“Where to?” I ask excitedly.
“The Shack, you know, the bar across the street. We can walk there! There’s a band playing tonight.” She pulls me up off the couch and pushes me into my room, telling me, “Now get dressed!”
We walk into The Shack,a cozy bar that caters to the college crowd with cheap drinks and a laid-back atmosphere. There is a stage in front of a small dance floor, and in the back, a few pool tables and dart machines.
We find her friends at the pool tables. They have pitchers of beer and tell us to pour ourselves a drink. I’m people watching, looking around, when my eyes lock on a gorgeous guy. He is tall, over six feet, with a strong, muscular build, the perfect scruffy five o’clock shadow, and dark-brown, shaggy, messed-up-on-purpose hair. He is wearing a white V-neck T-shirt with a tattoo partly showing on his bicep, and worn, hugging-all-the-right-places jeans. He notices me gawking and smiles. I feel my face heat up, so I quickly turn around before I make an even bigger fool of myself.
Lena’s brows pull in, and she mouths,what happened. I shake my head and mouthlater, not wanting to say anything when he could still be watching me. I decide to jump into a pool game and give my full attention to the table. After a few shots, I feel someone watching me. I look up, and my gaze lands on the same guy, who’s now staring at me. He smiles as he continues in our direction, but just before he approaches, someone taps his shoulder and says something to him. He looks at me again, smiling, but walks away. How can one smile turn my insides to mush?
A band begins playing a couple of minutes later, so Lena and I find a table to watch the set, and I notice the guy yet again, this time on stage playing guitar. He looks absolutely amazing. My stomach is doing flips watching him. I know every other girl in the bar is watching him with as much lust as I am feeling. Watching his hand glide up and down the neck of his guitar and the intense expression he wears while moving his body to the music is turning me on more than I’d like to admit.
"I was blushing earlier because the guitar player caught me staring at him. He is freakin’ gorgeous!" I tell Lena in her ear.
She starts laughing and says, "Every other girl in this bar thinks so too, me included!"
I laugh, looking back up to the stage, right into his eyes. I swear he is looking directly at me but know my imagination has run wild.
After last call, Lena and I walk home, laughing and talking about the evening. Our drunken talk is interrupted by my phone chiming. Pulling it out, I notice I missed a few texts from Caleb. I was so carefree, I didn’t bother looking at my phone.
Caleb:where r u
Me: walking hm from the bar
Caleb: u went out tonite?
M:yes, to the shack.
My phone rings just as we are about to climb the steps to our apartment.
"Hello,” I say, even though I know it’s him.
“You went out?” Caleb says tightly.
“Yes. I went out with Lena to have a few beers and listen to a band. We met some people from her bio class.”
“And you didn’t bother to let me know?” he snaps.
“You were at work. And besides, you don't hear me upset when you go out with the boys,” I respond as my shoulders tighten.
“Whatever. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he says and hangs up the phone before I can respond.
"What was that about?" Lena asks, as we make it to our apartment.
"He’s mad I went out, I guess." I plop down on the couch, and she follows.
"Why?"
I shrug, not knowing how to explain. "He'll call tomorrow and apologize." I frown.
* * *
Sure enough,morning rolls around and I have several texts from Caleb telling me how sorry he is and to call him when I wake up. Deciding to make him wait, I take my shower first. When I finally call him, he expresses his regret and tells me how much he worries when I’m out alone. There are too many assholes waiting to take advantage of innocent girls. He says he’ll make it up to me by picking me up for lunch.
Lunch has been perfect—he’s sweet and attentive. And just as I’m wishing Caleb acted like this every day, he asks, “Are you sure you like living with Lena?”
Taken by surprise, I say, “I’m more than positive. Why?”
He drops his head a tad and whispers, “I just worry that she may be a bad influence. She seems like the loud, party-girl type. I don’t want people to associate you with that.” He grabs my hand from the table, kissing it.