one with ovaries—that could resist his charms.
“I knew you’d agree,” he removed his hand from my body and sat on his barstool looking mighty proud of himself.
“You don’t play fair,” I glared at him.
“No one said I had too,” he smirked, taking a bite of one of the cheese fries.
I stared at the food and drinks in shock. I hadn’t known the waitress even brought them. Trace had managed to make everything else disappear. It was an annoying talent he had. Although, it might prove useful since I’d agreed to sing and I would need to be sufficiently distracted so I didn’t throw up on anyone. Talk about embarrassing.
“Not bad,” he muttered after taking a sip of beer. “Want some?” He held the bottle out to me.
“No thanks,” I slid my glass of sweet tea closer to me, “this is fine.”
“Suit yourself,” he shrugged, taking another sip. “It might…loosen you up a bit,” he winked.
“Gosh,” I groaned, “how do you make everything sound like a sexual innuendo.”
“I’m… very talented,” he waggled his eyebrows.
“You’re a pain in my ass, that’s for sure. I’m not sure about talented though,” I reached for a fry covered in cheese and drenched it in ranch.
“That hurts,” he chuckled, his lips turning up in a small smile.
“I didn’t know your ego could be bruised,” I joked, adding a sugar packet to my supposedly ‘sweet’ tea.
“My cockiness is a ruse to hide the hurt little boy I am behind the handsome face,” he stared at me seriously for a moment before busting into laughter.
“How do you come up with this stuff?” I asked rhetorically, but he answered me anyway.
“My mind works in mysterious ways,” he smirked, grabbing a handful of cheese fries and stuffing them into his mouth.
I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “That’s gross, Trace.”
“What?” He mumbled around a mouthful of food. “I’m hungry… somebody had me working off all my energy earlier.”
“Oh please,” I rolled my eyes. “You’re insatiable and you know it.”
“Only when it comes to you,” he smiled widely, his green eyes light and playful.
“Good to know,” I laughed.
Between the two of us we managed to eat almost all of the cheese fries. I think we’d both been starving. “Well,” he stood, grabbing his guitar case, “I better get ready.”
“You already signed up to sing, didn’t you?” I questioned. “Before we even got here?”
He nodded. “I always have an agenda, babe,” he kissed my cheek before heading for the stage area. He bent to speak with someone, whom I assumed was a manager at the bar, and then he was escorted behind the stage.
I really hoped he didn’t do something to humiliate me. But knowing Trace, the lengths to which he’d go to embarrass me were endless.
I turned in my barstool, so I could see the stage better.
Somebody’s arm brushed mine and I jerked in response.
“Sorry,” they said, and their voice was way too close for comfort. I turned my head sharply and found a guy about my age sitting in Trace’s vacant chair. He had curly blonde hair and pale blue eyes clouded over from alcohol.
“Can I help you?” I questioned, giving the guy the benefit of the doubt.
“I just saw you sittin’ here and thought you looked lonely,” he slurred with a grin, leaning much too close to me. Somebody needed to teach this guy the rules of personal space because he was all up in my bubble, and if it popped, I could not be held accountable for my actions.
“I’m not lonely,” I said sternly, glaring at him, “so run along now.” I waved my hand in dismissal, hoping he got the message.
He grabbed my arm, squeezing much to tight. I bit down on my lip, breathing in and out sharply, hoping to avoid a panic attack. I hadn’t done well with strangers touching me after what Aaron did to me.
“There’s no need to play hard to get,” he flipped a stray blonde curl out of his eyes.
“I’m not playing anything,” I tried to
“I knew you’d agree,” he removed his hand from my body and sat on his barstool looking mighty proud of himself.
“You don’t play fair,” I glared at him.
“No one said I had too,” he smirked, taking a bite of one of the cheese fries.
I stared at the food and drinks in shock. I hadn’t known the waitress even brought them. Trace had managed to make everything else disappear. It was an annoying talent he had. Although, it might prove useful since I’d agreed to sing and I would need to be sufficiently distracted so I didn’t throw up on anyone. Talk about embarrassing.
“Not bad,” he muttered after taking a sip of beer. “Want some?” He held the bottle out to me.
“No thanks,” I slid my glass of sweet tea closer to me, “this is fine.”
“Suit yourself,” he shrugged, taking another sip. “It might…loosen you up a bit,” he winked.
“Gosh,” I groaned, “how do you make everything sound like a sexual innuendo.”
“I’m… very talented,” he waggled his eyebrows.
“You’re a pain in my ass, that’s for sure. I’m not sure about talented though,” I reached for a fry covered in cheese and drenched it in ranch.
“That hurts,” he chuckled, his lips turning up in a small smile.
“I didn’t know your ego could be bruised,” I joked, adding a sugar packet to my supposedly ‘sweet’ tea.
“My cockiness is a ruse to hide the hurt little boy I am behind the handsome face,” he stared at me seriously for a moment before busting into laughter.
“How do you come up with this stuff?” I asked rhetorically, but he answered me anyway.
“My mind works in mysterious ways,” he smirked, grabbing a handful of cheese fries and stuffing them into his mouth.
I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “That’s gross, Trace.”
“What?” He mumbled around a mouthful of food. “I’m hungry… somebody had me working off all my energy earlier.”
“Oh please,” I rolled my eyes. “You’re insatiable and you know it.”
“Only when it comes to you,” he smiled widely, his green eyes light and playful.
“Good to know,” I laughed.
Between the two of us we managed to eat almost all of the cheese fries. I think we’d both been starving. “Well,” he stood, grabbing his guitar case, “I better get ready.”
“You already signed up to sing, didn’t you?” I questioned. “Before we even got here?”
He nodded. “I always have an agenda, babe,” he kissed my cheek before heading for the stage area. He bent to speak with someone, whom I assumed was a manager at the bar, and then he was escorted behind the stage.
I really hoped he didn’t do something to humiliate me. But knowing Trace, the lengths to which he’d go to embarrass me were endless.
I turned in my barstool, so I could see the stage better.
Somebody’s arm brushed mine and I jerked in response.
“Sorry,” they said, and their voice was way too close for comfort. I turned my head sharply and found a guy about my age sitting in Trace’s vacant chair. He had curly blonde hair and pale blue eyes clouded over from alcohol.
“Can I help you?” I questioned, giving the guy the benefit of the doubt.
“I just saw you sittin’ here and thought you looked lonely,” he slurred with a grin, leaning much too close to me. Somebody needed to teach this guy the rules of personal space because he was all up in my bubble, and if it popped, I could not be held accountable for my actions.
“I’m not lonely,” I said sternly, glaring at him, “so run along now.” I waved my hand in dismissal, hoping he got the message.
He grabbed my arm, squeezing much to tight. I bit down on my lip, breathing in and out sharply, hoping to avoid a panic attack. I hadn’t done well with strangers touching me after what Aaron did to me.
“There’s no need to play hard to get,” he flipped a stray blonde curl out of his eyes.
“I’m not playing anything,” I tried to
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