The Girl in the Love Song (Lost Boys 1)

“Sure, thanks.”

I scooted from the chair to sit in the soft sand. Miller and Ronan procured more blankets from the Shack, along with hotdogs, chips, and ingredients to make s’mores.

The five of us talked and laughed and ate, Holden louder than the rest of us, Ronan the quietest. I watched him and Shiloh closely without letting on, but if there was something between them, it didn’t show. Their entire conversations that night consisted of trading barbs and sarcasm.

Holden leaned into me. “It’s shameless how they flirt, isn’t it?”

“Flirt? They hate each other,” I whispered back.

“Do they?” He rubbed his narrow chin thoughtfully. “I guess it depends on your perspective.”

Before I could ask him what that meant, he turned to Miller. “Hey, superstar. Stop being so stingy. It’s against some law to have a perfect night, a beach bonfire but no music. Play.”

Shiloh and I clapped our hands and whistled, and then Holden joined in.

“Okay, okay,” Miller said. “I didn’t want to be that asshole.”

“Too late,” Ronan and Holden said together, and clinked beer bottle to flask.

Miller flipped them the bird and set his guitar on his lap. His fingers took their places on the guitar as if they’d been born there, and he launched into an acoustic cover of “Take Me to Church” by Hozier.

Miller’s voice wasn’t as deep as Hozier’s, but the rough-around-the-edges growl Miller had made the sex-drenched lyrics even sexier. I sat straight, eyes on the fire, even as every molecule in my body wanted to turn to Miller playing beside me. Wanted to crawl into his lap, tear the guitar out of his hands and kiss him hard and deep. I wanted to taste those lyrics on his tongue, drink them down, and drown in Miller’s talent, the essence of him that made him so extraordinary.

God what is wrong with me?

When the pendulum swung, it slammed hard. Miller’s kiss all those months ago had woken up something deep in me. Changed me. Changed the love I had for him, altering its chemical structure to include my body, my hormones, my need. Months apart had only fermented it until it was strong and potent. I wanted Miller, and the fear I had that we’d ruin our friendship had taken a back seat to basic, red-blooded lust.

The song ended, and the small group stared for a moment. Then Shiloh fanned herself. “I said, goddamn.”

“If you could bottle that and sell it at sex shops, you’d make a killing,” Holden said.

“Not in the plan,” Miller said.

“There’s a plan?” I asked, risking a glance at him.

“Evelyn is sort of…helping me.”

“Oh right. I saw her vlog.” I smiled. “Slightly better than my little YouTube channel.”

“Your video is what started it all,” Miller said. “Whatever it is.”

“It is you getting all the recognition you deserve.”

He met my eyes, and I sank into them, the rest of the world falling away…until I heard a loud sniff. I glanced up to see the others staring at us, Holden pretending to dab his eyes.

“Shut up,” Miller said, “or else the next song I play will be something from Nickelback.”

Everyone groaned, and the mood lightened. Miller played a variety of songs, but none of them his own. The tension in the air was blown away by the ocean wind and filled, instead, with his voice.

The night deepened, more beer was drunk, and the others slid from their chairs to huddle under blankets in the sand. Shiloh shivered, and Ronan took off his jean jacket with the faux lamb’s wool collar. Wordlessly, he took the blanket off her shoulders, draped his jacket over her, and then tucked the blanket back around her.

“Thank you,” she said grudgingly. Softly. I noticed something like a truce pass between them. He sat beside her, and by the time Miller ended his song, her cheek was pillowed against Ronan’s arm.

Happiness and sadness warred within me. Happy for Shiloh and sad that I’d grown so far apart from everyone in the last few months. I’d retreated to nurse my bruised heart and had missed so much.

“It’s late,” Miller said, making to put his guitar away.

A chorus of protests went around.