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And Ihateplaying the guitar on “Sweet Home Alabama.”
Honestly, I’m not that good and now that Grayson is here, I don’t want him to see this if I mess it up. How embarrassing would that be? Extremely is the answer.
As the opening notes begin, the crowd stirs into hysteria with the familiar song. It’s basically our motto here in Alabama. Obviously.
Right after my guitar solo, which I don’t fuck up, Ethan dives into the first verse, his rosy pitch providing a unique twist to the deep south anthem. As the song continues into the chorus, I happen to glance toward the side of the stage and notice Grayson climbing up the stairs, guitar in hand.
My heart jumps to my throat. Say what? He’s coming up here? No. No way.
I begin to panic and fidget again. Two more steps and his body drags against mine as he moves around me. With my cheeks burning, I quickly look over at Shane.
I know, he has no right to dictate anything in my life, but it still doesn’t give me the right to rub it in his face. It will only set him off. I wait for a reaction from him, but it doesn’t come. At least not physically. A thickness fills the air around me. Shane’s expression shifts from confusion and all I see from him is sadness. I blink away any emotion I have.
Still behind me, Grayson leans in so his lips are against my ear again. If I thought my heart was in my throat earlier, it’s there now. “You’re doing great,” he assures me, his warm breath working across my neck. I flinch, not from pain or disgust but the reaction my body has on him being this close to me after all this time. My face burns with embarrassment.
What surprises me is when Jeff, a music perfectionist who never allows anyone but him to play this song on the keys, stepsaway once Grayson reaches him. He even bows to Grayson. Cute.
Did they plan this?
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Ethan interrupts the song, “Grayson Gomez!”
I can’t imagine he had much time to play in the Army and to pick it up again so effortlessly reminds me of how talented Grayson is at everything he does.
As the song continues, I’m actually beginning to enjoy myself and getting into it. Having all three of us up here reminds me of when we were younger and messing around in the garage, except now there’s a field full of people watching us.
When I happen to glance over at Grayson, he’s staring at me, not looking at the keys during a very important chorus. A quick wink and he drops his eyes, shaking his head slowly as if something is amusing to him.
Smiling myself, I look out at the crowd, singing along to the music. My eyes catch Shane’s near the fence and the smile fades. He’s smoking again, a beer in hand, glaring at Grayson.
How am I ever going to explain this situation to Grayson? I can’t even tell Frankie the whole story, and Grayson, no way. He’d kill Shane if he knew what he’s done.
“How ya’ll doin’ tonight?” Ethan asks, enticing the crowd. “How’d ya’ll like Grayson?” They scream in response. Ethan nods, smiling back at me, and then at Grayson who is behind me—still at the piano. “He’s amazing, right?” Of course they scream again. “How would you guys like to hear Evie again?”
You know, sometimes I hate my brother. Like now. Yes, now is definitely a moment when hate is pouring out of my soul toward him.
I shake my head when he motions me with a flick of his wrist. “No. I promisedonesong.”
Grayson chuckles behind me when Ethan holds out a microphone to me.
Fuckers.
I’m glad you think this is entertaining, jerks. I know what song’s next on the playlist and I do not want to sing it. “Love Lost” is a song Ethan wrote about a year ago and while he tells me it’s not about anyone in particular, I know my brother. It’s about two people in love but they never told one another. Remind you of anyone?
“Help me out, Evie.”
“No.”
He smiles and bats his too pretty dark lashes at me. “Come on now.”
Ugh.
Unfortunately, as I continue toward Ethan, ready to shove him off the stage for putting me through this, I trip on cords only to be caught by two strong arms snaking around my waist.
I bet you know exactly who caught me, don’t you?
Yep. Grayson. Keeping a tight hold on my waist, Grayson twists to the side and says something in Ethan’s ear. While I try to right my footing and untangle myself, he helps me to a standing position. His arms drop to his sides, laughing.
Ethan stands next me, adjusting his mic. He too chuckles as if something’s funny to him.