The Way Back

by Melissa Toppen

  While I have missed Zayne incredibly and it has taken everything I have not to pick up the phone and call him, I’ve enjoyed my time with Emma and Carver. It's the first time since this whole Zayne fiasco started that I have been able to hang out with them.

  Unfortunately for me, Emma has a show tonight and Carver has a date, which leaves me friendless for the night. Apparently the redhead from Serenity is good for more than dry humping on a dance floor and Carver has seen her a couple of times since that night.

  While I’m happy that he has found someone that he really seems to like and that Em is out living her dream, sitting at home alone on a Friday night is a recipe for disaster. I have to keep myself busy. At least I recognize this. And while crying into a tub of ice cream all night sounds appealing, I refuse to let myself go there. Admitting how far I have fallen for the one man I can't have is not something I want to dwell on.

  No, I need to get out. Try to move on with my life. I have to learn to accept that either I put Zayne behind me or I settle for what I can have; a loveless relationship where the other party continues to sleep around. Either way I lose, but at least walking away now lets me keep a little bit of my dignity intact.

  Because even if Zayne wants whatever this is to continue, I know that my heart is too far in it now to accept any less than all of him.

  I text Becca to see what she's up to tonight and get a response within minutes. Apparently Saving Solace is playing at Vitos tonight and while Jake and Pat are manning the bar, Becca is hanging out in case they need an extra hand. I guess this band has a pretty big local following and draws in quite the crowd.

  Deciding that my options are otherwise very limited, I settle on heading over to keep Becca company. I throw on a pair of ripped jeans partnered with a black fitted tank that has rips and tears purposely placed across it. It shows just enough flashes of skin to be sexy but not too much that it's overly revealing or shows off anything I don't want it to. I leave my hair down and complete the look with smoky eyes and a light layer of mascara. Nothing too over the top but dramatic enough that I will fit right in with the rock crowd that typically frequents Vitos.

  I walk through the doors not fifteen minutes later and am completely floored by the amount of people that are here. Certainly, they must be violating at least five fire code rules, the biggest being well over capacity. People are jammed inside the little bar standing shoulder to shoulder, most crowded around the small stage where the band has already started their set.

  From what I have learned from Becca, Saving Solace plays a combination of covers and originals, making sure they keep the crowd interested and involved. Right now Seether's version of “Careless Whisper” is blaring from the stage. I can't see the band but the lead singer’s voice is like pure silk. Smooth and deep with just enough rasp to make it sexy as hell.

  After squeezing through the small space and rubbing my body up against more people than I care to think about, I finally spot Becca at the end of the bar. Per her usual garb, she's dressed in a black and red plaid skirt with a black shirt that dips low in the back, putting her tattooed back on full display.

  She gives me a bright smile when she catches sight of me and immediately stands from her stool to pull me into a friendly hug. “This is crazy,” I yell over the music, gesturing around the bar. “Poor guys,” I say, pointing toward Jake and Pat who are frantically trying to keep up with the amount of drink orders pouring in, not only from the bar but from the two waitresses working the floor as well.

  “Bullshit! They’re making bank!” Becca swipes her hand through the air. “Lucky bastards. I would have loved to work tonight but Pat was already scheduled.”

  I turn my attention back to the bar, catching Pat's attention first. After filling three martini glasses full of some bright red liquid, he saunters over to me, giving me what he thinks is his panty dropping smile, before asking what he can get for me.

  I have only met Pat one other time when he stopped by during one of my sets. He typically only works the weekends. While he's not ugly by any means, he definitely is not the hunk he thinks he is. He's rather short for a guy and extremely stocky. Not fat, just broad. His light brown hair can only be described as wanna be Edward Cullen hair, and while he thinks his muscle shirts are sexy, they're actually quite the opposite.

  Regardless, once you get past his obnoxious cockiness, he's not so bad. “You playing for us tonight?” he asks, nodding his head toward the stage.

