Smitten

Fish chuckles. “I still don’t get how it’s possible you get stage fright. Don’t you play in front of people at school?”

“Yes, but not nearly as much as I should. Not as much as other people, because I don’t put myself out there as much as I should. I’ve recently decided to perform a lot more, though. This summer, I’m going to audition a ton. I’ve already signed up for a huge one on Tuesday, right after I get back to Boston.”

“What’s the audition?”

“Well, I probably shouldn’t have called it ‘huge,’ considering who I’m talking to. It’s just a weekly solo gig at a popular coffeehouse near campus. And I won’t get the gig. It’s highly competitive. But getting the job isn’t the point. It’s learning how to push myself outside of my comfort zone.”

“That’s exactly what you should be doing. Putting yourself out there, until your discomfort turns to comfort. And then do it again. That, and have faith in yourself.” He rubs his thumb over the back of my hand again. “At every audition, show them the Alessandra I’ve been hanging out with tonight. If you do that, I promise they won’t be able to resist you. Any more than I have.”

Oh, for the love of fuck. Really? He hasn’t been able to resist me, huh? It sure doesn’t feel that way, when my lips are literally aching to be kissed.

But even as I’m thinking my salty thoughts, I suddenly realize Fish is leaning into me. Leaning forward and parting his lips, like he’s going to kiss me!

Yes!

He’s finally doing it!

I lean in to meet him halfway, my heart exploding with excitement . . . But the instant before our mouths actually meet, jarring noises immediately behind us, on the other side of the low retaining wall—footfalls and male voices, right above our heads!—invade our quiet bubble.

We both jerk back.

And the moment is lost.

Fish exhales and looks immediately above us. “Well, hello there, fellas,” he says.

I look up . . . and then lean back against the wall and cover my face with my hands. Of all people, it’s Reed Rivers, along with Keane and Zander, standing above us. Fucking hell!

And, just like that, the kiss I’ve been waiting for all night—no, for my entire fucking life!—slips from my lips’ proverbial pucker.

Nine

Fish

“Well, hello there, fellas,” I say on an exhale. And at the sound of my voice below them in the dirt, Reed, Zander, and Keane simultaneously look down and grimace.

“Sorry, brother,” Zander says in his low baritone. “Carry on. We came out here to smoke a joint, but we can certainly find another spot.”

Fuck.

I want to reply, “Please do.” More than I want to breathe. But I also know this could be a hugely serendipitous moment for Alessandra. She’s got dreams of making it in music, after all, and Reed is one of a handful of people in the world who could instantly make her dreams a reality. Maybe now that Alessandra has loosened up so much with me, she’ll be able to engage Reed in substantive conversation, unlike what happened earlier today at the pool.

“No need to find another spot to smoke,” I say, rising to standing. I pull Alessandra up with me and say, “Did everybody meet Alessandra?” But, of course, I’m looking straight at Reed.

Everyone says yes, they’ve met her, while Keane lights the joint. After the three men take hits off the thing, Reed hands the joint to me, so I suck on it and offer it to Alessandra. I’m not expecting her to take it, considering she’s been drinking water all night. But you never know. Reed’s here, getting stoned. I certainly wouldn’t blame her if she decided to bro-down with him. Plus, not offering it to her, when everyone else is partaking, would be downright rude.

Not surprisingly, though, Alessandra declines my offer. And I must admit, I’m kind of impressed. I can’t imagine too many aspiring singer-songwriters would turn down the chance to get stoned with Reed Rivers. The Man with the Midas Touch. To kiss his golden ass, in any way possible. But not Alessandra Tennison, apparently. From what I’ve seen of her, I don’t think she’s even capable of kissing ass, even when doing it would be in her best interests. Yes, she’s effusive with her praise, at times. But even then, there’s never a doubt she’s being sincere.

“Give her share to Reed,” Keane says. “Murder can really fuck up a guy’s life.”

“Not if they don’t catch ya,” Reed replies with a wink.

I don’t know what any of that means. But I don’t care. All I care about is getting Reed to focus his full attention on Alessandra, so she can convince him to listen to some of her original music. Granted, I haven’t heard any of Alessandra’s music myself. So, there’s no guarantee she’s as good as I’m guessing. But my gut tells me she’s a little diamond in the rough. A little lioness. How could she not be, when she’s so adorable? Even her speaking voice is mesmerizing to me. Kind of soft and breathy and soothing. So I’ve got to figure her singing voice is pretty incredible, too.