Thomas & January (Sleepless 2)

“Sorry,” I said, lifting my hand but kept my mouth at her ear. “Can you see him?” I asked her, changing direction.

She turned her head to the left slightly then the right. “No, he’s chatting up some broad with huge boobs. Totally immersed. In conversation, not her boobs,” she said, clarifying.

I laughed in her ear, sending goose bumps up her neck. “I forgot what I was going to say now. You can’t be funny when I’m trying to be sexy with you.”

“Don’t you know?” she asked me, her throat vibrating as she laughed. “Funny is sexy.”

“Of course, everyone knows that, but I’m the one who’s trying to be sexy. You can’t over-sexy me. You’re outdoing my attempt at sexy. It’s not fair.”

“I apologize,” she teased, leaning into me, but keeping an eye on Jonah. “Try, try again.”

“January.” I repeated her name because nothing had ever felt better to say, especially in that moment.

I trailed my lips down the back of her neck, inciting a shiver. I placed one slow, soft kiss on the spot where my lips lingered and sat back up. January’s eyes closed briefly and she pitched forward slightly sending a strange sensation of approval up my spine at the way I affected her. I fixed my posture and looked toward the stage area as the band was readying to play.

“They’re on,” I told her, glancing Jonah’s direction. His eyes searched the crowd before stopping at us. He lazily saluted me in acknowledgment before focusing back on the band.

“That’s right, ya’ bastard. You smile now,” I told him under my breath.

Ronnie Scott’s was a fairly intimate venue, suited best for acoustic sets. What I hoped was that the band we were about to see was better plugged in than out and that Jonah wouldn’t be able to see this.

“Watch for it,” I told January.

“For what?”

“When The Mark starts to play, listen to their acoustic set and let me know if you can imagine their set in full instruments. It will always be different. Our job is to decipher whether this band can handle full-fledged or if they’re strictly acoustic. Occasionally, I’ll have to ask to see them again. It’s why I avoid acoustic sets like the plague.”

“Oh, I see. Okay, I’ll try that. Why do you avoid acoustic sets?”

“Because live gigs with ten thousand people don’t sound that great when your instrument can’t reach them.”

“’Kay.”

“We have an advantage because we’re already familiar with them. Ten to one, so is Jonah.”

From the first strum, I’d had The Mark, well, marked and by the look on January’s face, so did she.

“Caged,” she said, repeating her first diagnosis.

“Exactly,” I agreed. “Shall we? There are a few bands playing at The Garage.”

“Cool.”

We waved at Jonah on our way out. He politely waved back but the look of bewilderment was enough to send us both over the edge when we reached the path outside.

“He looked so confused,” January said into her hand.

“Like a lost puppy, that Jonah.”

“He should really do his own research,” she offered by way of explanation.

“No, when he did that, he picked wrong. That’s why he cheats.”

“Where’s The Garage?” she hedged.

“A good twenty minutes that direction by way of the Tube.” I pointed northeast. “But it’s worth it. Lots of good bands playing tonight.”

“How do you know?” she asked.