  “Not a chance,” I yell so he can hear me over the band.

  “Pick your poison.” He smiles, stepping back to gesture around the bar. “Of course I could always make you a Patgasm.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

  “Trust me, you don't want anywhere near that.” Becca laughs beside me. “Give us two shots of tequila and waters,” she says, shooing him away with her hands.

  “Thank you,” I say, grateful that she stepped in. Again, I have only been around Pat once, but in that short timeframe I learned quite a bit about him. While I think most of it is an act, some of it is just how he is. He's crude and sexual and I swear he thinks that every woman wants to sleep with him. I couldn't keep up with how many times he hinted that we leave and head back to his place in the roughly one hour I spent with him prior to tonight.

  He drops our drinks off in next to no time and then hurries away to serve a large group of women that have managed to squeeze their way to the bar. Becca raises her shot glass and clinks it with mine, winking before pouring the liquid down her throat. I smile at her and follow suit, the bite from the tequila causing an involuntary shudder to run through my body.

  Jake refills our shots almost immediately and we repeat the process again, twice, before Becca convinces me to join her on the dance floor. Having eaten almost nothing today, I can feel the tequila already working its magic, going straight to my head almost the second my feet hit the floor.

  I let Becca pull me through the crowd to the very edge of the dance floor before stopping. My eyes immediately fall to the stage and having not checked out the band before now, my jaw practically hits the floor when my eyes fall on the lead singer.

  He is downright hot. Like rock star hot. He runs his hand through his shaggy blonde hair as he belts out the lyrics to a song I can only guess is an original. His handsome face is lightly covered in stubble like he hasn't shaved in days and it makes the sharp features of his jaw stand out. His tall, lean body is dressed in tattered, worn jeans and an old vintage Nirvana t-shirt. One muscled arm is completely sleeved in various tattoos while the other is completely bare.

  While I love the rocker bad boy as much as the next girl, I've never really thought of them as my type. But this man, well this man could very well change my mind in that regard. Or at least maybe he could if a certain perfect god-like man didn't already occupy every fiber in my entire body. And just like that, thoughts of Zayne come flooding back into my mind.

  Becca nudges me in the side and then cocks her head toward the stage when I catch her eyes, clearly not missing the way I’m obviously checking out the singer. She fans herself with her hand, indicating she thinks so too and then smiles widely at me.

  After three songs of being packed tightly in a cluster of people, my entire body is dripping in sweat and I leave Becca on the dance floor to return to the bar for something to drink. It takes almost ten minutes before Jake even acknowledges me standing here, by which time the band has announced that they are taking a twenty minute break. Like clockwork, background music clicks on, filling the noisy bar.

  With all the people from the dance floor now making their way to the bar, Jake and Pat get even more slammed with orders. Just as I’m about to offer to jump in, Becca climbs on top of the bar and jumps down behind it. She fills two shot glasses and hands one across the bar to me. We both laugh and then drink our shots before she makes her way to the other end of the bar to fill the waitress’s orders.

  Not really having much to do, I watch Becca behind the bar. There is something so beauti
ful about the way her and Jake interact with one another. He will pass by her and brush his shoulder so slightly against hers or brush his fingertips across her arm while reaching to grab a bottle. You would have to really be paying attention to notice that it's intentional and I don't miss the way she does the same things to him. Grazing her fingers with his as they both reach for a glass. Trailing her hand across his back as she passes behind him. You can see the affection in every touch. I can't believe I never noticed it before, but it's clear to me now. These two aren't just dating, they are completely in love with one another.

  “Just about makes you sick, doesn't it?” an accented voice fills my ears and I jump slightly, having been in a daze. When my eyes fall to the man next to me, I swear my jaw must be on the bar. It's the lead singer from the band and not only is he hot as sin, but he also has an accent and one that I didn't pick up on in the slightest while he was on stage.

