Sweet Ache

Chapter 12

QUINLAN

On Saturday night I glance over at Luke as we drive, the lights of the city flashing across his face. I’ve had a good time so far—cocktails, dinner, and now off to some event he’s kept a secret but that he’s super excited about. I get the feeling that he thinks wherever our next destination is, it will be the coup de grâce in impressing me so that I fall madly in love with him.

I’m trying, I really am, to feel something more for him, but I’m still getting the platonic vibe on my end. I promised myself that I’d push Hawkin and the dark promise of his words that have filled my dreams with different variations of their suggestions from my mind and not let him interfere with the possibility that tonight holds.

Luke must sense my quiet observation because he glances over and smiles, hand reaching out to rest on my bare knee. I smile tightly and look out of the windshield, silently chastising myself for my indifference. I should feel something. Our skin-on-skin contact should make my blood hum and cause that delicious anticipatory ache in my core. I should be feeling that fluttery feeling in my stomach and be thankful I wore the lacy, barely there g-string panties with matching bra for him to gasp at later in the evening when he undresses me.

Or when he rips them off me.

But right now I’m thinking I could have worn my period panties and felt the same way as I do now. Not a good sign at all.

I mean he’s been a gentleman in all respects of the word: opening car doors, comfortable conversation, laughter, and flirty banter. He’s the guy you think you want, but hell if I can get into him.

And lamely I kind of resent him for it right now. Call my resentment being moody or estrogen-fueled misplaced anger but I need him to give me all of those feelings so that I can forget about Hawkin. Shit, I even played hooky and feigned an illness so I could skip the lecture on Thursday in an attempt to not sabotage my chances tonight.

And yet here I sit beside him, enjoying myself, having a good time, but I feel like I’m hanging out with a friend, not a potential horizontal cohabitant.

Luke squeezes my knee. “You figure it out yet?” he asks, all but bouncing with excitement.

“I have no clue.” I laugh because his enthusiasm is really adorable.

“Well, one of my sponsors this year is Verbz—the company that makes those high-end headphones. Anyway, there’s this big benefit tonight to raise money for Alzheimer’s research—a huge lineup of some of my favorite bands—and so they gave me tickets.”

My smile comes naturally while my synapses start to fire as I try to place a comment that Layla made the other night in our drunken state about how she’d love to see Bent play this weekend at a local concert. And there’s no way my luck can be so shitty that my date is taking me to see the man I’m wishing he was, perform.

“Sounds like fun—who’s performing?” I’m on a fishing expedition; I just hope he doesn’t notice.

“Shit, you name it, they’re performing. The D-Bags, Bending Cupid, the Mighty Storm, Black Falcon, and my fav band is, like, the main headliner: Bent.”

There you have it. How did I know he was going to say Hawkin’s band? I smile enthusiastically and say something about how exciting and what great bands while my mind rationalizes that it’s a concert where thousands of people will attend. I’ll be so far away from Hawkin that I should be able to keep my libidinous thoughts under control with so much distance between us.

“And even better,” he continues as we pull into the Staples Center, “we have backstage passes to the postshow meet and greet for the Bent guys.”

And the hits just keep on coming.

Luke keeps talking incessantly, chattering away about his favorite songs of each band as well as random trivia about each one as we make our way into the arena. Each step closer we get, my anticipation increases. Those fluttery feelings I was missing when he touched my knee are finally making their presence known and it’s all because of the man awaiting us inside.

“You’re being so quiet, is everything okay?” he asks, concern lacing his voice as he stops me in the darkened shadows of the facility.

“Yes! I’m just so surprised by all of this.” All the while I chastise myself for being so caught up in my own head and so selfish that I’m not doing the one thing I promised myself I would, leave Hawkin behind for the night.

And so maybe that’s why Luke catches me off guard when he leans forward and brushes his mouth against mine. My startled gasp parts my lips and he mistakes the action for wanting more, and he takes complete advantage of my reaction by slipping his tongue gently between them. I react in reflex, not really urging him on but not being a dead fish either, because I’m not exactly sure how I’m supposed to react short of pushing him away. He’s been nothing but polite and I don’t want to ruin the evening with him but at the same time don’t want to encourage him either.

The kiss ends quickly because being the gentleman he is, he keeps the first one as a way to gauge my interest and I’m hoping by my lack of enthusiastic reciprocation he might get the hint. A girl can hope anyway, because the thing is, Luke’s kiss was soft and taunting; it should call to my desire on every level … but the fluttering I feel at the mere thought of Hawkin just doesn’t compare to anything with Luke.

