Behind the Scenes(54)

I turn and look into Mr. Mulroney’s eyes. He’s stepped between me and Brendan, blocking the other man from view. He nods his head toward the door. I swallow hard, debating whether or not to follow him outside. I don’t want to miss Eryk, but the curiosity to know what Mulroney wants is eating me up.

I tap Crystal on the shoulder. “Hold my drink!”

She takes it and watches me as I go. Maybe Dana and Brendan are watching too, but I have no clue. I’m moving through the crowd, following Mr. Mulroney as he clears a path for me.

He leads me to right outside the front door. There are still a few people coming in, but it’s mostly an empty spot. The bouncer sits on his stool, looking surly, and we walk a few yards away from him.

Mr. Mulroney runs his hand through his hair. His eyes flick all around, towards the street then back at the building.

Is he nervous?

It’s hard to believe, but his posture tells that kind of story. He shifts his weight, looking almost like a scared animal trying to decide between flight or fight.

“I can’t believe you came here,” I say.

His eyes land on mine. “I’ve been thinking about you all week.”

My mouth opens, but my breath has literally just been stolen away.

His brows push together slightly. “That boy in there. You’re not seeing him anymore?”

“Brendan? No. I told you… are you jealous?”

“No,” he says, the rapid fire of the answer so fast just the speed alone is enough to make me think he’s lying.

“This is the second time you’ve asked about him,” I blandly state.

“I’m just… I’m curious. I care about you. I want to make sure you’re all right.”

He’s an awful liar. The dumbest person would be able to tell what’s going on. I’m slightly flattered, but also offended. It’s not like the man I’m standing here with has made me any meaty offers.

I wait for more of an explanation, but there doesn’t seem to be anything else coming. His hand reaches out and trails along the side of my arm. My body sways forward slightly, and I want to give in, but I can’t just yet. There’s so much that needs to be established; figured out.

“Mr. Mulroney.”

“Don’t,” he says, his voice serious as death. “I like it when you say my name.”

“Simon,” I murmur, the word rolling off my tongue.

“That’s better,” his husky voice replies. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was using you. Sydney, I dreamed about you all week. I couldn’t wait to get back here and touch you again.”

My knees shake and I have to remember to breathe. My lips burn with the need to kiss him, but something about what he said — or rather, something he didn’t say — gets to me.

“You just want me for sex,” I say.

His face is a frozen mask. “I never said that.”

“That came out too harsh. I’m sorry. I know you never said that, but I’m asking you about it now.”

“We already went over this.”

Something lurches in my chest, but I go on. “I’m not sure we did. I’m not looking for someone to just screw, but I’m afraid that might be precisely what you want.”

I hold my breath while I wait for him to deny what I’ve just said; while I wait for him to confess that he’s just as into meaningful relationships as I am.

He sighs and turns away from me. “I want to give you more.”

“Can you?”

He plants a hand on his hip and looks down at the sidewalk. His silence is enough of an answer. A fiery burn starts in my chest, spreading up to my throat and my eyes.

“If you can’t…” Emotion attempts to block the words. “Please just tell me now.”

He keeps looking at the ground. “I want to.”

The music coming out of the club takes a turn and becomes a familiar song.

“I have to go,” I rasp. “Eryk is on.”

I rush past him and back inside, not stopping to see if he’s following. There’s no time right now to even process what just happened. My friend is onstage and seeing him is the reason I came here — not getting made a fool of by Simon Mulroney again.

I blink back tears and weave my way back to my friends. Brendan glances at me, his brows slightly pushed together. I turn away from him before he has the chance to see the wetness in my eyes.

Eryk is almost to the first chorus of his routine. The crowd yells and whistles at him, soaking in each polished step and flirty glance. I smile at him, just in case he can see down into the dark crowd.

I keep my eyes trained on the stage the entire song. When Eryk finishes, I clap as loud as I can.