I want to let him know I want more than lessons.
But how do I say that? Maybe the music will unlock the words.
When we enter the theater and head to our seats, joining TJ and Jude, as well as Jason who just arrived, I make a promise to myself.
My lesson for the concert will be to listen for just the right words to say to this man I won’t let get away.
No matter what bad boyfriends I had in the past, Nate is a good one. I want to find a way to keep him. We settle into our seats, but as the lights dim, I spot a familiar silhouette a few chairs over in the row ahead of us.
Brandon. My ex-boyfriend.
And he’s here with his husband.
15
NATE
The second Hunter spots a guy in the next row, a prickle crawls up the back of my neck.
Hunter’s hand in mine loosens. His eyes laser in on the dark-haired guy sitting next to a dude with a shaved head.
A heavy breath seems to fall from Hunter’s lips, audible in the quiet before the show starts. Then a mutter, like a strangled oh fuck.
My radar beeps.
Hunter’s knee taps up and down. Maybe I should ignore this. Maybe that’s the boyfriend lesson here. Pretend he’s not annoyed, or worried, or freaking out. But the thing is, I don’t know what’s wrong. I can’t tell what’s bugging him.
And I don’t want to shut down. He opened me up on the plane yesterday. The least I can do is try to understand him since he seems stressed.
I lean close to him, my face near his ear. “You okay, babe?”
My weekend companion takes a deep breath. “That’s Brandon. Over there, with the dark hair.”
Oh. Shit. “Your ex? The bartender?”
“Yes,” he says heavily.
Maybe Brandon didn’t see us. Maybe Hunter doesn’t care. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Except the expression on Hunter’s face is freaking me out, making me think all these things I’m feeling for him are foolish. That he’s a man who’s still not over his ex. That it was ridiculous for me to let my dumb heart get involved.
But I swallow those feelings down and focus on Hunter. That’s the boyfriend lesson right now. Him before me. “Do you want to go?” I whisper.
His brow knits, and he tilts his head like a curious dog. “No. Why?”
“In case it’s weird,” I say quietly.
Before Hunter can answer, the bald guy groans in an annoyed voice. “You were supposed to get better seats. Front row, you said.”
“These seats are fine,” Brandon says.
“Fine. Yes. Fine. Everything is fine,” the man replies, a little snotty.
Or maybe a lot snotty.
“Jesus, does everything have to be the best thing ever all the time? It’s a fucking concert. Just enjoy yourself for once,” Brandon says in a harsh whisper.
Hunter whips his gaze to me, his eyes widening. He looks almost . . . entertained.
Whoa.
Now I really can’t read the guy I’ve been spending every second with.
Hunter dips his face to my neck. “Can’t believe it. Three months in, and they’re fighting like cats and dogs,” he whispers, a little bit of Schadenfreude in his tone.
Is he enjoying his ex’s marital woes? Taking glee in them? Well, the fucker cheated on Hunter, so I have no issue with that. But maybe the lesson I ought to learn is perhaps Hunter’s emotions aren’t in the same spot as mine. Maybe he’s still hung up on the past.
“Yeah, seems to be,” I say evenly since I shouldn’t have a horse in this race. I shouldn’t care about Hunter’s ex.
Except, tell that to my heart. I care deeply about Hunter’s feelings. His reactions. And if they mean what I want them to mean or something else entirely.
When Brandon turns our way, Hunter grabs my face and drags me in for a kiss.
It’s probably a good kiss.
Maybe even a great one.
But right now, with his lips on mine, I feel a little bit used.
And that might be the lesson I needed.
A second later, the lights dim, the rock star comes on stage, and the show begins. I do love Stone Zenith, but I barely enjoy a second of the concert.
My brain is running plays the entire time, trying to figure out if I should stay in this game with Hunter or cut my losses and run far away from the field.
16
HUNTER
As the megastar croons, I try to find answers. I search for them in the lines of his love songs. In the strum of the guitar. In the feel of Nate’s hand in mine. And in the presence of my ex a few feet away.
The whole time, I hunt for clarity in the music, in the big, rich sound of the rocker’s voice, in anthemic chords echoing from the guitar.
I want to know what to do next.
Right around the time when the star nears the end of his set, I may have found the message I need.