“I hear the lead singer is drop dead gorgeous,” Sarah went on. “They should be coming out soon, and we can check him out at least.”
As if on cue, on the stage the rumble of footsteps over wood and instruments being picked up sounded over the crowd. We turned our heads in unison. I followed the guy who’d walked, head down, to the microphone center stage, and picked up the gray guitar on a stand there. With bated breath, I watched him adjust the microphone to his mouth.
Unaware of anything he said, I could only focus on his face. Cute didn’t cut it. Chiseled features in perfect symmetry, his amber eyes had gold flecks that shone in the spotlight. We had this prime table, just one over from front and center, and from here I could see his dark eyes sparkle in the spotlight. I thought of the wolf from last week immediately, but berated myself for allowing the trauma to cloud everything I saw. Same colors, but different mix. Same with his hair. His black locks did have gray streaks in the light, even though he had to be far too young to have such.
His baritone voice washed over me. Each word settled in my soul even if it hadn’t fully registered in my mind. He soothed my frazzled nerves with just the warm, smooth timbre of his tone. I watched his mouth move, forming the words, even as I observed the way his Adam’s apple bobbed over the collar of his black shirt. At times I even ventured to glance over all of him.
The way his shirt clung to his rippling muscles, full six pack abs and all, made my heart skip a beat. By the time I’d gotten to his jeans, the mound just under his guitar packaged by snug denim, I had nearly hyperventilated. I became grateful for the interruption of Chloe’s voice lest I practically orgasm right there at the table without even being touched. Thank the stars that wasn’t a thing, or I may just have done it.
“Yep, he’s hot,” Chloe exclaimed, a little too much the school girl for my taste at the moment.
No idea why it bothered me. It never had before, but I wasn’t in my right mind. In my defense, this guy on the stage strumming and singing hadn’t helped my plight at all. He sat there too cute to not be dead serious about it.
“But,” she continued, “I’m actually partial to the guy playing guitar beside him. I’m tending toward blond hair rather than dark, you know?”
“I know,” both Sarah and I said in unison, our exasperation not only in sync, but in tune.
“Fine,” Chloe huffed as if truly offended. “I won’t go on and on about how cute he is, or how blue those eyes are. When he turned around though, did you get a good look at that ass?”
“No, we didn’t, but at least you are not going on and on about him,” Sarah teased before I had the chance to do so.
“I have to say I’m impressed with the lead,” I added, trying to keep the dreamy out of my voice.
“Me too,” Sarah said, her voice sultry like I could never make mine be.
I couldn’t flirt. Didn’t know how and didn’t have the soft, deep voice for it. My voice, while not bad, held a much higher pitch. Even sick, I just sounded sick, not sexy. While those who cared about me had always said I had a pretty face and gorgeous hair, we all knew that was just gentle-speak for the healthy hair and skin of the big-boned girl with ample curves.
If nothing else, my mother before she’d died, and my doting yet semi-drunk father, had instilled in me a healthy amount of self-confidence. While I didn’t date, it had more to do with my nervousness around new people, or at least so I told myself. In truth, I couldn’t bear the thought of loving someone and being left alone again. My weight, on the other hand... I carried it well. I held my head high. Most of the time. I wouldn’t let anyone see a chink in my armor, regardless of the truth, even when they did exist. Tonight served as perfect proof of that.
I could never get a guy like the one on the stage to look at me twice, even if I wanted him to. Let’s be real here. Surely, too cute for his own good with a sexy enough to die for voice would have his sights on some perky blond in a low cut something or other. So, it was fine that Sarah liked him. No towing the line of girl code. If she could get him, she could have him. I’d put him in my dreams, try to snuff out the nightmares that had plagued me of late.
If only I had the guts, I would speak to him, though. He was just my type, one I hadn’t even defined completely until this moment. Besides those looks, his music had such a depth about it. Just a few songs in, and I already had a list of subjects I’d like to discuss with him. Love and loss would be the first of them. The heart-wrenching love song he’d first belted out had used turns of phrase that I’d never thought of. They put the whole grief thing into a new perspective for me.