  “I'm sorry, what?” I ask, having no idea what he's talking about. He smiles widely at me and gestures his beer bottle toward where Jake and Becca are standing next to the register.

  “Kind of makes your stomach turn a bit, doesn't it? Watching them two. At least they are more subtle about it these days. When they first met they couldn't keep their hands off each other and I'm not talking about little touches here and there. I'm talking about practically getting it on behind the damn bar.” He laughs, taking a drink of his beer.

  “Well, glad I missed that.” I let out a soft laugh.

  “I'm Thad, by the way.”

  “Thad?” I question, having never really heard the name before.

  “Thaddeus,” he clarifies. “But that's not very rock star, is it?” He chuckles.

  “No I guess not,” I agree. “I'm Grace. I'm sorry but where are you from?” I ask, not being able to pinpoint the accent.

  “Ireland.” He smiles. “Moved to the states about four years ago and can't bring myself to go back.”

  “New York will do that to you,” I agree.

  “You come here often?” he asks. Not like in a cheesy pickup line way but more just seeming curious.

  “Four nights a week.” I laugh when his eyebrows shoot up in question. “No, I don't have a drinking problem. I play here, Sunday through Wednesday.”

  “Grace Morgan? You mean to tell me I am sitting with the Grace Morgan,” he teases. “Seriously though, Jake's told me tons about you. From what I gather, you are quite talented. Though I would like to hear you first before I give my two cents.” He nudges his shoulder against mine.

  “Well, now you know where to find me.” I sigh, faking annoyance. He lets out a full belly laugh, his chocolate brown eyes sparkling at me.

  “I like you, Grace Morgan.” He drains the contents of his beer before setting the empty bottle on the bar. “But I’m a very impatient person. Come on.” He holds his hand out to me.

  “What?” I look from his eyes to his hand and back to his eyes. Realizing my confusion, he laughs again.

  “Come play with me,” he says, his hand still extended to me. I immediately shake my head and lean away from him.

  “Oh, hell no. I have not had nearly enough alcohol to get in front of a crowd this big,” I say, shaking my head again.

  “Shot of tequila and keep them coming,” he hollers to Becca as she passes, causing a huge smile to light up her face. “The night is young, love. Drink up.” He rasps in my ear, before turning toward the stage and disappearing into the crowd.

  THAD REAPPEARS AT MY side each time the band takes a break, trying his luck time and time again at getting me to join him on stage. By one in the morning, I’m far too drunk for my own good but somehow sober enough that I still feel somewhat in control of myself.

  “It's time, love,” Thad croons next to me, draping his arm across my shoulders. I once again shake my head no and then laugh at the pouty look he gives me. “You won't be up there alone, we will do a duet.”

  “Nope, not doing it.”

  “Oh, come on. Humor me. I'll tell you what. You pick the song, if my band doesn't know it then you're off the hook, but if they do? Well, then your ass is on that stage with me.” He smiles widely at me and I can't help but to return it.

  I tap my finger against my chin, thinking entirely too hard about what songs they are likely not to know, finally settling on a country song that is sure to get him off my back. No way a rock singer from Ireland is going to know what this song is.

  “‘I Run to You’ by Lady A.”

  I totally got this.

  “Done. I'll see you on stage in five.” He tucks my hair over my shoulder and leans down to whisper in my ear. “Never underestimate an Irish man,” he husks, his breath tickling my neck.

  While I would be lying if I said that his closeness doesn't stir something in me, I still can't shake the thought of Zayne. Even after this sexy as hell singer has spent the night hitting on me, all I can think about is Zayne's eyes, the way they seem to see right through me. His hands and how they feel on my body. His mouth and the way it moves against mine. Every single time I stop to enjoy the attention from Thad, my mind goes to Zayne. It's more than a little frustrating.

  Sighing in defeat, I playfully shove him away and ask Becca for another shot. Within minutes the group has re-emerged on stage and the first thing Thad does is ask the audience, which unfortunately has not dwindled down much, to welcome me to the stage.

