one of those cheek to cheek jobs, but I hadn’t expected it.
“Caio, Paisley.”
Em was laughing when I glanced back to her. “We just returned from Italy,” she explained. “He likes the custom.”
“It’s a great custom,” Shane stated with a wink.
“When it suits you. You weren’t nearly as accommodating with Enzo or his brothers.”
“Well they’re guys so…”
Watching the two converse felt like an intrusion of their privacy. They were so attuned to one another. His hand rested at the small of her back. Slowly, his thumb drew small circles against her skin. As she shifted her weight toward him, he peered down into her eyes, a smile stretching across his face. Their connection was palpable, their love undeniable.
I felt a pang of disappointment over another failed relationship. At this point, I was fairly certain I would never find someone who understood me, not to the level that Em and Shane understood one another. I was envious that they had embraced what so many rarely found.
“How am I on time?” Jaxon asked. He was tall and lanky, with dirty blond hair. He looked like I did in nursing school the first time I was about to poke my lab partner with a needle; like he was about to puke his guts up.
Shane looked away from Em, and at his watch. “Damn, yeah, better get backstage.” He grabbed Em’s hand, and with a quick wave, followed Marshall out into the crowd.
Jaxon smiled nervously and saluted Jake before trailing behind them. His sight still wasn’t one hundred percent, because he only made it about five feet before placing his hand on Em’s shoulder for guidance. His other arm, he reached up and dragged it across his forehead.
“He’s going to puke his guts up,” Jake observed.
“Is this his first time on stage?”
“No.” Jake snorted. “Kid was busking when we found him in Eugene. Had been for about two years.”
“Lucky break.” From busking to Hautboy. Not bad.
“Ain’t nothing lucky about it. He’s good. Fucking self-taught.”
“No shit?” That’s pretty amazing.
“From what we’ve been told, he played a bit in high school. The rest he learned from watching videos on the internet at the library.”
“Impressive.”
“He’s a good guy.”
“He’s nice.” It was a general statement. Something you said for the lack of having something better to say. I was being polite.
Taking a deep draw of my beer, I swallowed it down with a gulp. I was back to contemplating whether or not I should call my brother for a ride home. It might be worth hearing Pax’s wrath just to get this night over with.
“Let’s go,” said Jake. He held out his hand. Obtusely, I stared. “You came out tonight for a reason, Shaw. You want to take some frustration out; I’m giving you the chance. But you’d better jump now before Marshall comes back. He’s a better man than I am.”
Quickly, I slammed my beer down and grasped his hand. His fingers curled around mine in a firm grip. I wish that last drink had been something harder. Whoever had come up with the analogy of butterflies fluttering in their stomach had it all wrong. Mine was filled with eels.
It wasn’t a bad thing, just that same rush Jaxon was feeling right now.
I followed him to the elevators. The doors on the right opened first. We stepped inside. Taylor, the remaining bodyguard, stopped just outside and waited with his back to the doors. Jake pressed the button and the doors began to close, sealing off the sound of the band and the screaming fans. The only distinguishable sound was the bass reverberating up the elevator shaft and through the floor.
“Nervous, Shaw?”
“Riddled with anticipation.” No lie. I was totally fangirling. I was no better than Monica, whom I’d criticized a day ago for doing the very same thing.
Abruptly, I found myself against the wall of the elevator. My cheek felt feverish
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