Luke smiles softly, a silent affirmation that yes, we did just kiss, and then links his fingers with mine as we enter the arena and prepare to hear the bands.

The concert so far has been great. Our seats are incredible, located just a few rows back from center stage. I’ve been able to push Hawkin from my mind and enjoy Luke. I’ve laughed with him, danced with him in the confines of our close quarters, and sang at the top of my lungs to the lyrics of each set. But now shouts of increasing volume pierce the air as the crowd waits for the final band to take the stage, Bent.

And I can’t help that I purposefully occupy my hands so Luke can’t hold one of them as I prepare for the visceral reaction I expect to have to the sight of Hawkin. As the anticipation builds I can feel my legs leaning forward to try to coax him to come into view, my need to lay eyes on him increasing with each passing second like an addict knowing her next fix is just within reach.

And then his voice comes through the speakers as a single spotlight lights up the empty stage. A frenzy ensues all around us as women begin shrieking in epic decibels so that I can’t hear his voice but can feel it somehow. The crowd must feel the same way because the shrieks calm just in time for him to hit the first chorus.

You killed my heart.

You snuffed it out.

You stole my hope.

He sings the notes to their biggest hit, “Stolen,” and even though the fangirls are on an ecstatic high, the power of his voice a cappella silences them. Goose bumps chase over my skin despite the stifling heat of the arena. I’ve heard the song a hundred times on the radio and yet the raw emotion when he sings, like he’s scraping the words from his core, captivates me.

The lights flood the stage in a blaze of brightness, and Hawkin stands there, head down, foot tapping, a striking profile dressed in dark clothing against all of the light. He slowly lifts his head to end the chorus and the guys kick in with their instruments.

And I’m lost.

I know he’s entertaining thousands and has no clue I’m even here and yet I feel, as he peers into what I’m sure is a mass of blinding light on his end, that he’s looking straight into me.

I tell myself to move, to dance and not act like I’ve just been struck by lightning, because as much as I’m electrified by him on stage in front of me, I did come here with Luke. And I might be a bitch for wanting Hawkin while I’m on a date with someone else but Luke’s a good guy, we’re just not right for each other.

“He has an incredible voice, doesn’t he?” Luke says above the music, breath hot against my ear. I nod at him with a smile on my face before making the concerted effort to not just stand there.

Soon enough the song ends with a melancholy note in Hawke’s voice that’s almost haunting as his voice rounds out the solo. The crowd erupts into a riotous frenzy all around.

“Los Angeles!” His voice booms into the microphone. “How the fuck are you?” If I thought the screams were loud before, they are deafening now. He chuckles suggestively into the mic and—I’m sure like every other female in this arena—I feel like it caresses my skin and wraps hold of me. Screams of “I’d rather be fucking you” ring out and I bristle at the comments while he plays right into them. “Hey, I’m all for that babe but I’ve got a few more songs to sing before my mouth can be otherwise occupied.”

Vince walks over to him and hands him a beer and they tap the necks together while more women scream, plus a few bras and panties hit the stage. I scoff at the desperation to be Hawkin’s just-for-the-night-girl and wonder why the hell am I getting miffed at something he sees all the time. I mean shit, how can I even think he still wants me when he can have his pick of women.

I’d rather be eating you out instead….

His words rush back and give me a slight feeling of advantage since at least I know he was talking directly to me. This sense of sudden insecurity and inadequacy I feel is ridiculous.

“Settle down ladies, the men in the house need to retain their hearing so they can hear you screaming their names later if you catch my drift.” He gives that lazy, lopsided smirk that makes my body respond to him instantly, even though I know better than to want him.

“Hey, Hawke, that man back there,” Gizmo says into the mic, pointing with his drumsticks from behind his set, “says thank you.”

The crowd laughs as Hawkin motions with his hands for everyone to settle down. “On a serious note, I want to thank you all for coming here tonight for a cause that’s near and dear to my heart. Your tickets will benefit research to help our grandparents and parents and hopefully find a cure for this ugly disease before it can affect us. So thank you so very much for coming tonight and helping us donate all of the proceeds to this worthy cause.”

The crowd erupts in cheers.

“Okay, so Noel and Kellan and Wethers already sang their asses off for you, now you ready for Bent to end the night with a bang?” The screams erupt again. “C’mon boys, let’s rock!”

My ears are still ringing as we fight our way opposite the crowd leaving the arena. Luke holds my hand as he leads me backstage and into a holding room of sorts where a few other ecstatic fans are practically vibrating with anticipation.

I’m antsy too but for completely different reasons.

