His hot breath blew against my ear as he said, “If you think I’m getting up there, you are freaking nuts.” I giggled like a teenager as the poor guy on stage finally wrapped up his number and the audience applauded weakly. This was turning out to be fun.
“Jesus,” Jake said, handing out a round of drinks as he took a seat across from us. “What the hell was that?”
All the women seemed to be laughing and the guys looked like they’d just been inappropriately frisked by the TSA.
“Welcome to karaoke night!” Laney patted him on the shoulder.
“It’s almost your turn, Jake. We signed you up when you were getting our drinks. You and Mark are doing a duet,” Fiona said with a genuinely sweet-looking smile.
Jake narrowed his eyes at her. “I knew I should have brought Bailey for protection.”
“Where is she tonight?” I asked.
“She volunteered to babysit our son,” Laney responded for him. “She’s about a hundred months pregnant so she wasn’t up for the bar scene.”
I nodded in understanding as Ari took the mic up on stage. Her low-cut dress hugged her every curve and she put a hand to her hip. “Well, thank you, Ken, for that…heartfelt tribute. Tina is one lucky woman.” She couldn’t hold her sly smile in. “I have some special guests in the house tonight.” Ari gestured down to our table and I cringed. What the hell was she doing now? “My lovely assistant, Emerson, and her new friends.” She accentuated the last word just enough to give it some ambiguous extra meaning and continued, ignoring my exasperated head shake. “I’ll be getting them up here later if it’s the last thing I do. But, for now, let’s welcome Sharon and TJ to the stage!” She handed mics to a couple as they climbed onstage and then she came over to our table.
“Hi, guys. I’m so glad you could all make it.” She put a hand to her chest. “I’m Ari, the best friend. Hi, Gavin.” She winked, causing Laney and Fiona to look at Gavin and grin. Introductions were made and, as usual, Ari chatted effortlessly with everyone until it was time for her to get back to work. Everyone at the table talked and drank and seemed to be having fun.
But the entire time, all I could think about was the feeling of Gavin’s knee pressing against mine and the feeling in my gut telling me to just go for it.
Chapter Fourteen
Leave Your Dignity at the Door and Come on In
GAVIN
It would take a blind man to ignore all the meaningful looks coming my way from Laney, Fiona, and now Ari. Lord, it was like they’d never seen two humans of the opposite sex interact before. I was waiting for an Animal Planet style voiceover to start any minute. If I were ever going to make any progress, I had to get Emmy out of here.
“Wanna come with me to the bar? I’ll buy you another drink.” I leaned over so she could hear me above the screeching coming from the drunk college chicks on stage. She nodded and I stood, helping her by pulling her stool out in the cramped space. The bar had filled up in the time we’d been there. I gestured for her to go ahead and then made sure I delivered purposeful “back off” signals to the meddling twosome at our table before following Emmy to the bar.
My vantage point gave me a clear view of her outfit, if only from behind. She was back to conservative—a pale blue blouse and black pants that hugged her ass, her hair up in a styled ponytail—but it had the effect of being a complete turn-on by making me use my imagination. And I was doing a damn good job of it if I did say so myself.
“So, have we convinced you to become a regular at karaoke night?” Emmy asked playfully once we found a spot to stand at the bar.
“At this point, I’m considering taking on a third job just so I can pay Ari to quit this gig. How does she stand it?”
Emmy laughed. “She actually enjoys it, if you can believe it. I don’t come very often, and now I’m remembering why. I’m pretty sure you have to be drunk to really get the full effect.”
“Well then, let me buy you that drink, by all means.” I lifted an eyebrow at her.
“How do you do that?” she asked, raising her hand to my face and running her finger over my eyebrow. My dick twitched just from the light contact. Damn.
“Do what?”
A slow smile broke over her face. “Raise just one eyebrow.”
I narrowed my eyes at her and felt my lips tug.
She let her finger linger on my skin and proceeded to contort her face in a way that resembled a stroke victim attempting a wink. Both her eyebrows rose and fell as she strained in concentration to isolate each one.
