Revenge(22)
Dylan glances over at them. There’s something about his expression that makes me think he knows the guys. Are they security for him? That’s crazy. Street buskers don’t have security.
What’s he up to?
The curiosity is overwhelming. I want to pull the guitar from Dylan’s hands and demand to know what’s going on.
Amanda steps in close and turns to the side to take a selfie with him. Her cheek touches his cheek.
Oh, no. She’s already touched him twice now. She was probably joking about the Roommate Rules, but my stomach hurts to see her so close to him.
I want to be close to him. My cheek touching his. Those full lips of his pressing down on mine. His breath hot on my face. His hands firm on my back. Pulling me into his embrace.
Amanda steps back to stand beside me, so I have to focus my jealousy on Dylan’s guitar. I laugh inside my head at myself. Yes, I’m jealous of a guitar.
The way his hands move up and down the fretboard…
I’d love to feel his fingers walk up and down my neck. Caress my curves. Tuck a strand of my brown hair behind my ear. He’s got the most amazing hands I’ve ever seen on a guy. I could stand here all day and watch those hands.
He sings, “Blue shoes, shouldn’t you be off to work?”
“Great. You’re writing another song about me? Do I get some of the royalties?”
He strums hard, the loudness startling me.
“Baby, what’s half of nothing?” he sings.
“I never said I wanted half.”
His upper lip curves up in a sneer. He growls, “You won’t stop until you take it all.”
I hurl my words at him. “Then don’t make your songs about me.”
My harsh tone surprises me, but he was asking for it. He reminds me of the boys who used to pull my hair to get a reaction. They never expect you to dish it right back.
In a speaking voice, he says over the music, “My songs are about all girls. Because you’re all the same. With your cold, cold hearts.”
“If that’s what you think, you don’t know girls. And you definitely don’t know me.”
His eyebrows raise, drawing me deeper into his hypnotic gaze. “I don’t? Jessica Lynn Rivera?”
“Don’t say my name.”
“You’re cute when you’re mad.”
“You haven’t seen me mad.”
His eyebrows raise even higher. “I’d like to see that.”
“Don’t count on it. You’ll never…” I stop myself mid-sentence. I was about to tell him he’ll never get close enough to hurt me. But that’s not true.
He might get close.
I get all these overwhelming feelings when I hear him sing. He could get very close to me, if he wanted.
As friends.
Close friends.
Friends who kiss?
He looks over at the two big guys, then turns to Amanda. She’s staring up at him with a dumb look on her face. Her eyes dart around, taking in his shiny dark hair, and the powerful muscles pulsing along his arms. She looks like she’s fallen in love at first sight. I really wish I hadn’t brought her with me this morning.
Dylan turns his head to the side suddenly. He keeps playing, standing up on his toes like he’s watching for someone.
I turn and follow his gaze, but see nothing in particular.
When I turn back, he’s staring right at me. His eyes are so intense. There’s a fire in his soul. Danger.
It’s strange that his name didn’t exist before a month ago.
He’s definitely more than a month old. Maybe twenty-five? Or older? He seems way more worldly than anyone I know who’s my age.
So who is he, really?
I want to know, but my instincts tell me not to dig. If you dig, you might not like what you find.
Amanda elbows me, breaking my concentration.
“Food?” she asks. “Unless you want to stay here.”
Dylan starts singing another cover song, this one a Rolling Stones classic, Satisfaction. I’m pretty sure it’s the most famous song about sexual frustration.
The grit in his voice sounds sexier than ever with this song. Everything about him is just pure sex right now. The other women in the crowd put away their phones and focus completely on him.
“Good song choice,” Amanda says to me.
I scrunch my face, pretending I’m not trembling with excitement inside. I reply to Amanda, “Satisfaction? Come on. It’s a bit obvious, don’t you think?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dylan make a face about my comment.
I unzip my shoulder bag, fish out some coins, and toss them in his guitar case.
He keeps singing, about advertisements on TV. Are these the Stones lyrics? I never really paid attention to the words before.
Amanda is already walking away. I give Dylan a quick wave goodbye. He doesn’t do much more than blink my way.