Luke is rocking on his heels like a little kid and it really is endearing to witness. “Oh my God,” he says, pointing down a hallway where a mob of men are walking. “That’s Black Falcon…. Noel, Riff …” His voice fades off as he smiles sheepishly. “Do you follow them?”

I shake my head no. “They were really good, though…. I’ll probably start now.” The comment earns me a huge grin.

Chatter in the room pulls our attention back and when I look up, I’m staring straight into Vince’s eyes from across the room. And then a slow, sly smile slides across his lips before he shakes his head and looks away. It’s only a momentary connection before he focuses his attention on the two fans in front of him but even in that quick glance, there’s so much exchanged between us: What the hell? You’re with him?

I’m confused by the whole exchange but luckily Luke caught none of it that I can tell.

We wait as Vince makes his way around the room. I fidget restlessly, nervous that Vince is going to acknowledge me and then I’ll be left to explain to Luke that I’ve met him before when I’ve made no mention of it tonight. I track his progress and when it comes to us, he stares a beat longer than normal. “Hi,” he finally says.

“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.

I quickly avert my gaze and hustle down the hallway where I ask a roadie on the way where the nearest bathroom is. I’m confused and sick of the tumultuous feelings that are so foreign to me, the back and forth between sense and lust, head and heart, desire and prudence.

I go through a doorway that leads me into a dressing area of sorts and see the partially opened bathroom door across the room. I have my hand on it, pushing it open timidly, making sure that it’s not occupied when all of a sudden a larger hand slams the door open from behind me.

A startled gasp falls from my lips as I’m jolted forward from the connection of our bodies. He pushes his way into the bathroom and then slams the door behind me.

I know I should be scared shitless, yet not an ounce of fear falls over me because every attuned nerve in my body senses it’s Hawkin. It’s the heady buzz and fluttering in my stomach that I get every time he’s near that gives it away.

This. This feeling is what I should feel for Luke, but don’t.

“Do you have any idea how hot you are?” He growls the words in my ear, the heat of his breath against my skin. “I can’t take my eyes off you. You want me just as bad and yet you don’t want him to know that you’re going home with me tonight do you?”

Every part of me lights up in relief at his statement but at the same time I can’t just up and leave my date. I may be a bitch for wanting Hawkin while I’m with Luke but I’m not that cold-hearted. “I can’t,” I tell him, voice strained with the desire I feel coursing through me, an obvious tell to him how I feel.

“Can’t and want are two different things,” he says, “and I’m not accepting a no.”

I shake my head to contradict him, the “No” about to pass over my lips as he spins me around, backing me up not so gently against the door, and before I can even meet Hawkin’s eyes, his mouth is on mine. I don’t have time to think, only react, and oh how I react.

We become a mass of hands groping, lips bruising, and tongues tasting in a savage union of frustrated lust. Nothing is static for more than a beat as we try to feel our way into each others’ lives. His hand squeezing my ass. My nails digging into his biceps. Teeth nipping lips followed by not so soothing licks because we are so desperate to claim and tempt and take.

All I can think of is more—all I want is more. I know minutes must pass but I swear it feels like fleeting seconds before he drags his lips from mine so that he can stare into my eyes, his labored breaths panting over my lips, swollen from his kiss. “You can tell me no all you want, Q. You can push me, pull my hair … bite me even … but you can’t deny that you want me as much as I want you.”

His words are an incendiary match to the emotions simmering within me. I want to act on them, but he’s just annihilated my wits with his mouth—words and kisses. I shake my head side to side as I try to process, not realizing that he thinks I’m disagreeing. Before I can speak he leans in closer and says, “Make me believe you don’t want me.”

In a heartbeat his mouth is back on mine with a volatile intensity that even if I wanted to resist, I wouldn’t be able to. My body tingles with need to the point where I feel like I can never get enough of him.

“Hawke?” Axe’s muted voice breaks through our libidinous haze.

Hawkin swears out a curse, his forehead against mine. He removes his hand from where it was wrapped in my hair and forces my chin up as we separate.

“In the head,” he yells out, irritated at being interrupted.

“You okay? Vince is asking. They need you back at the meet and greet.”

“Yeah man, just zipping up. Tell him to hold his fucking horses, I’ll be right out.”

Hawke drops his head forward, eyes squeezed shut, hand still holding my hair hostage as we stand here in this suspended state of time. It’s not long but just enough for reason to start seeping through the haze of what I’m doing.

And the women from earlier flash in my mind, but then Hawkin does something so unexpected and yet seemingly intimate that the images dissipate. He takes the tip of his nose and runs it from my collar bone up the column of my throat and to beneath my ear.

