Then she throws her arms around me like we’re long lost friends. “Hi! I’m Bell, River’s sister.”
“Dahlia. Nice to meet you, Bell,” I say as she continues to clutch her arms around my back before finally allowing me room to breathe. She studies me for a few beats. “You look familiar.”
“I went to USC. River said you were a junior when I was a senior.”
Shrugging her shoulders she says, “Maybe that’s it.” Gently tugging on some of my hair, she says, “I think I’d remember you. You’re so pretty and the shade of your golden blonde hair is unforgettable.”
She looks at River and gives him a look that he obviously recognizes because he grins at her. Then twisting sideways, she winks at the bartender and points to me. Why? I have no idea. Then she diverts her attention back to us. I can tell she has all kinds of questions for her brother, but she holds back.
“So where did you two meet?” she asks me as the River’s name is being chanted from across the room. Looking over, I see a dark-haired, dark-eyed man catcalling River. He continues to cup his hands over his mouth, calling River’s name. River smiles at me and raises his chin in the air toward his friend as he tugs on my hand. “Come on,” then asks his sister, “You coming?”
Shrugging her shoulders, Bell replies, “I’ll meet you over there,” then winks at me and says, “We’ll talk later,” as she flutters off toward the bar.
Approaching the seating area, the very attractive dark-haired guy is sipping his beer with an arm draped around the girl standing next to him. As he tilts his bottle back, he eyes me up and down then finishes his drink before setting it on the table. He drops his arm from the girl and grabs two beers out of an ice bucket on the coffee table. Twisting the tops off the Heinekens, he sidesteps the knockout redhead and walks up to us just as we approach him.
He’s about my height with a very athletic build. I could clearly see the cut-line of his arm muscles as he twisted the caps, and his tight shirt shows signs of well-defined abdominal muscles. He obviously works out. His hair is short, but long enough that it is wispily styled to the side, his eyes are like rich chocolate, and his skin is almost almond in color, making him appear slightly tanned.
He hands one bottle to River and the other to me. “River, man where the fuck you been? You’ve been MIA!” he says. Then with a big smile, displaying the whitest teeth I have ever seen, he adds, “And who is this beautiful thing you brought with you?”
As I look at this guy, who can no doubt woo any girl, I can tell he must be part Native American. Glancing at the arm that just handed me a drink, I notice he has a very detailed tribal tattoo circling his bicep with an intricate feather design draped down his arm. It is peeking out from under the short sleeve of his tight black t-shirt.
“Phoenix, this is my girl, Dahlia London,” River says, dropping my hand to place his arm around my shoulder before he continues with, “Dahlia, this jackass is Nix Stone.”
“Dahlia, like the flower?” he asks, raising his hand to shake mine. “Nice to meet you.” Raising one eyebrow in question, he asks, “What’s a sweet thing like you doing hanging out with this douchebag?”
River pipes in with, “Language dude. Really?” And he squeezes me a little tighter.
Nix must be short for Phoenix I figure as I take a sip of my beer just to break his gaze. I hate the taste of beer without ice, so while blinking at his brash forwardness and the taste of the beer, I decide to ignore his rude question. Instead I shake his hand in response. “Nice to meet you! You’re the guitarist?”
He nods his head yes and shakes my hand a little longer than necessary but stops as River eyes him.