“Part of the job, Ava,” she calls. “Only way to get those other people up to sing is if you do.”
“They just need to be drunk. You should do a dollar beer night.”
She huffs. “As if. Now, go sing your tits off.”
I’m thrown back to Camden when Miss Henderson said something similar over the intercom before the first football game. The memory doesn’t prick like it used to, and I laugh.
“She just likes hearing you sing,” Piper says as she brings back a tray of beer and wine glasses. “And you know you like it too.” She gives me a questioning look, and I shrug. She’s right. I didn’t sing for a long time, but once I started working here a year ago, it just seemed natural to hop on the stage and belt one out. There’s a piano, but I can’t play it. I can strum a guitar, though, thanks to Wyatt.
I’ve gotten through two songs when a big group comes in. Girls and guys, they’re wearing Vandy colors. Blue’s Bar is a block from campus, and most of our clientele are coeds.
Carla signals for one more and I nod.
Dipping my head, I sit on the stool and strum the first few bars of “Mercy” by Shawn Mendes. Humming, I start the lyrics, melancholy verses about a guy who needs the girl he loves to show mercy for his heart, to take their love slow. He’s prepared to sacrifice it all, but he needs to take some time.
The crowd gets quieter, and I sing the melody, giving it all I have.
A piano begins to play.
Pulling myself from the lyrics, I look over, and Hot Guy has gotten on stage. He’s playing, his fingers stroking the keys in time to my words.
Ah, we meet again. A shiver ripples over my skin.
Red colors my cheeks when he pops an eyebrow at me. I realize I’ve stopped singing.
Well? Aren’t you going to finish? his eyes ask.
Why? my face says.
He shrugs effortlessly as his fingers pause over the keys. “I like how you sing,” he says softly.
Good enough. I look back at the crowd and sing the rest.
The song ends to a smattering of claps, hardly enthusiastic.
“Ava! I need you! Get over here!” Carla waves her hands at the line of people at the bar.
Right.
I turn back to my piano player, but he’s already gone, headed back to that group of students who came in earlier.
With a sigh, I straighten my hot pink Blue’s Bar tank and head to the bar, sliding in, taking orders, cracking beer bottle tops, and mixing drinks.
“Beer, please,” a deep voice says. “Guinness in a bottle if you have it.”
I was bent over, cleaning the ice chest during a lull, but I rise up and prop my elbows on the dark wooden bar. He’s sitting on a stool in front of me.
“Lee,” I say breathlessly. “Nice piano skills.”
He dips his head, a sheepish smile quirking his lips. “Meh. I can keep up.”
“They liked it.” I wave around at the bar. It’s gotten packed in here. All the tables are full and there’s a line at the end of the bar for orders. Piper is out there somewhere, harried and full of energy, taking food and drink orders, scurrying back and forth to the kitchen.
He shifts, his tightly roped arms resting on the bar as if he’s settling in. I watch as he rakes a hand through his hair, and my fingers itch to test the silkiness of the texture.
“It’s my first time in Blue’s. Nice place.” His lips twitch. “You gonna keep staring or get me that beer?”
“You got an ID?”
He pulls out a leather wallet and pops out his driver’s license.
“Hey, what’s so funny?” He leans in and looks at it with me, and Jesus, the smell of the ocean floats around him.
“First, you look pissed in this pic. Second, what did you do to your hair? Too much gel. Third, you aren’t 21.”
“I will be someday. Would you rather see my fake?” he says wryly.
I shrug. Everyone’s got one, and Carla isn’t looking.
He hands it over and I study it, give it back, and hand him his Guinness, twisting the top off and setting it on a napkin. He can’t seem to stop watching my movements, and my stomach gets those butterflies again.
“How old are you?” he asks.
“Twenty this past January.”
“Ah. How did you celebrate?”
I roll my eyes. “Working. I’m not much of a party girl.”
His gaze slides over my bare arms. Studies my bicep. “Nice tattoo.”
“Phoenix.” I turn to the side and let him see the orange creature rising up into the sky, red flames in its trail. I got it the summer after I left Camden. Every prick on my skin was a reminder of how far I came to where I am now. I lifted myself from the ashes and started anew. “My brother drew it. You got any?”
