“You want to grab something to eat later?” Matt rubbed a hand on his stomach over his shirt. “I didn’t eat earlier.”
Get out of my head, Matt! You don’t know my life!
“I don’t know. It’ll be pretty late.” I faked a yawn. For what reason, I wasn’t sure. It wasn’t even eight yet.
He gave me another side eye. Matt seemed to enjoy side-eyeing me. Or perhaps it was because I was purposely saying things that warranted a side eye.
Maybe this was a good chance to test him. “Maybe we can just pick something up for in the car on the way home?”
“Sure, if you want.” He kept his slow pace without missing a beat.
Well, just—fine, Matt!
If he’d been a neat freak I could’ve pointed out how much I hated to clean. But no, he had to be all blasé about ordering fast food in his hybrid Mercedes that probably cost more money than I’d made in the past four years.
I stared up at the sky as the concert hall came into view down the oak tree-lined street with older lampposts evenly spaced between them.
Matt laughed to himself.
“What?”
“You like the Spinderellas, right?”
I scoffed. “Don’t ask ridiculous questions like that.”
He stopped walking and loomed over me. “Well, stop trying to find a reason you shouldn’t be here with me and just enjoy the music.”
I folded my arms over my chest and lied through my teeth. “I’m not.” Guilt hammered my stomach again. What if we did become something more and I was already lying to him on the first date.
Matt stared at me like I was a pane of glass he could see right through.
“Fine. I will stop looking for your faults and I will enjoy the music. Happy?”
Matt smiled. “Thank you.”
His smile was so freaking addictive. He was one of those guys who could smile and you’d swear you could see a hint of their twelve-year-old boyish self. Fun. That was Matt. A fun guy.
I couldn’t help but grin back even though I fought it with any ounce of self-control I could muster. “You’re welcome.”
Once we’d made it the rest of the way up the block we stood out in front of Bizzell Dance Hall. Once upon a time it was a ballroom that hosted all types of Western swing music acts. In the seventies an investor came along and totally remodeled the whole thing into a music venue for all genres, yet kept a lot of the history intact.
I’d have been lying if I said it didn’t take my breath away each of the hundreds of times I’d been inside. I turned my gaze across the plain-looking warehouse’s exterior and up to the large steel block letters that read BIZZELL high above the double doors at the entrance.
“This place is pretty awesome, isn’t it?”
I shook myself out of my nostalgic thoughts and glanced over to Matt. He stared at the building the same way I imagined I probably looked when I basked in its musical glory.
You’d think it would’ve been the way he stared at me or the opening doors or the way he seemed to be able to read my mind that would’ve been the very things that would’ve unwound me. I quickly realized that the difficulty of this situation had just increased a thousandfold. This building was a part of my soul, and when I glanced over at Matt staring at it, I could tell it was part of his, too.
“Yeah.” I nodded and smiled at him. “It sure is.”
We started up the steps, and my feet grew heavier by the second. Outside was safe territory. I had control when we were outside. But you could lose yourself in a good concert. Through the two large doors lay uncertainty, especially when I’d be in there with Matt Stallworth.
Footsteps.
Loud ones, almost like a rumbling.
Oh shit!
I nearly fell down the set of steps that led up to the doors as two women about my age rammed into my shoulders and shoved past me to get to Matt. Saying they wore clothes was a debate in itself. Okay, maybe they had outfits on, but there was definitely minimal fabric.
“Oh my God! Oh my God!”
They both stood in front of Matt, shaking uncontrollably. I clenched my hands into fists at my sides.
“Excuse me.” My words came out more like a growl.
They both had bleach-blond hair and looked like they lived in a tanning bed. What made it worse was that they didn’t even acknowledge my presence or that I’d said anything. I was pretty sure they didn’t even know I existed.
After what seemed like an hour of shaking and gawking—that was probably no more than two seconds—one of them said, “Can we have your autograph?”
I could put up with a lot of different things, but rude wasn’t one of them. Not to mention everyone knew you played the shit cool when you met a celebrity. At least that was going to be my rule while Matt and I were dating.
For the night, Kelsey! You’re only dating until the date ends. Then the dating is finito! Done! Finished!
My jaw flexed as I readied myself to lay into the fangirl twinsies. I couldn’t tell if my anger was because they were rude or because they stole Matt’s attention from me, especially during a moment of musical appreciation between two purists. I’d have to save that debate for another time, even though I was pretty sure I knew the answer to it.
“Are you okay?” Matt sidestepped his way between the two girls to check on me.
I may or may not have glanced around him and relished in the two girls pouting while he tended to me. “I’m fine. You should sign for them or whatever.”
“Are you sure?”
My blood heated up, but I nodded. Maybe this could be Matt’s fault. Not being able to read my mind on this one because I really wanted him to turn around and tell them both to fuck right off.
He put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m only doing this because you said you’re okay with it, and because the club encourages us to keep up good relations with fans we encounter. But they’re going to apologize to you.”
He started to turn and I grabbed him by the arm.
Oh my God.
