Sweet Ache

“Hi,” we both say at the same time and Luke apologizes for talking over me.

Vince chuckles and looks me in the eyes again. “Sorry for staring,” he says, “you remind me of a girl I know named Trixie.”

Inwardly I sag in relief at his comment, a nervous chuckle escaping my lips as I avert my gaze, and mutter, “No.” And thankfully Luke takes over, oblivious to the awkwardness of the moment, and begins to rain praise on Vince over his bass-playing skills. I wonder and yet am at the same time glad that Vince didn’t call me out on knowing him or the rest of the band. I’m curious over it but tune their conversation out and glance back down the hallway where the Black Falcon boys had left, not sure what I’m looking for.

An escape? For Hawkin? Not for Hawkin?

Whatever it is I don’t find it but when I look back into the room, there he is. Hawkin has on a white shirt that’s sticking slightly to him as if he just got out of the shower and rushed to dry off. His hair’s wet and a beer is in one hand while an arm is slung casually around the shoulders of a woman next to him.

Every instinct within me hones in on Hawke.

The woman stands on her toes and kisses him haphazardly on the side of his mouth, her body rubbing up against him way more than the action deserves, and I see hussy written all over her. I hope he sees it too.

Of course he sees it. That’s why his arm’s wrapped around her.

How was I so stupid to convince myself that he wasn’t a player? That he really wanted me? That he would take my no-nonsense complicated over her no-hassle-spread-her-legs simplicity?

Her other friend sidles up next to them and they place something in his hand with flirty little giggles that are so pathetic they make my ovaries cringe. He looks down at his hand and arches his eyebrows. He says something that earns him another set of giggles that not surprisingly make their proffered cleavage jiggle up and down.

I’m pretty sure it’s a hotel key with an offer for double your pleasure, double your fun. Ugh.

Hell, most of the time I’m game for anything and would never judge someone else but something about the setting, about the random offer, about the whole damn situation is rather disturbing to me. Maybe it’s the fact that knowing the person for a whole five minutes before sex is offered is of importance. Call me crazy.

I’m distracted from the eye-roll-worthy display when Luke puts his hand on my waist and pulls me into his side. I didn’t even realize that Vince had moved on to the next fan. “That was so fucking cool!” he exclaims squeezing me in tighter. He starts rambling on and on and I look up to watch the animation on his features as he talks.

And then his voice falls quiet when he notices the lead singer mere feet away from us. I follow his gaze to find mine locked with Hawkin’s.

I swear my breath is stolen momentarily; all I know is I have to tell myself to draw in air from the quizzical look he gives me, a mixture of surprise, disbelief, and you’re with him?

Luke lifts his chin to Hawkin in an I’m-a-cool-guy kind of way and Hawke pulls his eyes from mine and acknowledges him with his own head tilt. He glances back to me and I just shake my head subtly as my eyes flicker to the road-hos beside him, my lips pursed in judgment. I know he reads the disdain in my eyes and yet his arms remain on the women.

As our connection is broken, one last glare passes between us—I know why I’m glaring but am unsure why he’s pissed—when one of them asks for an autograph. I watch the three of them separate as Hawkin reaches for his beer with one hand and slides the hotel room card in his back pocket, which of course begs my eyes to take in the way the denim frames his ass.

He grabs the Sharpie offered and smiles big for the camera phone as he signs across the top of the woman’s right breast. I watch, not surprised by the behavior of some of the women as he moves on from group to group greeting them, because it’s not like I haven’t seen women throw themselves at a man before. The difference is this time it’s not my dad or my brother, it’s the man I want.

Or rather the man I wanted before I saw this behavior. I get it’s part of his job, but after Delta Sig and now the boobsie-twins, I’m determined to keep telling my hormones to quit humming over him.

I watch another woman offer herself to him, dignity obviously a foreign concept to her, and I look up to Luke. “I’m going to run to the bathroom really quick.”

“What?” His eyes are wide and he shakes his head back and forth. “You might miss meeting Hawkin Play!”

“I’ll be back in time,” I tell him, secretly hoping I won’t. “Don’t worry, all that beer is hitting me all of a sudden.”

I can see an internal tug-of-war going on within Luke. “Let me take you.”

And I realize he’s trying to be a gentleman and take me even though it means possibly missing meeting Hawke. Why can’t I feel that buzz for this man and his considerate ways? Maybe it’s one of those things that takes time when it comes to him. I wish I believed that.

“No. Really. I’ll be fine. I don’t want you to miss meeting Hawke in case I don’t make it back in time.”

“You sure?” His hesitancy speaks volumes of his character as a man.

“I’m sure.”

When I start to walk away, Luke calls my name. “Quin?”

I turn to find his mouth meeting mine. It’s a soft gentle brush of lips that he takes a bit further before stepping back. “Thanks for tonight. I’m having so much fun.”

I smile gently at him and nod my head, wishing I felt something more for him than just platonic warmth. I turn to go and in my periphery see Hawkin standing there, ignoring the women at his side to watch me.