by Leila Lucas
The guys are all mid-argument over who owes who money for a stupid bet. They all sit their asses on a chair, so I guess that leaves me to order the drinks.
“Dylan!” Patsy comes to the counter. This was the first place we frequented when we moved here. She had only just opened it a week prior to us moving, but the place was already busy. Once we tried the coffee and the insanely amazing pastries, we never went elsewhere.
“How are you, darlin’? What can I get you boys?” She smiles.
“Just been recording some tracks today. We all need a caffeine fix.” I order our usual coffees while Patsy packs us some freshly made bagels.
As I wait on the side of the counter I see her sitting in the same corner she was at a few days ago. Mountain of brown hair on top of her head in a bun, with loose bits framing her pretty face. You can always spot a college student from the West Coast because they’re always wrapped in layers like they’re going on a skiing trip. And this girl, once again, is bundled up like someone forced her to wear all her clothes at once.
It feels like déjà vu because she’s looking down at my shoes and her gaze is slowly coming up. I watch her spend a little extra time staring at my tattoo sleeve, which is fully visible in a T-shirt. Then our eyes meet. I can see the same horror in her face when she realizes I’ve been watching her.
Again.
I smirk and she gives me a quick smile before going back to typing on her laptop. Giving me a once-over the first time may have been curiosity, but the second time couldn’t have been for no reason, and heck if I’m not going to take advantage of a cute girl like that looking at me.
I need an excuse to talk to her, so I grab our band’s flyer that Patsy has on the counter and walk over to her. She looks up at me and I notice how big her hazel eyes are underneath her glasses. She doesn’t seem to be wearing any makeup and she has a slight crease on her cheek from leaning it on her hand.
I wish I were smooth enough to bring her a coffee or something, but I show up with a self-promotional flyer. Nice.
“Our band is performing on Saturday at this bar just across the road.” I point out the window at a small red brick building and her gaze slowly follows. “If you’re not too busy, come?” I put the flyer on the table and she quickly scans it.
She takes her gaze away from the flyer for a quick second and glances at me with a smile. “Ummm, sure.”
I sensed an accent but couldn’t put my finger on what it was. I was hoping she’d say more, but she appears to be swamped with work, so I let her get back to it.
“Awesome. Hopefully I’ll see you then.” I walk back to the counter to get our order and return to the guys sitting near the door.
“Did you just try picking up the chick from a café?” Jackson asks when I hand him the bagels.
“With a flyer!” Ben adds, laughing.
“I was just inviting her to the show on Saturday. Since you guys are doing shit all to advertise the gig,” I say to get them to argue and drop the conversation before she hears them mocking me.
“Then why didn’t you hand the flyer to the two middle-aged women at the front?” Ben pesters. “Or the guy reading the newspaper or th—”
“Shut up, man, was just being polite, that’s all.”
“Awwwwwwww.” Ben coos. “Dylan has a girllllllfrienddddd.”
“Dude how old are you?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Yeah, I know, dickwad.” I hit him across the head.
“Then why’d you ask?”
* * *
Music history class first thing in the morning is not ideal for anyone who hasn’t had caffeine beforehand, but I was running late as it is and Professor Condescending-Ass—not his real name—has it in for me already as it is. This is my least favorite class, but it’s a requirement. I do try keeping my eyes open, but sometimes it doesn’t work and my head ends up on top of my pile of books. Condescending-Ass thinks extremely highly of himself, so when you don’t pay attention he will stand there and lecture you on how privileged you are to be in his class. I managed to sneak into a seat unnoticed while he had his back to the classroom. Win!
I spend the two hours rotating between writing notes and writing some new tracks for the band. I carry my notebook to every class and write whatever pops into my head. I don’t even know how many songs are on here, but I told Ben that if we ever make it big, the whole album is written and ready to go.
“Hey, you!” I hear a woman’s voice behind me as I exit the lecture room.
I turn around and come face-to-face with Jenna, the only serious girlfriend I’ve ever had. We were inseparable during our first year at college until she slept with one of my best friends, amongst other guys. But I got over her a long time ago and since we have a lot of mutual friends it’s easier to forgive than cause a scene whenever we’re in the same room together. And as for him? The role of best friend has been replaced.
“Hey yourself.”
“So it’s my birthday in two weeks…”
“No, sorry.” I interrupt her.
“Come on, please.” She whines. “You guys have your own apartment. I can’t throw a party in the dorm.” She tries giving me a puppy dog face. The sad face may have worked when we dated. Now, not so much.
This is the only downside to sharing an apartment with your friends rather than staying in the dorms. Everyone wants you to throw a party, either for them or for yourself. When I’m not in class or working I’m with the band. We play almost every weekend, so we couldn’t throw parties even if we wanted to. And I may have forgiven Jenna, but it doesn’t mean I’m up for doing her any favors.
“Hello, Jennifer.” Ben comes up behind her with Chester following closely behind.
