“Dammit, Angel! Not again!” he scoffed.
Angel shrugged and resumed nibbling her fry. “Not my fault you left her unsatisfied, and she found her way to my room. Don’t be so sensitive, Dom. It’s not like you cared.”
Dominic shook his head before turning to pin me with an accusatory glare. “And you knew about this?”
“Why are you asking her?” Angel interjected before I could even open my mouth to answer. “She spent the night at Blaine’s. Again.”
My mouth dropped. I didn’t know what to be more mortified about: Angel announcing my newly revived sex life to the entire bar, CJ snickering beside her as he looked me up and down, or Blaine’s cocky grin. I decided a little friendly retaliation was in order.
“Thank God for that,” I shot back. “I sure as hell don’t want to witness you running to Dom’s room to borrow lube while wearing a strap-on. Again.”
Dom’s face was as red as Angel’s cherry red lipstick. “Ang, keep that shit in your room! I don’t want plastic dicks flying around where I sleep! And get your own damn lube!”
I shook my head at my shameless roommates, leaving them to bicker, before looking back at Blaine.
I returned his smile. “Still wanna be weird?” I asked, nodding towards the raucous scene before us.
He rolled the metal barbell inside his mouth, causing the delicious ache that still lingered between my legs to grow into a throb. “If it means I get to be with you? Yes. Weird as hell.”
Within the next hour, the crowd inside Dive had doubled, and we were swamped. I was glad for the distraction. With Blaine near, all I could think about was being pressed against him, feeling his hips settle between my legs, his tongue tracing a path down the length of my throat down to my hardened nipples…
“Kam?”
I looked up at Blaine, who was wearing a knowing smile. “This morning was incredible,” he whispered, causing my face to flame as hot as the fire in my belly.
“There you go again, giving me that look.”
Noticing my blush, Blaine stroked the apple of my cheek with the back of his hand. “The one that makes you nervous?”
I looked away, embarrassed by my wayward thoughts. “No. The one that makes me want to take you in the back and let you…”
“How you doin’ this evening, Dive?” Angel’s voice bellowed through the speakers, drawing my attention. Blaine’s eyes stayed focused on me, waiting for me to finish voicing my fantasy.
“This next performer is a repeat, and a damn good, musician. And ladies… he’s pretty fuckin’ hot, right?”
Shrill catcalls and estrogen-fueled hoots answered Angel as a familiar face climbed onto the stage. I couldn’t say I knew him, but something about him piqued my interest enough to keep my eyes trained on the guitar-toting blonde.
Then the memory hit me like a 2-ton boulder, stealing my breath and causing the prickle of new tears to sting my eyes. It was the same guy who had performed weeks ago, singing the song that had me running to the back before I burst into uncontrollable sobs. The song that had summoned the painful reminder of the man who had wounded me to my core. And when my tears had breached the dam, Blaine was right there, pulling me into his chest, wrapping his strong arms around me as I emptied 23 years worth of heartbreak and anger into his t-shirt.
My eyes met Blaine’s, hoping he would understand and let me slip out before emotion drowned me. I couldn’t revisit that dark headspace. I couldn’t keep letting him see me broken and defeated.
“Just wait, baby,” he said, his warm eyes devoid of alarm, despite my expression. “It’s not what you think. You’ll be ok.”
He turned me back to face the stage, just as the guy situated himself behind the mic.
“Good evening,” he said, his voice smooth and rich. “My name is Taylor Hart, and I have a special song, dedicated to a very special lady, from someone who is…” He smiled as he paused, scanning the crowd, “…fucking crazy about her.”
He spotted Blaine and I stationed at the bar and nodded, a mischievous grin on his face. “This is “Your Guardian Angel,” originally by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. Hope you enjoy.”
My eyes instantly flicked up to Blaine whose appreciative gaze was enough to make my stomach start breakdancing to the beatbox of my thrumming heart. He stepped into me and pulled my hips into his unabashedly, a crooked smile gracing his lips. “I can’t sing worth a damn and like the saying goes, turn about is fair play.”
Blaine’s inked fingers stroked the length of my jaw, and I reflexively nuzzled into the touch. “I don’t want you holding onto the memory of what happened last time. I know it’ll hurt you every time you hear him sing. So, let me help you create a new memory, ok?”