“Dude, you sure you can learn this by Saturday?”
Travis looks up at me from tuning his guitar with the look of death. “Yes, lover boy, it’s not that hard. Even if it is a pansy ass song.”
“Pansy ass? The guy’s singing about how much he wants this girl, all sultry and shit, how is that pansy ass?” Now I’m defending the band? Mia just has that effect on me—I want to like what she likes.
“Come on. Let’s try it out. Grab the mic and do your best…sultry.” Burn! Travis is never gonna let me live this one down.
Doesn’t matter, because after memorizing the lyrics and ingraining them into my soul, I am dead set on singing these words to my new girl.
I dig deep, really letting the lyrics take over. This is what Mia meant by life-changing, and I know it all too well—allowing words and emotions to flood your consciousness and pump through your veins, make you feel goddamn invincible. Bottle this shit up, it’s like a drug!
When I’m done with the first rehearsal, Travis looks at me with an eyebrow cocked and his mouth slightly agape. “Damn, Dec. You’re so gonna get laid.”
So, yeah, I know it seems outlandish—serenading a girl I’ve only known a week in front of most of the school, on our very first date. But it doesn’t take a genius, or more than a week, to see that Mia is not just some girl. She’s the girl. I might have known this that day in the library, but our phone conversations and minor run-ins this week have solidified it. She’s take-home-to-mom, put-a-ring-on-her-finger, mother-of-my-children material.
And I haven’t even kissed her yet.
I excuse myself from our booth at The Alibi and Mia is none-the-wiser as I bee-line it for the stage. When I hop up and join the band, I focus my spotlight-blinded gaze on my date. I expect her to be nervous, maybe even a slight bit mortified, but she looks...ready. Score for me! I think it’s safe to assume this date will go down in history as her most impressive one yet. Unless having a guy sing to you, in public, is the kind of thing she’s used to happening on a first date.
I clear my throat and say a silent prayer that I can do her favorite band some fucking justice. The bass guitarist, Josh, starts the intro and the adrenaline pumping through my veins fuels me. By the time I get to the chorus of the song, the words “I want you” roll off my tongue like silk. Regardless of the hoots and hollers from the approving crowd, it’s like it’s only me and Mia in this room. My eyes never leave hers. Her big brown eyes practically have stars in them.
It’s working.
When the song is over and I’ve slapped just about every dude’s hand in the bar, and been squeezed on the ass by a few too many of the ladies, I make my way back to my beautiful date. I imagine that this is what a rock star feels like after a performance. Only instead of wooing a shit-load of panty-throwing groupies, I’m only interested in what this one girl thinks of me.
I act as if I haven’t just poured my soul out for her, as if I just got back from going to the bathroom like she had originally thought. I sit back in the booth pretending not to notice how awed she seems. I take a sip of my soda and lean back.
“Seriously, dude? Are you kidding?” She pinches my arm. The first physical contact of the night. It’s not enough.
“What?” I say, displaying my most wicked grin.
I try to pay attention to what’s coming out of those delicious lips, but all I can focus on his how much I do want her. I catch the tail end. “... amazing, Declan. No one has ever done something like that for me before.”
I arch an eyebrow, playing with her. “Who said I was doing it for you?”
She slaps my arm this time, allowing her hand to linger. The lingering sensation is a little better, but I still want more.
When she motions to the waitress for the check, I worry that I’ve done something wrong. Did I come on too strong? Why is our date suddenly over? I thought it was just getting good.
But she opens her mouth to explain and her response blows me away. Mia wants to get out of here because she wants me too. Holy Fuck!
After the most amazing kiss of my entire life, we catch the shuttle back to campus. We hold hands and share a few publically acceptable kisses the whole way back. She’s invited me back to her room to watch a movie. I agree, but I can tell by her body language that watching some movie has nothing to do with what she really wants.
Fuck, watching a movie has nothing to do with what I really want. But what I really want, I’ve never done and I don’t exactly know how the hell to explain that to a woman who walks, talks and breathes sex. Megan was the closest I’d ever come to doing it, but neither of us was ever really ready. Call me old fashioned or a total dweeb if you must, but I don’t believe that you should have sex just to have sex. Sure, my hormone-flooded body strongly disagrees with my honorable intentions at times, but I want my first time to be with someone special. And as special as Megan seemed in some extremely heated instances, I knew she wasn’t the one.