  A few heads turn in my direction as I make my way through the sea of people, but most pay very little attention to me. When I reach the end of the dance floor, Thad holds his hand out and gives me a brilliant smile as he helps me up onto the stage.

  “Ready?” he asks, his smile not fading. I shake my head slowly, suddenly feeling the overwhelming need to vomit. I have never been on stage without my guitar before and it leaves me feeling naked and vulnerable. Add into it the amount of people with their eyes on me, and it only intensifies the feeling. It takes everything I have not to run off the stage.

  When the music kicks in, I focus on Thad. The moment the words leave his lips I’m entranced. His voice has to be one of the sexiest I have ever heard and with his brown eyes pinned solely on me as he sings, the crowd sort of fades into the background. As long as I can focus on him, I can get through this. Just don't look out at the audience, is all I can think.

  Thad steps forward, reaching out to trail the back of his hand down my cheek as he sings. The contact causes a flurry of butterflies to erupt in my stomach and I don't know if it's from his skin on mine or the fact that my part is quickly approaching. Either way, I push it down and try to run through the lyrics in my head.

  Truth is, I don't know the song that well, as in I have never sung it before, not really anyway. I only know it because Emma played it for a solid month when it first came on the radio.

  I almost miss the intro to my part, but luckily catch it just in time to start on key. I repeat Thad's motions while he was singing, angling my body toward him and singing directly at him rather than the crowd. With each word that I sing, my confidence grows and before long I’m really getting into the performance.

  By the third verse, Thad and I are in perfect sync. With each line that we sing, our bodies get closer and closer, until we are singing directly into each other’s faces, our bodies pressed together as I lean my head back to look up at him. When the last note of the guitar strums out, Thad smiles brightly at me and leans down, gently brushing his lips against mine.

  The contact is so light and brief that for a moment I wonder if I imagined that his lips actually touched mine. The crowd breaks out in whoops and hollers and I’m reminded of how many people are watching us at this very moment. My breath catches and I instinctively take a step backward, giving Thad a playful shove, trying to play off the moment as nothing more than an act. Which it very well may have been.

  Knowing that the band still has to continue with their set, I give a small wave to the crowd and exit to the side of the stage. “Give it up for the lovely Grace Morgan, ev
eryone! If you like what you heard, make sure you stop by Sunday through Wednesday to check out her acoustic set,” Thad tells the crowd, his accent on proud display causing a few females in the audience to sigh and fan themselves.

  I smile and shake my head as I disappear down the long hall at the back of the bar that leads to the bathrooms. While I was very hesitant to get up there, I can't deny the rush that I felt from performing. My body has still not fully come down from the high of being on stage in front of so many people and by the time I exit the ladies’ room, I decide another drink is a must.

  Just a few feet from the end of the hall, a door opens as I pass by, and before I have time to react, someone grabs my arm and jerks me inside.

  “What the hell?” I exclaim, spinning around in the dimly lit storage closet to get a look at whoever pulled me in here. When my eyes lock with the deep blue of Zayne's, my breath hitches in my throat. “What... What are you doing here? I thought you were in China.”

  He doesn't bother answering any of my questions. Instead he backs me into the door, latching it closed behind me.

  “What the fuck was that?” His voice is low and his eyes are dark, hovering just inches from my face. I can only imagine the look of surprise and shock I’m wearing.

  “What are you talking about?” My voice comes out broken and I take a deep breath to steady myself. I don't know what he’s playing at but I’m not about to be pushed around.

  “What the fuck is going on with you and the singer?” His voice is harsh and I can see the anger flicker across his face.

  Immediately, my anger surfaces full force and I reach out and shove him backward. He takes two steps back, giving me enough room that I feel like I can breathe but still hovering very close to me. “I don't think that's any of your business,” I bite out just as harshly, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” He cocks his head to the side and studies me for a fraction of a second. “You made it everyone's business with that ridiculous display on stage.”