Starting from Scratch (Starting from 2)

We ended the show on a serious high. It only seemed right to celebrate, but I wasn’t going to do it hanging out at the bar after the show. I had other things on my mind.

I towel-dried my damp hair, then yanked my sweaty T-shirt over my head and reached for a clean one just as Charlie walked in. He held my gaze before congratulating us on what he thought was our best show ever.

“They’re still calling your names out there. Drinks and food are on the house. Oh, and there’s a basketball person who wants to meet you, a contestant from The Bachelor, and a Kardashian. Don’t ask me which one. I couldn’t get a good look in the dark. Whatever you do, don’t disappear. There are a couple of critics out there too. We could use the positive press.”

“Where do you think we’re goin’, Char? We’re all gonna soak up the love. Is Gray at the bar?” Justin asked, pulling his damp T-shirt over his head.

I listened to their exchange as I gathered my belongings, zipped my duffel bag and tried to ignore that my pulse hadn’t slowed. I thought I was pretty good at blocking out sensory overload, but I didn’t want to miss anything Charlie said. I felt an almost magnetic pull to be close to him, which was odd because he was talking about shit I had zero interest in, like A-list celebrities, tequila shots, and some music critic who’d given us a bad review.

The rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins didn’t help. It made me feel invincible and horny at the same time. I didn’t trust that I could keep my hands to myself ’cause the urge to go caveman on him was strong. I wanted to cage him against the wall, pull his hands over his head and shove my tongue down his throat. I wanted him to beg me to fuck him and—

Charlie looked my way just then, and somehow I knew we were both thinking the same thing.

I picked up my guitar case, gave a quick wave, and pushed open the back door leading to the parking lot. I typed him a quick message, then hurried to my truck on the far end of the lot facing a wall covered in ivy. I tossed my things into the cab behind the driver’s seat, hopped behind the wheel, and revved the engine. I checked my phone to see if he’d replied just as a new “Where the fuck did you go?” text from Tegan lit my screen. I thought about how to respond to that one when someone opened the passenger-side door and jumped inside.

“I’m here,” Charlie announced, slamming the door.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” He twisted in his seat to face me and smiled. “My cardio game isn’t what it should be, so give me a second to catch my breath and—”

“C’mere.” I hooked my finger at him and cupped his neck before crashing my mouth over his.

All the pent-up energy I’d been holding inside came pouring out of me like a sieve. I tilted my head to deepen the kiss and slipped my tongue between his lips, groaning when he wrapped his arms over my shoulders and met me halfway. He sighed into the connection, licking my jaw and nibbling my chin before letting me take over again. I pulled back slightly for air and rested my forehead on his.

“Wow,” he said in a breathy voice. “I feel so…”

“Hmm?” I brushed my stubbled chin over his smooth-shaven cheek and kissed his nose. “How do you feel?”

“Lucky to be with you.”

I widened my eyes in surprise. I didn’t expect that. “Me too. Um…we have to get out of here before they come looking for us. Where do you want to go?”

“We can go to your place or mine. Just head down Wilshire. Maybe we’ll find something romantic to do on the way.”

I tugged a wayward curl playfully and grinned before putting the truck in reverse. “You’re a weirdo. I can’t tell if you’re punkin’ me or not.”

“I’m not. I’m a hopeless romantic having a moment after consuming a ridiculous amount of french fries and two gin and tonics.” Charlie fastened his seat belt, then twisted to face me.

“So you’re buzzed.”

“I’m high on life. That show was amazing tonight. I can’t believe anyone could ever question Zero’s chemistry. It’s off the charts. Musically and personally you’re just…sublime. Don’t roll your eyes at me. I know what I’m talking about. Oh—turn left here,” he directed, gesturing wildly.

“Who says we’re not sublime?”

“Nelson fucking Cormer. He’s the guy who tried to compare Zero to an ’80s hair band.”

I let out an amused half laugh. “Oh yeah, I remember. Sounds like something my dad would say.”

“Well, he’s wrong and he’d better back the hell up and get ready to eat crow. I bet he was there tonight. I wonder what he’ll say.” He tapped his forefinger on his chin. “Probably something annoying.”