My eyes ache as I read through what feels like the eight millionth document to be filed. It’s been a long day of organizing paperwork, the perfect way to detox from my hectic morning.
After my run-in with Blake in the weight room, things have gone smoothly, and I’m falling into the job well. Other than fielding phone calls for Mr. Gibbs and filling file cabinets, the afternoon has been uneventful.
I check the clock on my computer screen. It’s almost five, and I want to wait outside for Elle so she doesn’t have to come in and hunt me down. I log out and organize my desk so that I can get right back to work first thing tomorrow morning. Footfalls sound from down the hallway, and I pray to the gods of executive assistants that it’s not Mr. Gibbs with more paperwork.
A big guy, obviously a fighter, makes his way to my desk. He wears his baseball hat crooked, off center just enough to look cool, and cocked low over one eye. I can’t tell who it is, and my heart races until I notice black hair sticking out from the sides of the hat. Not Blake. Phew.
Earlier today, I had the energy to put on my confident wares, but exhaustion has set in, and I don’t think I could stand up to him now. The last thing I want is to expose my insecurities. Especially to a guy like him.
“Hey.” He steps up to my desk.
This is one of the guys I met in the weight room.
“Hey. Rex, right?”
“Yeah.” He smiles, and his lip ring shines against the backdrop of his straight, white teeth.
Huh. He didn’t have that lip ring in earlier. I tilt my head. Or the one in his eyebrow. This guy has a unique style.
“Mr. Gibbs is gone for the day.” I point over my shoulder to the empty office. “I might be able to help you, but I’m still so new I—”
“That’s cool.” He shrugs. “I’m actually here to talk to you.” He turns his head and digs in his back pocket.
My eyes go directly to an orange, red, and blue tattoo that snakes up the side of his neck. Part of it disappears beneath his sweatshirt, but I can tell that it’s a dragon.
He turns back to me, and I’m forced to pull my eyes from his body art. He drops a bright yellow folded piece of paper on my desk. “That’s my band.”
“Oh.” I pick it up and unfold it. “You’re in a band?”
“Yeah. I know you’re new in town, and I thought you’d—”
“How do you know that?” I cringe, and immediately wish like hell I could take back my outburst. Hiding things from people will be much easier if I don’t act like I have something to hide. “I mean, I don’t remember telling anyone that.” I try to force a playful laugh, but it sounds anything but.
His eyes move to the side of my head.
A loose strand of my hair is quadruple wrapped around my index finger. I didn’t even realize I was doing it. With a quick shake, I free it and tuck it behind my ear.
He points down the hallway. “Taylor put up a memo in the locker room announcing your addition to the team, and it said you moved here from Seattle.”
“Oh, right.” I lean back in my chair, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose to study the flyer Rex gave me. “Ataxia” is printed across the top in letters that look like they’re dripping. Dates and club names are listed beneath it.
“I figure you probably don’t have a huge social circle yet, so thought I’d drop by a flyer. Maybe you could hit up our next gig.”
“Looks interesting.” My heart warms at his thoughtfulness. I don’t have any friends in Vegas. And I love music. Live music is even better. Not that I have a ton of experience with concerts, but I’ve always been curious. “What kind of music do you play?”
“Melodic punk rock. Don’t know if it’s your thing, but it’ll give you an excuse to get out. Meet some people.”
“Sure.” A smile tugs at my lips. He’s like a big city boy with small-town charm. “Thanks.”
“Sunday night’s at The Blackout. We get a pretty good crowd.”
I clear my throat. “How long have you been in a band?”
“Been playing local clubs for a few years.” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his black jeans. “Fighting comes first. Music second.”
“Well, thanks for this.” I hold up the band flyer. “I’ll definitely check it out.”
“Right on.” He rolls his lip ring between his teeth then releases it. “See ya tomorrow, Layla.”
“Good night.” I watch him walk away, both surprised and excited to have plans.
Nothing says roots like a job and plans with friends. The warm feeling of belonging floods my chest. I take a deep breath and allow the sensation to sink in and penetrate the frigid chill of aimlessness that I’ve felt for years.
I’m determined to make this new life of ours beautiful. I can’t accept anything less. Not again.
Four
Blake