“You know that’s not my name. I dated your brother for a year.”
“You did? When?” Ben says with a fake surprised look on his face. “Ah, yes. That time you screwed everyone on campus while you were with him. Fond memories.” Ben clearly isn’t the forgiving type.
“Sorry, Jen.” I shrug and walk toward the guys who are meant to be waiting for me in the car but instead are walking around trying to hit on girls.
“I’m buying all the alcohol. I’ll have the place spotless by the time you wake up. I’ll do everything. I just need the space. You can invite whoever you want,” she pleads.
Two words that will make any guy on campus push any common sense out of their brain.
Free alcohol.
“We can take a break one weekend.” Chester shrugs.
“True.” Ben nods. “But it’s Jenna.”
“Cool. Just talk about me like I’m not here.” She glares at Ben. He continues to ignore her.
“We’ll basically be having our own party but everything will be paid for and cleaned,” Chester says to nobody in particular.
I’m not going to win this argument. Ben is being considerate of my feelings, but I can tell he’s hoping I say yes, and honestly we could do with a bit of fun one weekend.
I turn to Jenna, who is still standing there looking hopeful. “Okay, fine, but nobody in the bedrooms and the house clean by noon. Got it?”
“Yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.” She runs to hug me and then blows kisses to Ben and Chester before running off.
“You two owe me.” I point my finger at them.
Chapter Three
CHLOE
“I think I’ve seen these guys at one of the bars before,” Vikki yells out from her bedroom. As soon as I showed her the flyer she Googled them to see if they’re any good. “Are they single?”
“How am I meant to know that?” I yell back.
“I don’t know, maybe he told you.” She comes into the bathroom and starts straightening her short blond hair.
“He didn’t even tell me his name. I only know it because I heard the café owner say it.”
“Oooh, mysterious. I like it.”
“Who knows, he could be a huge jerk. Or he could have a girlfriend, wife, kids…” I
drift off.
I look in the mirror to apply mascara and Vikki is staring back at me with a scornful look on her face.
“What?”
“You’re such a pessimist.”
“There’s gotta be something wrong with him.”
“You literally write love stories like this and now it’s happening to you and you’re not here in the moment to see it. He could be your soul mate. Me being here of all places, you moving in with me, he walking into the one café where you choose to work. It’s all so romantic,” she gushes.
I leave her with her head in the clouds and go back to my bedroom to find something to wear tonight. I’m not sure what the dress code is for these things, but I play it safe with a jacket, red tank top underneath, black jeans, and boots. I quickly brush my hair because I’m too lazy to do anything special to it.
“You need a little something.” Viki points to my chest.
“A boob job?”
“No.” She laughs. “A necklace.”
Once I’m all accessorized and our clutches packed with the essentials, I.D. and lipstick, we head out.
* * *
The Red Bar doesn’t look like much from the outside, but the inside is a lot nicer than I had expected. It’s divided into two sections, a table seating on one side, bar and stage on the other. Everything looks brand-new and modern yet has a nice rustic feel to it.
“Which one is yours?” Vikki asks, eyeing the guys on the stage.
“Technically none, but the one on the right holding the guitar is the one I spoke to.” We take a seat at the corner of the bar and order our first drinks.
“Nice, the front man and the other guitarist are both in the running for me.” She grins.
“Welcome, everyone! I’m Ben, these are our guitarists Dylan and Jackson, and Chester on the drums. And we are Astor Blue.”
Dylan. Even his name is sexy.
“Okay, and the drummer too,” she adds.
The music starts and the crowd quietens down, all facing the stage.
For the next twenty minutes they rotate between upbeat and smooth songs, both of which seem to be really popular with the crowd. The entire time I couldn’t keep my eyes off Dylan. There’s something so effortlessly cool about him. Maybe it’s his perfect amount of sexy stubble or his hair that looks like it hasn’t been touched since he woke up yet looks somewhat styled. His laid back style continues onto his outfit with his basic black tee, dark jeans, and Converses. I also couldn’t help but notice that every time he happened to look at me my face would heat up. I just hope my makeup is doing a good job at concealing the redness.
“We’re going to take a small break before we do two more songs for you all, so have a conversation with your friends about how amazing we are.” Ben winks and waves at the crowd.
My gaze goes back to Dylan who, as if on cue, lifts his head up and smiles at me. He puts his hand up and waves.
Shit. I don’t know if he’s waving at me. Everyone knows the most mortifying thing in the world is waving back to someone who wasn’t waving at you. I do a quick side-eye glance to make sure he wasn’t directing it at anyone else, but nobody’s paying attention to the stage aside from me. I half lift my arm and do a quick wave with my fingers. Okay, good, small subtle wave so even if it wasn’t for me it won’t be too obvious.
A few girls from the front row run to the band’s table before they even get there, dragging extra chairs with them.
“Looks like we have competition.” I turn to Vikki.