“You’re coming to the after party. I don’t care how, I don’t care why, but I need more of you than this. You want me and then you don’t want me and frankly I don’t give a flying fuck anymore what your reasons are, because I want you. And I guarantee that once I have you, there will be no more back-and-forth because I’ll leave your body so fucking high on me there will be no other option but to want more of me again.”

I draw in a ragged breath as I try to take in his words that are erotic and possessive and downright assuming all at once but holy hell am I a trembling ball of need. And yet I say nothing.

He gently pulls my hair so that when he leans back he’s looking straight into my eyes with unfettered intensity and unbridled desire expressed in his stormy irises. “It’s taking everything I have right now not to tell Axe to fuck off, to tell them to wait so I can lift up this sexy skirt of yours, pull aside the panties you wore for him to discover, and finger-fuck you breathless. Claim you first. Show you just a taste of what we could be like together.” He leans forward and tugs on my bottom lip gently with his teeth until they scrape along it and it falls free. “But I want to take my time with you Quinlan, edge you out so that by the time you come the only sound on your lips is my name, the only thought in your head is me, and the only thing you want filling you is this.” He presses his dick that’s hard and straining against the denim of his jeans into my hip.

My heart is pounding, and I gasp out when he roughly yanks down the neckline of my tank so that the lace of my bra is exposed. The possessive growl in the back of his throat is seductive and arousing and hotter than hell in so many ways. His eyes meet mine, then he lowers his head, fingers pulling the lace down farther before his mouth dips to the top part of my breast. I open my mouth again, the soft mewl of need falling from my lips as the warmth of his mouth glides over my skin.

His mouth sucks gently at first and then a little harder. I lean my head back against the door, my body zinging with so many different definitions of need that I can’t focus on any one part at once. I’m losing myself under the haze of desire when all of a sudden he releases me, all contact lost so that a gasp escapes from my lips at the sudden loss of his warmth.

The electricity remains though.

I stare at him, his jaw tight in physical restraint, biceps tense as his fists clench, and I see so many things that contradict one another I’m not sure what to think.

But thinking is overrated when desire can be in control.

“That’s so he knows that you’re mine,” he says, glancing down to my chest, intensity etched in his eyes. “And so you don’t forget it.” He takes another step back and turns to place his hand on the doorknob. “Wait a minute before you head back,” he says with his head down, “and don’t look so surprised. You knew this was coming.” He opens the door.

“Hawke.” His name tumbles brokenly from my mouth, a sound of desperation.

He looks at me, that devil-may-care smirk lighting up his face in triumph. “That just proved me right,” he says with a shake of his head, and then leaves me behind with my mouth lax, cheeks flushed, and the knowledge that I just showed him I want him as much as he wants me.

I startle when the door shuts and the sound echoes around the tiled bathroom. But nothing rivals the pounding of my heart in my ears—or the juncture of my thighs—because the man just lit my fuse with his words and walked out without helping it catch flame.

I brace my hands on the counter next to me, needing a minute to catch my breath and collect myself. My mind whirls while my body still burns from his touch. I lift my head up and catch sight of myself in the mirror and can’t tear my eyes away from what I see.

My tank is still pulled down below my boob, a dark red mark at the edge of my bra’s lace from his mouth, but it’s the look on my face that holds my attention. My cheeks are flush, my lips are swollen, and my eyes are more alive than I’ve ever seen them. I stare at my reflection for a moment, feeling like I’m looking at a stranger. Hawkin is the reason I look like this. The attraction between us is irresistible and combustible.

I force myself to look away, to straighten myself up—my shirt, my smeared lipstick, my disheveled hair—before taking a deep breath to steady the parts of me that feel alive for the first time in way too long.

And as I make my way back to Luke, I know. I know that I won’t be able to resist Hawkin’s pull on me any longer, that it’s stupid to deny myself. To not take the chance to see where this may lead us because when all is said and done, we regret only the chances we didn’t take, not the ones we did and failed at.

Make it count. My motto runs through my head and makes me question my morality between what is right and what I want.

I reenter the meet and greet with that resolve in the forefront of my mind and smile softly at Luke, suddenly cognizant of the length of time I’ve been gone.

“You okay?” Concern blankets Luke’s face as guilt lances through me. Can he tell that I’ve been kissed senseless? I don’t think so but I swear to God I feel like my hidden hickey is as visible as a scarlet letter.

“Yeah. Sorry. Got lost,” I ramble and force myself to stop so that my lie isn’t over-the-top obvious. I keep my eyes focused on him although I swear I can feel the weight of Hawkin’s stare as Luke puts his arm around my waist and pulls me into him. My immediate reaction is to wriggle from his touch but I know I can’t do it.

