“I didn’t know pink hair was so essential to my personality.”
“It’s not just the hair,” he said. “Or the dress. You seem more confident, somehow. Like you’re standing taller. I don’t know what is it. You remind me of that cool girl I first saw behind the counter at the music store.”