“Eh, depends what they’re into.” She shrugs. “Silicone bimbos who have to draw on their eyebrows or girls with Australian accents and real body parts.” She squeezes her boobs. I look at the table and the lead singer, Ben, is staring wide-eyed at us.
“I think you just gave him a boner.” I laugh.
Vikki spins in her bar stool to face him directly, winks, and turns back around. A huge grin appears on his face. He looks totally mesmerized.
“I wish I had your flirting talent and confidence.” I sigh.
“I’ll teach you my ways one day, grasshopper,” she says with what sounds like a French accent.
“I don’t think that’s the saying nor the right accent, grasshopper,” I mimic her accent.
“Here are your drinks, ladies.” The bartender puts them in front of us and rushes off to serve the other customers. Judging by everyone’s drink of choice, I’m the only one not drinking alcohol tonight. I’ve been to my fair share of parties in school and college but seeing how hungover my roommates would be every Sunday morning, reassured me that I don’t ever want to drink.
“Do you want to go say hi?” Vikki turns to me.
“No! Definitely not.”
“Why? He invited you. He wanted to see you here.”
“He probably invited them too.” I tilt my head toward their table. The girls are all giggling at everything the guys say. Either they’re insanely hilarious or the girls are trying to make sure everyone can see them at the band’s table. We watch the girls pout when Dylan tells them they have to go back on the stage, but they are sure to make a quick run for it in their towering heels to be at the very front. I’m not going to lie, I would run to be at the front of the stage too if I didn’t have any shame.
“My brother Dylan will take the lead on this, so I’ll just scoot over. Enjoy.” The guys switch places and Dylan adjusts the microphone stand. For a moment he looks up directly at me, smiles, and then starts to strum his guitar.
“He totally wants you.” Vikki nudges my shoulder.
“You got that from just a smile?”
“You have so much to learn about the male species, grasshopper.”
The second Dylan starts singing the entire place goes so quiet you could hear a pin drop. His slight Southern accent becomes more prominent when he’s singing and it makes him that much more attractive. I’ve never had a thing for musicians before, but for the first time in my life I can say I’m totally turned on by a fully clothed guy who is standing ten feet away from me.
“Here.” Vikki passes me a napkin. “Wipe the drool off your face.”
Chapter Four
CHLOE
“You’re not from around here, are you?”
I lift my head up from my laptop and see Dylan standing across the table.
“Is it really that obvious?” I cringe.
“The multitude of layers you’re wearing and the blanket you usually have with you give you away. And, well, now that I hear your accent properly I definitely know you’re not from around here.” He smiles.
“I just moved from California, but I’m originally from Australia,” I respond quickly.
“Well, that explains everything. I’m sure you’re used to the sun shinin’ every day.” He laughs. And of course his laugh is sexy too, along with his sexy face, sexy hair, and his sexy body from what I can tell. So much sexy in my presence is making me damn nervous.
“I’m Dylan, nice to meet you.”
I awkwardly shake his hand while not taking my eyes off him.
“I’m Chloe.” Now I have no idea what to do. Do I tell him to sit down? Say bye? And he either has no idea what to do next either or he’s waiting for an invitation to sit down. He wouldn’t be introducing himself if he didn’t want to talk, right? Oh my God, what do I do?
“Ummm… have you had lunch yet?” I blurt out.
It’s not even lunch time, you socially awkward idiot.
“I don’t know how lunch works in Australia, but we normally don’t eat lunch in Nashville at ten in the morning.” he says before I have the chance to correct myself. I just cover my face because I don’t know what else to do.
“Sorry, pretty sleep deprived.” I’m not much of a night owl, so not coming home until late last night is taking its toll on my brain cells.
“Considering you were at our show last night, I take full responsibility for your sleep deprivation. How about breakfast? I’m just about to order something.” He points to the counter.
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“Sounds good, I’m starving.”
He doesn’t need to know that I ate breakfast an hour ago.
I start to get up.
“Sit.” He gently pushes my shoulder down. “I’ll order. Eggs and bacon sound good?”
“Yes.” I take out my purse to give him money, but he just shakes his head.
“Consider it a thank you for coming to watch us play last night.” He walks off and orders our breakfast. I may or may not have had a quick glance at his behind. I can report that it’s equally as impressive as the rest of him.
“You don’t need to thank me for coming. We had fun,” I say as he takes a seat on the chair right across me. I take my glasses off, close my laptop, and give him my full attention.
“So you liked the music?”
“Ehhh, you guys were okay.” I smile.
“Oh, she’s funny.” He laughs.
“No, but really, you both sound great. Why don’t you sing more? You have an amazing voice.”
“The band is my brother’s thing. I have just always been more interested in the guitar and the writing. He has a crazy voice but can’t write to save his life and I can, so I wrote a few songs for them and ended up joining as a guitarist. We kind of grew up playing in the garage and all that.” He plays around with the salt and pepper shakers.
“So you don’t want to be in a huge band?” I ask.
