“Their backs are basically porn. Why I took the pictures in the first place.”
Lindsey cocked a brow. “Now you’re talking. Which ‘their’ are you referring to?”
“Noah. And um, Oz.”
Jamie rolled her eyes. “Trust me, we’ve seen all of Oz enough times to be able to do a police sketch of his junk. He’s inordinately proud of it.”
“As he should be,” I muttered, my skin flushing straight down to my waist. Or at least that was how it felt.
Obviously, I’d had enough to drink already. My tolerance seriously sucked now. That was the only explanation for why I’d mentioned those pictures. Then again, I’d tried the same thing as a kid on the playground, only I’d used Twizzlers to make friends instead of flashing exposed male muscles.
I shrugged and pulled out my phone. Whatever worked, I supposed.
It took me a second to scroll to the right pictures. I took a lot of photos in a normal week—how a shaft of light shone across a hardwood floor, a flower tilting toward the sun, the pattern of raindrops on a windowpane.
Then there were the concert shots. I had a ton of those too since I’d started working for Ripper Records.
But this week, I’d only taken a few. Looking for beauty in dark places only worked when you had enough strength left to see it. For the last little while, all I’d been able to see was gloom.
The sole shot I’d taken at the fan club show of Oz snagged my attention. He was singing with Jamie, his voice so deep and strong, their foreheads tipped together, their smiles so natural. They were clearly tight.
I was happy he had his band with him. He needed people more than he realized, even when he was trying to pretend he didn’t need anyone.
Jamie leaned over and grinned. “Hey, we look pretty cute. Guessing you didn’t take that one because of me.”
“I was so glad he sang. He needs to. His voice is amazing.”
Had he taken to heart what I’d said at the cabin about him singing more again? Maybe. Maybe I wasn’t just a video vixen to him. Maybe my thoughts held some sway.
Jamie tipped her head against mine instead of Oz’s. “Doesn’t sound like you’re over him.”
“More like she wishes she was still under him.” Teagan popped an olive in her mouth. “Sorry, he’s still an asshole. But you know, needs.”
Did I ever.
Landing on a picture of Oz and Noah mid-pull up took my breath away, and not because of Noah. The tattoo on Noah’s back of a large hawk with its wings extended made me take another look. Somehow I’d scarcely noticed his ink the other day.
I’d had other preoccupations.
Oz’s body might not mean much to Jamie—and I had to say, my jealous soul appreciated that—but to me, he was the most beautiful creature who’d ever lived. Miles of golden skin wrapped over bone and sinew and fear and loss disguised as fury. As tall as he was, he was still graceful, moving with the elegance of a panther. And mercy, his gorgeous hair framed a face carved by angels, sent to earth to torment women who weren’t so innocent anymore.
Before I allowed myself to wallow, I slid my phone toward Teagan first. She snatched it, ignoring Elle’s grabby hands.
“Ugh, see, he’s so hot. When he carried me out of Elle’s engagement party, I would’ve sworn there were sparks.”
“You sure that wasn’t from the head rush? Didn’t you pass out?” Mal asked drily as Elle elbowed him in the belly.
“It was an emotional night. My best friend since birth, getting married. And to you!”
Elle exchanged a look with her husband. “We weren’t actually friends since birth, Teag. Just since school.”
“I’m just saying, it was a very emotional day.”
“Right, that’s why you were flashing all your assets at Noah. Because of your deep emotion at our wedding.” Mal smirked. “Nice try.”
Teagan flipped Mal the bird and kept scrolling, making noises that verged on the infamous scene in When Harry Met Sally. “God, I’d ride him bareback. I’d ride him so hard I’d break his spine. Look at his abs. Look at his ass.”
I jabbed Teagan in the side as a familiar cluster of males approached. Too familiar. Cooper was in front, his jaw as immovable as granite, but Noah was right behind.