“He thinks we’re together,” Natalie utters.
“They all signed the strictest of non-disclosures. If they so much as utter a word about anything personal regarding me, or anything else to do with the band, other than regular interview bullshit, they’ll pay, dearly.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, “I don’t want to make things weird. I just…you know.”
“I’m good, for now, being your dirty little secret, even if you’re refusing to be mine.”
She pinches my thigh hard beneath the table, and I chuckle. Seconds later, she flips the script. “You’re a real rock star.” Her hoarse declaration has me turning my head, and it’s when I see the look in her eyes that I’m struck by the same intensity I’ve come to crave from her. “You are, Easton. You were incredible tonight.”
We face off as the moment time stamps itself across my chest.
“You’re all just so insanely talented.” She lifts her voice, indicating our time alone is over. “That was the best concert I’ve ever been to.”
“Yeah?” Tack asks, dropping more shots at the table as Syd remains at the bar, no doubt clearing them out of the top shelf.
“Really?” I grin over at Natalie and nudge her. “The best, huh? Compared to what others?”
She bites her lip.
Busted.
“Who else have you seen live?” I prompt as Tack takes his seat, his eyes volleying between us in earnest.
“I’m not saying,” Natalie says, tossing her hair back as she pretends to study the menu.
“Come on, Nat. Now I have to know,” Tack prods playfully.
“Wait for it,” I mouth to Tack, lifting my arm and pointing over the top of her head.
“Fine…Dance Disney,” she spouts, palming her forehead as Tack and I burst into hysterical laughter.
“Oh, fuck right off,” she says between us. “Both of you.”
“It’s cool, baby,” Tack chuckles. “I’m flattered to be the front runner over Dance Disney.”
“Football,” Natalie interjects, neck reddening. “That’s my thing. My dad and I have season tickets and regularly attend UT games. It’s Butler tradition. I might not know much about music, but I know football.”
“That we can get into,” Tack says as he looks over to me and dips his chin. His stamp of approval, not that I needed it. Even so, it doesn’t hurt he’ll watch out for her.
“You,” she snaps as I give her my attention. “Take a damned compliment from me already,” she grits out as Syd sidles up to the table with a goddamn tray full of shots.
“I would much rather shut you up while you attempt to,” I whisper back.
“I’m sorry I mentioned my dad,” she utters low for me.
“I’ve got nothing against your dad, Natalie.”
She narrows her eyes. “Speaking of, where is your room?”
“Okay, now maybe I have something against your dad,” I jest.
“Not funny,” she smiles.
“Same floor as yours,” I grin back. “Think you can handle it, or should I bolt my door?”
“Are you…planning on being preoccupied?”
I grip the edge of the table because I know I wasn’t fucking alone between those curtains. She’s already shrugging that kiss off—if it can be called that. It was more like a make-out session while hiding in plain sight. Though I loved every minute of it, she seems to have completely blanked it out, as if it didn’t happen. She reads my irritation and bristles in her seat next to me. “All I’m asking is, please don’t play me for a fool. I know what this atmosphere truly is about, and shielding me from it isn’t going to change my perception.”
My chest pumps with my scoff. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”
“Yes,” she says without hesitation. “Don’t protect me. If some crazy fan wants to run in here, titties blazing with a sharpie in hand, I’m here for it.” She gives me the most sincere smile she can muster as more laughter bursts from me. I push a partially damp curl from the side of her face, hating the fact that I can forgive her so easily. Unfortunately for her, I won’t forget.
“What?” she grins.
“You’re beautiful.”
“But you feel sorry for me?”
“No, it’s clear you’re sleeping better now.”
“Yeah, I am.”
“Then I guess I feel sorry for myself,” I scan the menu again and make a quick decision.
“Not that well,” she admits as I turn to see her lips parting slightly. It’s physically painful to stop myself from claiming them if only to shut her up. Seeming to read my mind, Natalie pulls a shot from the tray, deciding to numb away the red elephant, denying us both. After the few prompts this morning from my mother’s cosmos—not that I really needed them—I made a split decision to pick her up, knowing the attempt might have me making a damn fool of myself. The sight of her in the office instantly made the drive worth it before I dialed her.
Watching her let my call go unanswered felt like a glass bottle to the temple, while seeing her expression because of said call felt like a simultaneous jolt to the chest.
Minutes later, I watch Natalie pick at her food before she opts for more numbing. A few shots later, I give up the struggle. Whatever conversation she had with Nate ruined everything we were building up to during the drive and after the concert. Even with the clock ticking and a well-formed bone to pick, I decide to leave it untouched, at least for the night.
Not Enough Time
INXS
Easton
Not long after the last of the drinks are consumed, Natalie’s eyes begin to droop. After paying the tab, Tack and Syd opted to leave us and hit one of the downtown bars for a night ender, while LL remained unaccounted for. At first, I thought Syd would be the one to watch, but as it turned out, when we hit the road, LL became the front runner for the possibility of becoming the most problematic. Since we started, he’s opted to partake more often than not and shows up for band engagements a clammy, shaking mess. So far, he hasn’t missed a sound check or showtime, nor has anyone been forced to summon him, so I’m not touching it for now.
Once alone, Natalie and I head up to our floor in the elevator as easy, liquor-induced chatter and mixed laughter erupt from her—her buzz far outweighing the few bites of pasta in her stomach.
“And when you started playing Cult, I totally lost my shit,” she recalls enthusiastically. Safely behind the closed doors, she turns to me and diminishes the foot of space she’s been putting between us since the restaurant. “How do you feel, Easton?”
“Good.”
“No, really,” she grips my T-shirt, stretching it until I give in, and pulls me down so we’re nose to nose, imploring me. I can’t help my grin.
“In comparison to you right now, I think you’ve got me beat.”
“Shut up.” She widens her eyes. “It’s happened, it’s happening! You kicked your fear’s ass, and now,” she gestures a hand grenade toss and makes an explosion sound.
“Not quite kicked, but it feels good,” I admit honestly.
“You’re downplaying it. Tell me all the good parts. Did Stella freak?”
I can’t help my growing smile when I think of Mom’s reaction. “That’s been the best part. She’s pretty emotional. She pukes when she gets excited or upset, and that day was no exception. It was hilarious. Every time she started to talk, she’d gag.” I clear my throat and spout my best impression, “‘Easton, I’m so proud-bleck,’ ‘Easton, I can’t believe—bleck,’ and then she’d run away. I thought we were going to have to sedate her.”
Natalie throws her head back in laughter, and I join her as the elevator doors open once we reach our floor. She stumbles a little with her exit, and I reach out to steady her. “Good?”