His T-shirt definitely showed off his arms well, but it failed to prepare me for the first time I actually grabbed one of them. Holy hell. He was a hundred percent solid muscle.
“Wait.”
He turned back to me and glanced to my hand on his arm. I wasn’t sure I knew how to let go of it. I wanted to just keep it and take it home with me, maybe. I couldn’t be sure because my brain still sputtered like a car about to run out of gas. Matt seemed to turn my brain to mush quite a bit.
“What’s up?”
“Don’t make them apologize. Just sign the stuff and let’s go, okay?”
He eyed me intently. “You sure?”
I folded my arms across my chest and nodded.
He turned around and I watched the girls bat their eyelashes and push their chests out at Matt. His eyes stayed locked on me the whole time and his hand was a blur. I was pretty sure he didn’t spell his name correctly, because he didn’t even look when he wrote. But then again, he probably had this happen everywhere he went.
Everywhere, Kelsey. This is what dating Matt Stallworth looks like on a day-to-day basis. This is why you do not get involved.
Finally, my brain had returned and was making sense again.
I kicked at a couple of rocks in front of the steps, trying to do anything to take my mind off two half-naked blonde girls fawning all over him before he made his way back to me.
“We good to go?” I didn’t mean for it to sound bitchy, but I worried it might have.
Matt’s eyes narrowed a little at my tone but then he smiled. “Yep.”
His hand pressed into the small of my back just as we passed through the doors, my favorite part of the Bizzell experience. His touch magnified the electricity coursing through my veins by a thousand. Jesus, his presence did things to me. Bass from the speakers pounded in my chest and thumped in my ears. Matt guided me through the crowd of people in the entryway.
We pushed past the will-call window and the ticket bo
oth.
“Don’t you need to grab the tickets?” I hollered, trying to raise my voice above the music.
“Huh?” He held his free hand to his ear.
One of the reasons I loved music so much was the fact that people usually didn’t talk when it was turned up loud. It was a fantastic thing, but at the moment it proved counterproductive.
Oh well. Matt seemed to know what he was doing so I just went with it. As we passed through the sea of faces all of them seemed to turn toward us. I started to pity Matt. I’d never really thought about it much, but I’m sure this was what every day looked like for him. Sure, it was pretty cool to be recognized every once in a while, but how did he do anything? How did he escape a shitty day? Did he have to just stay at home?
We worked our way to a security line and Matt took his hand off my back. I fought the urge to reach out and put it right back where it belonged, but I didn’t.
It was a good thing, too, because he walked around my side and grabbed me by the hand without missing a beat. He pulled me toward a security guy who was even taller than Matt and built about the same. The music pounded in my ears the closer we got to the main concert hall and my inhibitions faded fast. Between the sounds and the ambience of my favorite place on earth and Matt’s hand on mine, it was almost euphoric.
Christ, he’s going to get to me.
I glanced down at Matt’s hand wrapped around mine. That was the toughest part of all of this. He didn’t hold my hand like a boyfriend held his girlfriend’s hand. It wasn’t a friendly little hand-holding game. He held it like he was my protector among all of these people. And his grip said, “She’s with me. So back the fuck off.”
I didn’t need a protector and I damn sure didn’t need someone declaring I belonged to them, but Jesus, I never wanted him to let go of it, mainly because I did indeed feel protected and I most certainly felt like I was his.
It’s just biology, endorphins. You’re wired to feel this way, but you can’t act on it, Kelsey. Think about the big picture.
The worst part about it was that Matt wasn’t a dickhead or overbearing about it. He was a genuinely nice guy who was just in control. He had a way of being all manly without being a complete douchebag—a perfect blend of sweet, gentleman, and caveman all rolled into one. It was no wonder that chemicals were firing off left and right through my body, and my legs wanted to give out constantly.
“You can come through the back, you know!”
For the first time I actually made out someone’s words and it was the security guard hollering in Matt’s ear. Matt said something back and they both nodded and then we went through—bypassing the lines, ticket booth, and everything.
It seemed Matt Stallworth might just be good for things other than holding my hand perfectly and walking slower so I don’t have to run to keep up.
We went through a small corridor and through the open entrance. The opening band’s drummer was pounding a fast rhythm that told me their set was ending soon. Usually, I didn’t enjoy the set-up time between bands. I had to actually talk to people and they’d usually play shitty pop music in the background.
Okay, I didn’t hate all pop music, only ninety-nine percent of it. This time I didn’t mind it much, though.
You want to talk to him. You miss hearing his voice already. Don’t you, Kelsey?
Was this what good first dates were supposed to be like? I’d never been so scattered and all over the place in my life.
Fucking Ethan. Stupid Jenny. Damn them!
I glanced up and Matt was chuckling at me and then looked away really fast.
What the hell?
The drummer finally ended his wannabe John Bonham finale and wrapped up the set. The lights came back on and house music fired up at a much lower volume over the speakers.
“What were you laughing at?” I cocked out a hip like I had in the record store.
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Matt grinned.
“Don’t be a pussy, Stallworth. Go on and say what you have to say.” I showed him a hint of a smile so he’d know I was halfway giving him shit.
