I expect his face to twist into a frown and for him to have me thrown out of the building by security or something, but instead, he raises his eyebrows in genuine surprise and lets out a laugh that sound like the charming tunes of a lyre.
“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I-” I start, but he waves me off, silencing me with the simple, good-natured gesture.
“I heard the Duch were a little aloof, but…” he trails off, and we laugh again before I shake my head, feeling my cheeks blushing furiously.
“I’m American, actually,” I say. “Name’s Jessica. My friend and I flew in this morning.”
“Not to see me, I hope!” he jokes with a roll of his eyes, and I play along without missing a beat.
“No, of course not, we just thought we’d get a drink at some dive and got caught up in the concert. It was alright, I guess,” I say with a roll of my eyes and a playful smile on my lips, and he grins, quirking an eyebrow.
“Better than a kick in the teeth, right?”
“Maybe, but I think I like the afterparty better,” I say, biting my lip. What the hell has gotten into me? I don’t flirt with people. I just don’t. Yet here I am, chatting up the lead singer of the Seldom Strangers. Nobody around us has really noticed, or if they have, nobody’s coming up to interrupt. But something about being near Jack awakens something different in me.
Something I like.
“I’m starting to think the same,” he says, and I realize his eyes are devouring me. I feel so self-conscious, so exposed suddenly. I wish Casey hadn’t left, but at the same time, I want her to stay away. Do I like this feeling of vulnerability in front of this affable guy? “What are you drinking?”
“Nothing,” I say without thinking, assuming he meant to ask what I had in my hand, and I blink after I realize what I said, and I cover my face with my hand as we both laugh at my expense. “I’m so sorry, I’m such a mess tonight! I shouldn’t be allowed to leave the house.”
“I mean, you’re not wrong,” he says with a chuckle, “but what would you like to be drinking?”
“What’s a good Amsterdam drink?” I ask, turning to the bar with him and looking up and down the shelves as the bartender approaches.
“Two Moscow mules,” Jack orders for us, and I raise my eyebrows with a smile. The bartender gives Jack a peculiar look, but he goes to work, and Jack rolls his eyes at me.
“These continental bartenders. Almost makes me glad the tour’s ending today.”
“Really?” I ask, “I figured you’d be glad to get back to England.”
“My family is a little old fashioned,” Jack says as the bartender slides us a couple of ice-cold copper cups filled to the brim with ice, ginger beer, and premium vodka. “Not really my crowd, but we can’t live on the road forever. Well, we can, but the last time we tried that, we almost broke up,” he laughs.
I’ve followed the band’s activity for a few years now, so I know the long tour he’s talking about, but I don’t want to come off like a creepy fangirl, so I keep quiet and drink, looking up at him with starry eyes. “God, I’d be jealous to get to ride around anywhere in Europe. Stuck-up family or no.”
That doesn’t begin to describe the Delaneys. Jack comes from not just a family, but a dynasty. An old and rich bloodline of people, one of four brothers who’s each gone on to carve out a legacy in the world. And Jack is a firecracker among them.
“Well, I can tell you it’s much nicer here this time of year,” he says, and he nods to a secluded spot away from the bar, where we make our way to enjoy our drinks in private.
As we chat, I find myself opening up really fast to this total stranger. What’s even weirder is that he’s doing the same to me! In just a few minutes into our drinks, we’re laughing together like we’ve known each other forever. There’s something appealing about him on a very basic personal level that touches me unlike anyone I’ve ever met.
But our conversation is interrupted as we hear someone shouting drunkenly that midnight is nearly here. At that, Jack glances at me with a wolfish grin.
“So, Miss American Art Student Traveler, who are you gonna kiss when midnight rolls around?”
I feel my face blushing furiously—something it had managed to do at least a dozen times in our conversation already. I know exactly what he means by that. But the question is whether I’m able to play that game and keep up with him.
I know the answer is probably not, but I can’t help myself.
“I don’t know,” I say thoughtfully, glancing out over the city from the rooftop, fireworks already starting to go off afar. “Hoped I’d come across someone to help with that here.” I turned my eyes to him, trying to get an idea of how he’d take that.
“I think I have someone in mind,” he says, and my heart leaps into my throat as I realize he’s looking right at me. I know the meaning of the look in his eyes, and I squirm in my seat, biting my lip to hold back a smile. I have no idea what to say to that. Someone who may as well be a world superstar is flirting with me hard right now.
“And what kind of person does Jack Delaney have in mind?” I hear myself ask, like a different, bolder side of me stepping forward.
He grins as he looks at me, those smouldering eyes not hiding his fiery emotions as he starts to speak, but the sound of chanting throughout the bar and the streets below distracts us. It takes me a second to realize what’s happening, but as I remember what little Dutch I picked up before coming over, I realize they’re counting down.
Ten seconds to the New Year.