“Please, don’t hurt yourself,” I pleaded.
She dropped her hand from my face and laughed at herself. “See. Can’t do it.”
I nodded, but all I saw was how fucking adorable she was.
I couldn’t help it so I leaned in for another quick kiss. The one I’d given her when we first arrived hadn’t been nearly enough and I was dying to kiss her properly. I pulled back, though, conscious that we were in a public place, and saw that her eyes were still closed. Then her lids slowly fluttered open and in that instant I was pretty sure I was a goner.
The bartender chose that moment to ask for our order and I requested another round of drinks for the table. I wouldn’t mind a bit if Emmy wanted to get her drink on and let me drive her home since I was on a two-beer limit. I knew that was wishful thinking, though—she’d certainly have made other arrangements already, as careful as she always tried to be. But I’d seen glimpses of what hid under her carefully-controlled exterior, and I was going to get her to loosen up eventually or die trying.
“Hey,” Emmy said, “I wanted to apologize for not responding to your texts after our date. That was rude.” She looked at me earnestly.
I shrugged. “I figured you were busy with work. You agreed to meet up tonight—that’s all that matters.”
She opened her mouth to respond and then seemed to think better of it. She just smiled at me again instead, and my chest got tight.
“Christ, you have a beautiful smile, Emerson Scott.”
She blushed and the freckles on her cheeks became more prominent.
“You also have the tendency to blush more than any girl I’ve ever met, I think.”
Her hands went to her cheeks and then she smacked my arm. “Talk about rude!” But she was still smiling.
The bartender set some drinks down in front of us, and Emmy took a sip of hers. “Your friends seem nice. Not that we can talk very easily with all the noise in here, but they’re obviously a lot of fun.”
I let my gaze flip back to the table where Fiona seemed to be making out with the back of her own hand. Christ on a cracker. What was she drinking tonight? I turned back to Emmy. “They’re certainly not boring, I’ll give them that.”
“Yeah, I did notice a bit of overzealous enthusiasm regarding our…friendship. But, then, you’ve met Ari so it’s really just par for the course.”
Ha. Friendship, my ass. I let it go for the time being.
I shook my head. “Now that you mention it, I’m kind of wondering why the women were invited in the first place.”
“I figured you needed back-up in case I stood you up or something.” She played with the straw in her drink and gave me a sly look.
“No way. You’d never do that. I’m too irresistible.”
She rolled her eyes, making her seem really young. It was cute as hell and I was happy to see her back to the same place of comfort we’d found at dinner.
We continued to chat and I had all but forgotten about our friends until Mark wandered over and interrupted. “Yo, Junior, are you fermenting the liquor yourself? What’s taking so long?” He gave Emmy a grin and me a scowl.
“Just chatting with a pretty girl, so thanks for butting your giant head in.”
“The kid thinks he’s charming. Don’t fall for it, Emerson,” Mark told her in a conspiratorial tone, one of his big arms brushing against her and making my hackles rise.
I wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up, but I couldn’t se
e a way to do that and maintain the nice vibe we’d had going. I knew he was just fooling around and wasn’t aware of Emmy’s reservations regarding my age. I’d just have to suck it up.
Luckily, a distraction presented itself before Emmy could respond. Fiona was up on stage, mic in hand, singing her ever-loving face off to Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me.” Mark spun around just in time to see her shimmy down and run her hand all the way down her body to the hem of her short dress. I heard a growl and a mutter of something that sounded like, “I don’t fucking think so, Shortcake” before he took off for the stage.
Emmy clapped a hand over her mouth to hold in the laughter as Mark stepped directly from the bar floor onto the stage, skipping the steps entirely. Fiona had turned around and was shaking her ass at the crowd by that point, and she let out a loud squeak into the mic as she spun around right into Mark’s chest. He grabbed the mic from her and handed it to Ari who’d scuttled her ass on stage, then hiked Fiona up over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold. One of his big hands covered the bottom of her dress, hiding anything interesting, and he stomped right off the stage and directly to the back exit of the bar, Fiona smacking his ass and yelling at him the whole way. Hoots and cheers rung out throughout the bar and my sister and Jake looked like they were going to piss themselves they were laughing so hard. Nate pulled Laney to him and laughed into her hair as the back door of the bar slammed shut behind the departing couple, and Ari spoke into the mic.