Growing up with Brian Jackson—Jenny’s dad—as a second father meant Jenny and I tended to curse like sailors and shit-talk with the boys when needed.
“Fine, it was because you were having a conversation with yourself.”
I gasped and tapped my foot faster. “Was not.”
I’m pretty sure what he said happened, but I wasn’t going to admit it. Truth be told, I had conversations with myself all the time. It’s how I worked through things mentally. But I didn’t want him asking what I was talking to myself about.
His eyebrows lowered and he gave me a fake-stern look. “So was it good?”
“Was what good?”
“The conversation?”
I looked away and shook my head, attempting to hide my playful smile. Denying it again was my first thought, but he’d seen right through everything I threw at him from the get-go and I promised I’d have fun. “Actually, it was very good.”
“Do tell.”
A tingling sensation rushed between my legs, and a lump formed in my throat. The bastard didn’t even mean to flirt and somehow everything about him still turned me on.
“Hit me with the juicy details.”
To hell with it. I’m going to let myself go and have fun like I said.
I arched my back a little and puffed my chest up at him like one of the blonde groupies outside that I wasn’t jealous of for commanding his attention. To Matt’s credit he did his best to stay focused on my face, but his eyes glanced down to my chest for a split second and then back up to me.
“I was just arguing with myself over whether or not I wanted the music to stop.”
His eyes roamed to the Spinderellas letters on my shirt and this time he wasn’t fooling me with that whole I-was-checking-out-the-band-name nonsense. He subtly licked his lips and practically undressed me with his eyes.
I shouldn’t have been flirting with him, but every physical part of me outside my mind loved every second of it.
“Why would you want the music to stop?”
I motioned for him to lean down with my index finger, and he bent down. He was so tall I still had to get up on my tiptoes to get my mouth next to his ear. My boobs were right in front of his face so I lingered a moment longer than needed to give him a better view.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
I dropped down back to the balls of my feet and watched his eyes never leave me as he straightened back up. One of my eyebrows rose after I finished my question.
Matt’s eyes moved up to mine and he showed me that goddamn smirk of his again. “Pretty sure I already do know.”
Cocky asshat.
“Mmm-hmm, I bet.”
He nodded. “It’d be a good bet on your part.” He winked.
Even his wink was hot. Winking was lame and wasn’t supposed to be sexy. Winking wasn’t sexy! But when Matt Stallworth winked it sure as shit was.
I yanked my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans to text Jenny.
Me: You and Ethan are in trouble!
I started to shove the phone back into my pocket when it vibrated.
Jenny: What did we do now?
I tapped the screen rapidly with both of my thumbs and noticed Matt looking down at me. I turned away so he couldn’t see the screen.
Me: You know what for! Who told him where I work?
The three little dots immediately started bouncing around.
Jenny: Who? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Seriously.
Fucking Ethan Mason!
I glanced to Matt. “Your friend Ethan is in trouble.”
Matt watched the guys up on stage and didn’t look at me. I assumed it was because I flipped around so he couldn’t see the screen. Maybe he was being polite about it? Giving me personal space?
“Check one, check, check.” The sound echoed through the speakers and reverberated off the walls of Bizzell.
&nb
sp; “What for?” asked Matt.
“Don’t give me that. He’s the one who told you where I worked.”
“I was sworn to secrecy.”
“Yeah, sure whatever—”
“You want something to drink?” He cut me off midsentence.
“What? Don’t change the subject.”
“I’m thirsty. Let’s grab a drink before they come on.”
“What? Who?”
Matt stared at me like I was a three-headed monster. “Spinderellas.” He laughed again.
“Oh, right.” I looked down at the floor.
I couldn’t remember ever being at a concert and forgetting the band was the reason I was there. Hell, even when I’d dated musicians I think I’d been more excited about the music than the guy.
“Yeah, let’s grab a drink.” I’d get him to rat Ethan out. It had just become priority number one.
We walked over to the concession line. Female heads turned everywhere we went. I couldn’t tell if it was because of Matt’s height or because they’d recognized him. Either way, I received a different kind of stare from each of them once they’d finished ogling him.
I glanced up at Matt and he was focused on where he was walking and paid no attention to them. Could I get used to this? It was what it’d be like if I went on more dates with Matt. What would happen during baseball season when he had to be away on road trips? As much as I prided myself on not being a typical girly-girl, I still had my vices. I regularly frequented the website TMZ and read gossip about celebrities.
Those guys pretty much followed people like Matt around and snapped unflattering photos to cause controversy, especially when the famous people were dating. Would camera guys show up at my apartment? Why was I still entertaining the idea of dating Matt Stallworth?
I let out a long exhale of breath when we made it up to the bar top in the corner.
Matt’s hand moved to my lower back again and jolted me into the present. I leaned back into his hand before my brain could tell me it was a bad idea.
God, what would his hands feel like on my breasts? Or gripping my hips while he took me from behind? I shuddered at his touch and a shiver crept up my spine.
Matt’s eyes roved down to my back pressing into his hand and a devious smile crept across his lips. “What do you like to drink?”
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