“It’s okay. Perfect timing,” he says. “We’re next.”

If he only knew.

I make a noncommittal sound and give him a forced smile. I feel his body vibrate with excitement even before I hear the voice over my shoulder.

“Hey, man, how are you doing tonight? Thanks for coming out!”

“Great show, Hawkin. You guys were incredible. That new song was killer.” Luke falls all over himself as he tries to connect with Hawkin, and I wonder if I’m the only one who notices the tightness in his smile and arrogant lift of his eyebrows as he assesses Luke.

“Thanks. And you are?” Hawkin asks, reaching his left hand out to Luke. And it hits me. Hawkin’s trying to get his arm off my waist.

“Sorry.” Luke releases me to shake Hawke’s hand eagerly. I watch that smirk return to Hawke’s face as he gets the reaction he wanted from him. “Luke Mason, and this here is—”

“Luke Mason?” Hawke says, head tilting, eyes narrowing as Luke nods his head. “As in Indy Luke Mason?”

What the …? He told me he didn’t follow racing and yet he knows Luke’s name?

In my periphery I can see Luke’s smile widen to epic proportions at the notion that Hawkin knows who he is but I’m watching Hawke and not sure I like the predatory look he has in his eyes. “Yeah man, you follow racing?” The hope in Luke’s voice is endearing.

“Not much,” Hawke says with a shake of his head, “but I was just recently checking it out. Met someone that loves it … so Google was my friend.”

The admission surprises me. So while I’ve been cyberstalking him, he’s been finding out more about what, my brother or my family? At least I know that he’s curious enough to look.

“Well, if you ever want to check out a race …”

“Thanks.” Hawke’s eyes shift ever so subtly to mine. “And you are?”

“Qui—”

“Oh! I’m so rude. Sorry. This is Quinlan Westin.” Luke shakes his head and places his hand on my back again, which doesn’t go unnoticed.

Hawke reaches out to shake my hand, eyes lingering and hands held a beat longer than needed. “Hi, Quinlan,” he says, rolling my name over his tongue. “Unique name. So you’re into racers over rockers huh?” He raises his eyebrows in challenge causing me to shift uncomfortably but ready to play the game.

“It takes quite a lot to impress me.” It’s the only answer I can think of and I mean it as a warning, to back off in front of Luke, but all I get in response is that arrogant raise of an eyebrow.

He flashes me that lightning-quick grin. “I assure you rockers know how to leave their mark with more than just their music.” He lifts his eyes to mine, reinforcing the innuendo in case I didn’t catch it. A moment of awkward silence passes between the three of us.

“Hey, Luke,” Hawke says, shifting gears and patting him on the shoulder as I try to figure out what kind of game he’s playing now. “We’re about to go to an after party at a club—the bands and a few others—do you guys want to come along?”

The devil inside me sags in respite knowing I’ve just been given the door to walk through to claim the pleasurable promise Hawkin threatened in the bathroom, while the angel cringes knowing if Luke accepts, he’s walking us into a lion’s den of disappointment that I don’t want to be the culprit of.

And yet I don’t think there’s any way to prevent either thing from happening.

“No way! Really?” Luke’s fingers tighten on my hip, and my eyes immediately flash to see if Hawkin notices. He doesn’t. He’s too busy whipping out his testosterone-laced gauntlet to throw down at Luke’s feet.

“Yep,” he says. “Axe, my security, will get you all the info. I’ve got to finish up here.” He lifts his chin, indicating the next set of people in line to greet him. “We’ll see you there though.”

“Definitely,” Luke says.

Hawkin starts to walk away and I’m far from oblivious to the look shared between Hawke and Vince before he turns back and looks at the both of us again, eyes shifting back and forth between us. “So you guys are a couple, right?”

“First date,” Luke says proudly.

Hawke nods his head slowly as if he’s mulling something over. “Well, you should definitely head on over to the club, have some drinks, relax, and party a bit, and you just might win her over.” Hawke flashes a knowing grin at Luke that I sense means something more.

“Thanks man, we will.”

Hawke chuckles as he turns his back to walk away, and I swear I hear him say, “Then again you might just lose her to a rock star.”

“What?” Obviously Luke hears it too. His body stiffens beside me and I can tell by the condescending tilt of Hawke’s head as he looks back at us that he meant every word he said.

“Sorry man, we’re big on bets here within the band,” Hawke says, waving over to Vince and Gizmo before turning back to us. “Making them is just kind of a habit. No harm, no foul.”

So why am I screaming foul?