Holy shit.
The drummer was Jude.
I did a double take, my jaw dropping. I’d just assumed that he played guitar in the band. Or maybe keyboard. But drums? He didn’t seem the type, except… right now, he kind of did. It was like seeing him in a whole new light. A really sexy light.
He had on tight black pants that were ripped at the knee. His blazer was black and open in the front… and he was shirtless under it. That seemed completely unlike him—Mason was the one who spent most of his time shirtless in the suite—but good God, he looked hot. Was that really the kind, intelligent, and funny man I roomed with?
Mason smoothed my hair away from my face and his warm breath caressed my ear. “He’s good, isn’t he?”
“Amazing,” I said. And then I couldn’t help it. “He looks amazing, too.” Probably that was a thought I should share with a female friend, but there weren’t any around, so Mason would have to do.
He chuckled. “He wears eyeliner when he’s on stage, you know. Or should I say guyliner?” His legs shifted under me and I resettled myself into a more comfortable position while Mason continued speaking in a low voice. “If you want to throw your bra up there, I’d be more than happy to unhook it for you.”
I turned to respond, and the back of my head rested against his shoulder. “So nice that you’re always ready to lend a helping hand.”
Mason’s arms snaked around my waist, and it felt like a seatbelt. A hard seatbelt corded with muscle. “For you, anything,” he said in my ear.
A harried-looking waitress in her thirties arrived with the pitcher of beer that Mason had ordered. Since he had his hands full, Parker poured and handed us glasses. We toasted to Jude and his band and then all three of us grimaced when we drank. The beer was weak and warm.
Mason downed half his glass but complained about it anyway. “Let’s order something else.”
I shook my head. “Don’t bother, the drinks here suck.”
Parker raised an eyebrow. “I thought this was your first time here?”
“It is, but we passed by the bar on the way in.”
“So?” Mason said.
“So, one bartender wasn’t drawing a pint right, the other was shaking a drink that was supposed to be stirred, and the area behind the counter was a huge mess.”
“How do you know all that?” Parker asked.
“I have eyes. And I bartend at my uncle’s place in the summers.”
Mason shifted his legs under me. “Chicks who tend bar are hot.”
“Yeah, and they love being referred to as chicks, too.”
“Touché,” he said while Parker actually laughed. It was soft, but I heard it, and I shot him a smile.
The band finished the number they’d been blasting out, and the lead singer announced they were taking a break.
“Excellent,” Mason said. A guy at a nearby table stood up, and Mason reached one long arm out and snagged his chair, dragging it over despite protests from the other table. I started to transfer to it, but Mason held me in place, his nose nuzzling my neck. “That’s not for you.”
A moment later, Jude appeared, looking more animated than I’d ever seen him. His face was flushed and there was a gleam in his eye as he sat down next to me.
“That was amazing,” I said, meaning it. “I didn’t know you played the drums, too.”
Jude started to respond and then frowned. “I’ve got a crap ton of drumsticks back at the suite. Haven’t you ever noticed?”
I thought back. “Once I saw you doing some stretches with them before you took out your guitar. I thought all musicians must warm up that way.”
“Some do, usually the ones who play drums.”
“She probably just thought you were a wannabe drummer,” Mason said.
Remembering something else Mason had said, I leaned forward, squinting at Jude. “You’re not wearing eyeliner. Mason said you were.”
Both men laughed.
“Mason says a lot of things. You might want to be careful which ones you believe.” Jude held out his arms. “My turn.”
I didn’t know what he meant, but Mason did. He transferred me over as easily as if he’d been passing a plate to Jude. Then I was sitting on the musician’s lap. I could feel the bare skin of his chest at my back.
Parker, who I didn’t even realize had left, returned with a whiskey for Jude.
“Where’s mine?” Mason demanded.
“You can have one when you learn to play an instrument,” Jude told him.
I took a sip of my beer, not liking the watered-down taste, but it seemed to be a good night for letting loose. I’d been balanced on the lap of one hot man and now another, and I wanted to enjoy the feeling without getting in my head. The week was over. Classes were done. Now was the time for drinking, loud music, and hot men. Fortunately, there were a lot of those around.