“Well, it ain’t a party till someone gets their ass spanked!”
Emmy shook her head next to me, and I just took a long pull on my beer, feeling like the night was turning out to be pretty freaking awesome after all.
“Time to mix it up a bit before our next performer gets on stage. Hope you all enjoy!” said Ari before pushing a couple buttons and beginning to sing “Titanium,” effectively blowing the whole crowd away.
“Holy shit,” I heard myself say.
“I know,” was Emmy’s response.
I looked down at her and her eyes were glued to her friend, pride clearly glowing in her features.
When Ari finished the last notes, just about everyone in the bar stood and clapped, and she did a playful curtsey before calling the next singer up. I, for one, would never want to follow that act in a million years, even if I had lost my mind and agreed to participate in what was debatably one of the worst inventions of the last couple centuries.
We eventually made our way back to the table with everyone’s drinks, and Ari joined us on her break. Mark and Fiona had re-entered the bar, both looking freshly fucked if you asked me. Further proof being the very smug look on Mark’s face and the conspicuous red lipstick on his ear—not that I was going to say anything. Brett had also shown up and pulled a stool to our table. Unlike some people I could mention, he played it entirely cool with Emerson, and I bought him a beer in appreciation. As far as I could tell, Brett, Emmy, and I were by far the most mature people at the whole damn table. Mark was an overgrown animal, and the other two guys in their thirties were having a debate with Ari over which superhero movie franchise was the best. Yup, my plan to impress Emmy with my oh-so-mature friends had gone completely tits up.
Not that she seemed to notice at all. Her gorgeous smile lit her face almost the entire evening, and it was aimed at me more often than not. I even kept my hand on her knee, her arm, or her back throughout the night and she hadn’t slapped me or made a move to shake me off. I was considering the night a smashing success until it happened.
Fiona and Laney had just finished a cringe-worthy rendition of “Hold On” by Wilson Philips, with Ari and Emmy cheering them on the whole time. Ari retrieved the microphone to introduce the next participant. “Let’s welcome Nick to the stage. Nick, come on up!” A smattering of applause sounded and a tall guy with dark hair strode from the back of the bar and onto the stage, wobbling just a bit on the steps. It looked like we would be treated to another drunken guy who’d lost a bet. Except the look on Ari’s face went from smiling to surprised—even wary—once she caught sight of the guy’s face. She handed him the mic hesitantly and then slowly backed away to start his song.
When he turned around, I recognized him immediately. It was Ponch, Ari’s brother. What the fuck? I wondered momentarily why he hadn’t just joined us at the table since he’d obviously been at the bar for a while based on his state of shit-faced-ness. Before I could think further about it, the music started and he warbled the first few lines of some eighties song I vaguely recognized. I looked at Emmy but she was talking to Laney and hadn’t noticed Ponch. That was, until he got to the chorus of what I finally recognized as REO Speedwagon’s “Can’t Fight this Feeling” and yelled into the mic, “Emerson! I mean it, baby!” before continuing the god-awful singing about a friendship that’s grown into something more.
Fuck. Me.
Our entire table silenced at once and all eyes swung to the stage. Except mine. My attention was on Emmy. I needed to see her reaction to what was essentially a declaration of love from someone she’d known her entire life. Her jaw just about hit the table and her face went crimson in no time flat. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ari dash to her brother and a wrestling match over the microphone ensued. I didn’t see how it ended—I just heard the music cut off and Ari’s voice sounding over the speakers.
“Sorry about that folks! It seems my brother misplaced his dignity somewhere between the bar and the stage.” Undercurrents of anger threaded through her voice and I was suddenly a huge fan of Ari Amante.
