Page 41 of Hard Rock Love
“There’s always so many people around,” I said. “I always feel like I’m bumping into everyone.”
“The crowds can get pretty big after a huge lecture hall gets out,” Seth agreed. “But it’s nothing compared to being in the middle of a mosh pit or something.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Wait,” Seth said. “You’ve never been in the middle of a mosh pit before?”
“It’s not really my thing,” I shrugged. “I haven’t been to many concerts, and they were seated.”
“Oh man, you are so missing out,” Seth said. “Being in the middle of a crowd right in front of the stage at a concert is the second-best feeling in the world.”
“And the best is being on that stage yourself?” I guessed.
“You got it,” he said. “That’s why I really hope they choose us to headline that festival. It would be such an ego boost to have all those people waiting for hours just to see us. The roar of that adoring crowd, hearing your name being chanted by a thousand voices, the shrieks and shouts of the audience begging for more…” Seth closed his eyes, tipped his head back and let out a sound of pleasure in the back of his throat, low and growly.
That sound made me think of other reasons he might make that noise. More carnal reasons. I hastily reached for my bottle of water to twist the cap and take a sip, distracting myself from those thoughts before my cheeks turned red again.
Seth peeked his eyes open.
“So what’s your thing?” he asked.
“My thing?” I repeated.
“The thing you think is the best in the word. The thing that makes you roll your eyes back and sayMmm.”
He made that sound again. My stomach clenched.
“And you can’t say sex, because that’s the easy answer,” he continued.
My grip tightened on my water bottle, sending water gushing out of the opening and spilling over my hand, landing on Seth’s jeans and the dusty gazebo floor, leaving small puddles. I loosened my grip.
“I’m sorry,” I said, flustered and fumbling for a tissue in my bag.
“No worries,” Seth said, eyeing me carefully.
I dabbed at my hand to dry it, then crumped the damp tissue into a ball. I screwed the cap back on the bottle of water to prevent any more mishaps.
“It’s just a little water,” he said. “I’ve sprayed people with a lot more water than that.”
“I’m sure those times were intentional.”
He gave me a wicked grin.
“Didn’t you ever play with those Super Soakers growing up?” he asked.
“Those toy hoses that shoot out water like a gun?” I asked. “I remember seeing some other kids playing with them. Is that what you played with as a kid? One of those little toy water guns?”
“Little toy?” Seth looked affronted. “I’ll have you know my Super Soaker collection was the stuff of legends. I had this one amazing piece with extra water containers strapped to my back like a jet pack. All the other kids ran out of ammunition way before I ever did.”
“And by ammunition you mean water?”
“Usually it was water.”
“Do I even want to know what else you put in your Super Soaker?”
“Let’s just say, Julian learned early on that red food coloring is a bitch to get out of fabric.”
“You’re the worst,” I told him.