“None you can see.”
Someone next to him orders a glass of Chablis, a pretty girl with a sorority shirt on, and I pour it for her. I get another order from the person behind her, and Sorority Girl turns to Lee, starts a conversation. He answers in monosyllables until she slides away, looking disappointed.
“You get that a lot I bet.” I’m back and staring at him. I can’t stop. My eyes linger on his lips. A long breath escapes me.
He tips the beer up. Takes a long swig. “Nah. I’m saving myself for someone. Have been for a while.”
“Really?”
“Mmmm.” He peels at the paper on his beer.
“You trying out being a monk?”
“Just waiting for a girl.”
My hands shake and I stick them in the pockets of my jeans. I clear my throat. “I haven’t seen you on campus before. Did you transfer in? What year are you?”
He smiles. “My first year here, actually. I took a gap year after high school to travel with my brother and Dad then took some online classes and worked a few jobs, mostly construction for my dad’s company. Wanted to save up some money—for a girl.”
I sigh, swallowing. “Ah, travel. Where did you go?”
“The beach at first. We have a house on Kiawah Island in South Carolina.”
I picture a sprawling mansion on the coast, waves lapping at the shore. “That sounds nice. Where else?”
“We left there and ended up in Alaska for fishing, then went to Italy. Lived in a villa for a few months, climbed some mountains, saw Pompeii—amazing by the way. My brother…” He chuckles. “He cried like a baby over those ruins, all the people and animals killed in an instant by volcanic ash.” He gives me a hesitant look. “He’s got a soft heart.”
“Bad way to go for sure. Where else did you go?” I’m leaning over closer to him, fascinated.
He laughs, his eyes glinting.
I shrug. “What? I’ve always wanted to travel. The beach sounds amazing to me. I bet you saw a lot of those.”
“Someday you will too…” He pops a maddening eyebrow. I want to lick it.
“Yeah. When I’m done with Vandy. Then medical school, then residency, then…who knows.”
He nods. “We spent a few months in Greece. Gorgeous water and beaches. My brother met a girl on the Amalfi Coast, fell in love, and she came back with him.”
Warmth fills me. “Ah. Is he happy?”
“He is.” He pauses. “Did you know there’s a small Greek island devoted to taking care of cats?”
“No shit.”
“Shit. Just a bunch of felines roaming over a tiny deserted island. There’s a caretaker and everything.”
“You like cats?”
“My brother does. He’s got one I gave him.”
I smile. “What’s your major?”
“Don’t laugh. Business with a minor in poetry.”
I laugh.
“I said don’t laugh! I don’t even know why it’s funny, but everyone laughs like poetry is dumb.”
“I wasn’t laughing because of that. I’m laughing because…it suits you.”
A few of the guys in the back yell when the TV behind the bar replays a Vandy football game from last year. I guess they’re getting ready for the new season. Our first game is in two weeks. I run my gaze over the guys he came in with. They’re all in football shirts.
Lee wears one too.
“You play football for Vandy?”
He nods. “I walked on this summer. Quarterback. Came in and tried out. Got a spot. Third string, but, hey…” He laughs and spreads his hands. “Some guys peak in high school. Looks like I did okay.”
God. I love how he laughs. It’s the color of the sun, soft and warm and golden.
I think I must say it aloud, because he blushes.
Then spears me with gunmetal eyes. “You okay with guys who play football?”
“Totally. What’s not to like? I know a few of those guys. Dated a football player in high school. Okay, two.” I grimace.
“Ah, young love. My competition, by the glint in your eyes.”
Someone asks for a Bud Light and I grab one, take the money, and slide it down the bar.
I make my way back to him.
He hasn’t moved an inch.
“So third string? You strike me as pretty competitive. Does that sting?”
He shrugs. “I used to think playing was all I needed, even wanted a scholarship from a big school.” A faraway look grows in his eyes. “What I really needed was my family. I’ve learned to be patient. Everything arrives when it’s supposed to.”
“Vandy isn’t a big football college, but it is SEC Division 1. You can work your way up to first string.”