Her brother, not so much.
The next day was Sunday and all I had on my schedule was some studying. The previous night’s activities had ended shortly after Ponch’s performance. Emmy and Ari had conferred by the stage for several minutes before Emmy returned to me and very apologetically explained that she was going with Ari to take Ponch’s drunk ass home. Well, she didn’t put it quite like that, but she wasn’t going home with me so that was the only important part. I had no idea what was going on, but she promised to text me in the morning. By mid-morning, there was still no word from her, and I wasn’t about to repeat the cycle of unreturned texts from the last time we’d been out.
Given my state of mind, I decided it was a good day for the batting cages. I had a little aggression to let out and some thinking I didn’t really want to do, and I knew the perfect person to take with me for distraction.
“That’s right,” I said. “Keep that right elbow up. Here it comes.”
Rocco swung with all the might of a scrawny six-year-old and missed by a mile, his helmet shifting to cover half his face in the process.
“Good try, buddy. Remember not to close your eyes this time.”
He nodded and readjusted the helmet over his mop of dark hair. The next pitch came in low and he caught a piece of it, the ball popping up and hitting the top of the cage before thudding to the ground. “Did you see that?!” he yelled excitedly.
“Absolutely. You’re gonna be hitting them out of the park in no time.” I paused the machine and pulled his helmet off. “You need a bigger head.”
“You need a smaller helmet,” he responded.
I grinned at him. “You want a drink? I think they’ve got lemonade in the machine.”
He gave me big eyes and a smile, which I took as a yes, and we walked over to the side of the main building, under an overhang where a couple vending machines stood. The Academy was dead quiet, as I’d known it would be. People would filter in as the day wore on, but Sunday morning was always quiet. While other folks went to breakfast and church, I much preferred taking in the silence while throwing pitches into a training screen or hitting the batting cages. Laney joked that it was my heathens’ church, and I couldn’t really argue with that.
Rocco and I settled with our butts on the concrete and our backs to the brick wall, sipping our drinks and looking out over the practice fields.
“I’ll tell you, Rocco, enjoy being a kid while you can. Don’t be in any hurry t
o grow up, you hear me?”
“Yeah, okay.” He licked the side of his bottle where a drop had escaped. “But I want to drive a semi-truck and I can’t do that until I’m an adult. Shouldn’t I at least want to grow up enough to get a license or something?”
I shrugged and looked down at him. “Well, sure. I see your point, and driving is fun. Just make sure you have a back-up plan in case the semi-driving gig doesn’t pan out.” It would be good if at least somebody learned from my mistakes.
“Oh, I already have one.” He nodded and took another sip of his lemonade. “I’m gonna be a rocket scientist or an astronaut. I haven’t decided yet. The truck driving is just for my free time.” He threw a hand out to the side as if this was all old hat to him.
I gave him an appraising look. “Good choice. I hear girls go crazy for astronauts. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.” I mean, really, astronauts were bad-ass.
But Rocco curled his lip. “I hope not. Girls like to hug all over you, and they always leave glitter everywhere. Maybe rocket scientist is the better way to go then.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “I don’t think you’ll mind the hugging. That is, if you do decide to get older.”
His head shook vigorously. “Nope. My mom can hug me—and Aunt Fiona cuz she smells good—oh, and Grandma and Gigi, but I’m pretty sure that’s enough.” Then a thought seemed to occur to him and he looked up at me with speculation and a bit of that lip curl again. “Wait. Do you like it when girls hug on you?”
I knocked him in the arm with my now-empty plastic bottle. “I hate to break it to you, but yeah, I kinda do.”
“But what about all the glitter?” He narrowed his eyes at me.
“Well, the girls I like don’t tend to leave a trail of glitter. Unless it’s a special occasion like a bachelor party or…never mind.” I stopped, suddenly remembering who I was talking to. “Actually, there’s a very non-glittery girl I like who I wish would hug on me. But I’m worried she might be hugging somebody else.”
The Game (Carolina Connections Book 4) Page 13
