Ham glanced at her, then quickly ripped his gaze away. “I used to stutter when I was younger. My grandma took me to singing classes to help with it.”
What? “I had no idea you used to stutter,” I said just as an equally surprised Blondie said, “I’ve never heard you stutter.”
“Yeah, well.” He rolled his eyes. “The singing actually helped. A lot.”
Blondie squeezed his bicep. “So, you’ll sing now. Pretty please.”
He laughed, and a blush tinted his cheeks. “Heck, no.”
“I’ll sing with you,” she offered, batting her eyelashes and making Ham fall into another one of those staring trances she was so good at putting him under.
I lifted my eyebrows. “You’ll sing?” I asked. “Do you sing in the shower too, Blondie?”
She shrugged. “No, but I’m just drunk enough to try anything right now.”
Oh, that was it. “Do it, Ham,” I urged.
I had no clue what was emboldening him, but he grabbed her hand and surged to his feet. “Okay, we’re doing it, then. As long as you’ll really sing with me.”
She nodded. “I said I would.”
As she followed him toward the stage, I folded my arms over my chest and sat back in my chair, ready to enjoy this show. I even pulled out my phone to take a video for future blackmail against Hamilton.
Once the man before them wrapped up his song—thank fucking God—Ham and Blondie stepped onto the stage. I wolf-whistled, making Blondie glance my way and blush. Then she grabbed Hamilton’s hand and they stepped in front of the mic together.
As the beginning chords started, she leaned in and called, “Cora! This one’s for you.”
I frowned. That bitch shouldn’t have had any part of their song. But from across the room, Cora turned and gaped up at the stage where her boyfriend and roommate were standing together and swaying lightly to the beginning chords. Then Hamilton leaned in and started singing. And shit, he was good. Really good.
Cora stood up and covered her mouth with her hands as she listened to him. Even Hart came out from behind the bar where he was working to listen. He paused by my table and asked, “What the hell? I didn’t know Quinn could sing.”
“Join the club.”
Then Blondie joined in at the chorus. I whistled again because she wasn’t half bad. She and Ham turned to watch each other as they sang, and I couldn’t contain my grin.
They wanted each other so bad.
I watched Cora for her reaction to their sizzling chemistry, but I don’t think the clueless bitch even noticed. It was more than obvious to me that they were singing to each other...not to her.
As soon as the song ended, their faces lit up with accomplishment. I think Ham would’ve gone in for a hug, but his girlfriend jumped onto the stage and tackled him, kissing him all over the face before shoving her tongue down his throat.
Blondie’s face absolutely crumpled.
Ah, hell.
I waited until she’d made her way robotically off the stage before I startled the shit out of her by wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “And that, my new chick friend,” I said into her ear, “is what we call majorly fucked up. Her mouth should not be on him right now.”
She looked up at me, her heart in her eyes. Pity ricocheted through my guts.
“I thought you didn’t have girls for friends,” she uttered as if in a daze.
“Well, I’m making an exception for you.” I led her straight up to the bar, where we’d be closer to the alcohol, and I got her rip-roaring drunk.
She tried to find Quinn in the crowd with her gaze, but his slut girlfriend was still dry-humping him, so I turned Blondie’s attention back to me before she could spot him.
Half an hour later, I had her back in the employee bathroom, bent over the toilet as I held her hair back and she emptied her stomach.
“Okay, that one was gross,” I admitted.
“S-sorry,” she sobbed, just before her stomach rebelled again.
“Don’t apologize. Just get it all up.”
So, she did. She spent the next five minutes spewing everything out of her system.
And this was actually one of the better dates I’d ever been on.
Reason number one why I didn’t bother to date. Dating sucked ass.
Fuck ’em and move on, I always said...and was probably going to keep saying, especially since the one girl I might’ve made an exception for was utterly forbidden to me.
“Thank you,” Blondie said, glancing at me from wet, bloodshot eyes. “You...you’re really not that bad of a guy after all.”
I groaned and shifted my eyes toward the ceiling. “Yeah, just...promise to never tell anyone that. I have a reputation as a douchebag to uphold.”
“I promise,” she told me seriously.
I grinned and shook my head. “You about ready to get off the floor yet?”
She nodded but didn’t move.
“Up and at ’em, Blondie.” I stood and reached down for her arm.
And that’s when Gamble appeared in the doorway.
“What’s going on?” he asked suspiciously.