Revenge(21)
Another chill runs through me.
The guys don’t get very far before they turn around and walk past us again.
Amanda is looking at Dylan’s video on her phone again, and doesn’t seem to notice the guys. One of them pulls out his phone and holds it up like he’s taking a video of us while he’s walking away.
I’ve got a bad feeling now. The last time I saw Dylan Wolf, I got hurt. I’m probably being paranoid, but my heart is pounding. My heart is telling me something bad is going to happen.
“Standing here is boring,” Amanda says. “We’re going to walk by and say hi to your friend. And you have to officially call dibs on him.”
She grabs my arm and yanks me to come with her.
Quietly, I say, “Fine, I call dibs.”
“That’s not enough,” she says, laughing. “You also have to touch him, or it doesn’t count.”
“Touch him? You’re crazy.”
“Just touch his hand. Or kick him. Anything counts. Those are the Roommate Rules.”
We get closer and closer. My heart beats faster.
Chapter 10
Dylan Wolf looks even more attractive in the flesh than he does in the video. He’s wearing the same beat-up old boots as on Sunday, only with black jeans. The jeans are tight and show off the thick muscles in his legs.
He’s wearing a plain gray T-shirt today. It might have once been a white shirt, but it looks like it’s old and been washed a million times. The fabric is thin and clings to his muscles. I can’t see his abs behind the guitar, but his chest is broad and impressive. The shirt is tight across his shoulders.
My breathing gets shallow. My eyes wander up to his face, stopping at his mouth. He’s singing a cover of an older rock song. I think it’s a Bon Jovi song, but he’s put a twist on it.
That gritty voice snakes into me. He’s got control over me, with just his voice.
Amanda stops walking and I bump into her. Like a dork. My cheeks burn with embarrassment.
She nudges me and leans over to whisper, “Just touch him.”
I take half a step away and pretend I don’t know her.
Dylan keeps playing and singing. He nods at some other people who stop to listen. It’s so early, but I guess people on their way to work enjoy music. A few guys reach into their pockets and toss change into the open guitar case.
“Blue shoes,” Dylan says between lines of the song.
It’s more of a greeting than lyrics.
He keeps playing the Bon Jovi song, but he stops singing.
My eyes are reluctant to go all the way up to meet his gaze.
He tries to get my attention again. “Hey. How are you doing, blue shoes?”
I look up at him finally. A thunderbolt goes through me as I make eye contact with his dark brown eyes.
“Pretty good,” I say, smiling bravely. “How are you?”
“Getting by. Blue shoes, did you know you’re going to be famous?”
His eyes are mocking me now.
“You shouldn’t film people like that,” I say.
“Wasn’t me. My hands were on my guitar.” He gives me an intense look. “I’m not responsible for what other people do.” He grins, melting my heart. “I’m glad you saw the video.”
Amanda reaches her hand out to him. I completely forgot she was standing right beside me.
“Hi Dylan. I’m Amanda, and this is Jess.”
She’s holding her hand out like she’s offering a handshake. Dylan looks amused, because he’s strumming the guitar with his right hand. He stops for a moment and shakes her hand.
“Nice to meet you.” He looks right at me. “And I know Jess already. Don’t I, Jess? Or should I say… Miss Jessica Lynn Rivera.”
My eyes narrow to give him a dirty look. “You got a good look at my wallet, didn’t you?”
He lets go of Amanda’s hand and strums the gleaming strings of the guitar. He’s so talented, he makes it look easy.
“Just a glance.” He winks at me. “That’s a cute photo on your driver’s license.”
“Did you put anything into my wallet?”
“Just one of these.” He pulls his strumming hand up, puckers his lips, and blows me a kiss.
I’m pissed at him for not answering my question, but the kiss throws me off. He looks down at his guitar for a moment and frowns as he plucks one string then adjusts the tuning.
Now what do I do? Just stand here? Watch him sing? I guess that’s what I’ll do.
He nods at the gathering crowd. Another dozen people have joined us in a half-circle.
The crowd puts me on edge.
There’s nobody in a hoodie lurking, but I can’t let my guard down. The two big guys I saw before are standing at the edge of the group, recording with their phones.