“You don’t have to—“
“Get you anything. I heard you. And you didn’t have to come here tonight when you’ve gotta work early in the morning, but you did because I asked you to.”
“You begged me to.”
“The point is you’re here when I need you and that’s worth way more to me than a few diamonds.”
I feel that traitorous blush on my cheeks, the one he draws out time and time again. The one I can’t hide; my heart on my face instead of my sleeve.
I put my hand on the side of his face to bring his lips to mine so I can kiss him. So I can hide behind him. So I can lose myself in him and the electrical storm that rages through my body whenever he’s near me. The kiss is innocent and light, but the feeling inside me is rich. Thick with so many things that conflict and coil together. Desire, fear, joy.
When I pull away he’s looking down at me with half closed eyes and a small smile on his face. One full of affection that I feel through every nerve in my body. That bubbles up and out of me, making me laugh out of nowhere. But that’s what Colt does to me. He fills me with this impossible happiness that’s so overwhelming there’s nowhere for it to go but up. Up and out and into the air around us, effervescing. Dancing.
“I like you,” I whisper to him.
His grin grows. “Say that again. I like the way it sounds.”
I scoot closer to him inside the booth, my side flush with his, our faces inches apart. “I like you, Colt. I like you very, very much.”
“I like you too, Lilly.” He runs his hand down my back, tangling his fingers in my hair. “I like you very, very much.”
“Come on, guys!” the woman pushes from the stage. “No one is brave enough to take the stage?!”
“Enough to do something crazy with me?” I ask Colt.
His eyes light up with interest. “What’d you have in mind?”
I tip my head in the direction of the stage where a woman with white cornrows is still barking, demanding another victim. “Sing with me.”
Colt laughs, throwing his head back, letting the rich sound pour over me. “Hell no,” he replies, bringing his eyes back to mine. “I’ll do a lot of wild shit, Lilly, but that’s not something you want. Trust me.”
“You can’t be that bad,” I chuckle.
Colt nods emphatically. “Oh, yes, I can. I am. But now I’m interested. Get up there. Sing me something sultry.”
“Like what?”
“Whatever you’re feelin’.”
“What’s happening?” Tyus asks.
“She’s trying to get me to sing karaoke with her.”
“No,” Trey says immediately.
Sloane shakes her head. “Seriously. Please don’t. He sang Landslide a month ago and I’m still recovering.”
“Can you sing?” Tyus asks me.
“Pretty well,” I answer modestly. “I used to do it all the time. Rona and I practically lived at a karaoke bar on Burbank.”
“Why’d you stop?”
I shrug, not sure how to answer that question. There are too many reasons, too many factors that contributed to the fading of Lilly Hendricks to explain right now. “Life,” I answer simply.
Tyus considers me for a moment before nodding to the stage. “Let’s hear it, then. Quick, before this asshole starts popping Pesos into the juke and we’re listening to Garth Brooks for the rest of the night.”
“Do you know any Garth Brooks?” Colt asks me.
I laugh, shaking my head. “He’s not my style. Sorry.”
“Fuck! You were almost perfect. I guess everyone’s gotta have a flaw.”
“Better this than a cult membership,” Hollis reminds him.
“She’s got you laughing less than twenty-four hours after a loss,” Sloane points out. “She’s a fucking godsend, Colt. Don’t you dare start talking about flaws.”
“Go on,” Tyus prods with a small grin. “Show us your pipes.”
“Will you sing too?” I ask.
“I wanna see what kind of act I’m following first.”
“The screen is broken,” Colt warns me. “You won’t have the words.”
“I won’t need them.”
Hollis stands up, cupping his hands around his mouth. “We got a taker!”
“Bring ‘em up!” the woman shouts back happily.
Sloane and Trey shimmy out of the booth to let me out, and I realize I’m actually doing this. I’m going up to the stage to sing in this bar with these people watching. I know I can carry a tune. If I’m not in the mood to be humble, I’ll admit I’m really good, actually. I spent four years in high school beating Grammy Nominee Cassie Carlyle out of roles in school musicals. ‘Really good’ probably doesn’t cover it.