“Sybil needs a nice boy to show her how a lady is meant to be treated.” She winks and I sigh. Jesus is far from a boy and though he is nice, he doesn’t make my heart flutter or skip a beat. I want an all-consuming passion.
“Just bake your pies and leave showing Sybil a good time to me.” Jesus licks his lips and gazes at me and my stomach drops. He’s making eyes at me. The expression on his face says a thousand words and none of them are any I want to hear from the guy I think of as blood.
**
Later that night I ride to the bar with Jesus hoping he doesn’t think this is a date. We pull up to the Rusty Bucket, owned by a local named Rocky, known for its fights and loud music. The neon sign flickers overhead and there is a line outside the door. Morbid Duplicity rarely does smaller venues these days as their popularity has grown. They started out locally in a garage and playing the festivals and fairs. Now they are going on tour with some bigger names. I can’t believe they are playing here tonight.
Jesus grabs my hand as a fight breaks out in line and pulls me back against his chest. “Stay close.” His days old stubble rubs against the shell of my ear, and I step forward, dropping his hand. The bouncers have already tossed the brawlers out of the line.
I wipe my palm on the pant leg of my dark skinny jeans. His hand was sweaty. “I’m fine.” Shooting him a smile over my shoulder, I move up with the line now that the bouncers have restored order to the group. I have my ID ready. Too bad I’m not old enough to drink. I get the yellow wristband that implies I can’t be served alcohol. Jesus will sneak me something I am sure once the lights go down and the music starts.
Inside it’s loud and smoky as we navigate the large tight crowd hoping to find a seat.
“I’m going to grab a beer. You want anything?”
“Nah. I’m good. I’m going to go to the bathroom. Meet you near the stage in ten?” I’m too nervous to drink just yet though it would probably calm my nerves.
He gives me a wink and flashes his dimples at me.
I start to walk away when he grabs my wrist and rubs the pad of his finger in a circle. “I’m really glad you came tonight, Sybi.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, feeling pure regret.
His lips twitch like he wants to say more. Instead he drops my wrist and I turn away.
I make my way to the narrow hall that houses the bathrooms and groan internally when I see the line. I really don’t need to go, but I am getting a vibe from Jesus that implies that he does indeed think this could be a date. I don’t know how to feel about it honestly, and I don’t want to hurt him or give him the wrong idea. I won’t lead him on. Maybe his mother has been putting ideas in his head. Jesus would make any woman a great boyfriend. I adore his friendship but that is all we will ever be—friends.
I know I spend a lot of time there on the weekends at their farm. Maybe I spend too much time there giving them the impression that I am interested. I frown to myself and am bumped roughly from behind, knocking me to my knees. A drink spills down my back, and I hear some guy muttering, “Shit. I’m sorry. Are you okay?” A tattooed hand waves past my face and extends to help me up.
Taking his offered hand, I glance up to see a gorgeous pair of blue eyes trained on me. “I’ll live.”
“Good to know.” He pulls me to my feet, and I bump foreheads with the guy.
“Shit,” I hiss.
“Damn. I’m not making a good impression, am I?” he rubs his forehead as I hold my palm to mine. I’m glad I don’t wear much makeup, or I would look like hell right now.
I laugh. “Not really.”
“Can I buy you a drink to make up for it?” He rolls his bottom lip inward, sucking his lip ring and rolling it outward. He’s cute. Dark hair frames his face and he runs a hand through it, pushing it behind his ears. My fingers twitch wanting to touch the thick strands. “I’m Diego.” His voice is rough and vibrates through my veins making me feel all tingly. He’s rough and all man.
“Sybil,” I tell him, losing my place in line and unable to peel my eyes from his smile. Dang he’s cute. Really cute in that way you just know he could set your panties on fire and rock your world.
“Sybil. I like that.” He shoots me another smile and warmth flutters in my lower belly.
“Thanks. Me too,” I tell him and roll my eyes at my own awkwardness.
“I didn’t mean to knock you down and spill my beer on you. I was trying to get through and tripped over some bi—broad’s shoe.”
I shrug. “Accidents happen. You didn’t get me too bad. I’m just a little wet.”
“Hmm only a little. Gonna have to see what I can do about that.” My cheeks glow red. I know what he’s implying. Diego nods his head back toward the bar. “You want to get that drink?”
I hold my wrist up to show him that they won’t serve me.
“Don’t worry about it. I come here all the time.” He takes my hand again, cuts the yellow band off my wrist with a pocketknife, and shoves it in his pocket.
I smirk at him. “Souvenir?”