Glancing towards the back, I notice Weston edging his bulk closer to Lucy’s table.
While I’m happy to play knight in shining armor for Lucy any day, part of me is overcome with weariness. Why does this still have to feel like an act when it stopped being one a while ago?
After jumping down from the platform, I make my way towards Lucy and her friends.
“Hey you,” Lucy says as I approach their table.
Whipping around a vacant chair, I straddle it backwards, leaning my forearms on the top of the wood.
“Are you enjoying the show?” I direct the question to all of them, but the only opinion I actually care about is Lucy’s.
Isabelle, who I’ve met before, is beaming on one side of Lucy, and Amelia, the tall Asian friend, is smirking on the other. On the opposite end of the table is a red-haired woman I don’t know—I assume she’s Zoe. She’s tiny, but that scowl could level a grown man. Probably has.
“Yes, so much,” Lucy says, her smile flickering even as she glances away, twisting a lock of dark hair around her finger. “I love ‘Brown-eyed Girl.’” Her eyes meet mine again, and I feel like there’s something she wants to say, but doesn’t.
I’m frustrated that Lucy’s asshole ex is diverting my attention from her—I’m dying to figure out what that question in her eyes is. But when Weston’s shadow crosses the table, I know he’s close enough to hear our conversation.
I guess I better get the job done at least. “Well, it always reminds me of you,” I grin, raising my eyebrows.
At my response, Lucy’s eyes dart up, understanding flooding her face. She’s realized Weston is too close for comfort as well.
“I love when you sing for me inprivate.” Her cheeks flush when she says the word “private,” and frankly, so does mine. “But it’s just as fun to see you in front of a crowd. Sorry I haven’t been here as much as I’ve wanted to be.”
“That’s okay,” I say with what I hope is an air of confidence. But on the inside, I’m once again confronted with the fact that Lucyknowsme. She realizes that having a girlfriend here would be…everything…to me.
“I know you try to make it when you can.” The words come out more croaky than I intend. So I quickly pivot by taking hold of the lock of hair she’s twisting nervously around her finger and gently tucking it behind her ear.
As I touch Lucy, Weston’s jaw clenches. While his reaction is the goal of all of this, I’m more focused on the softness of Lucy’s skin under my fingers. I remind myself that none of this is real, and that Lucy needs help, not another man pawing at her. Even so, I wish I could explore every dip and curve to help convince myself—once and for all—that she wasn’t just a dream that slips away upon waking.
“Your place or mine?” Lucy’s hesitancy from earlier seems to melt away, and I’m not sure what that means.
And then my brain catches up. Even though it’ll never happen, the mere suggestion of Lucy coming back to my apartment tonight sends all the blood pooling downwards.
Fucking control yourself, Jake. “Either one.”
“There are other people here, you know,” the redhead says, arms folded.
Tearing my eyes away from Lucy, I grin at the grumpy woman. “We haven’t met yet. I’m Jake Whitlock.”
“Zoe Conners,” she says. “And your bartender is a jackass.”
Amelia hides her face behind a hand, her shoulders shaking in what I presume to be laughter, while Isabelle is full-on grinning. Lucy just looks mortified.
I snort. “I’m assuming you’re talking about Luke.”
“If that’s the guy with the backwards cap, yes.”
Wow, Luke has really pissed this woman off. Amused despite myself, I’m glad I’m getting some ammo to use against him when he inevitably gives me shit about Lucy. “Yup, that’s him. He’s definitely an acquired taste. Sorry you didn’t have a better experience.”
Zoe slumps back in her chair, green eyes stormy. “Whatever.”
Sensing my time is up, I turn to Lucy, hooking my fingers under her chin, tipping her face towards mine.
Déjà vu slams into me as I recall how I almost kissed her in my apartment, and I’m almost overwhelmed by the desire to do so now.
“Catch you after the show?” My voice is low, hopeful, and not at all fake.
As Lucy’s eyes search mine for a moment, I become acutely aware at how small the space is between us. All I would have to do is lean a couple of inches closer, and that’s all it would take for my mouth to capture hers.
