Page 37

Her eyes flick knowingly to Shane. “Did you make the coffee with your face?”
Shane steps closer, as if to give me a silent reminder of where I belong and I’m not going anywhere without him, or saying anything that might lead to anyone knowing what happened earlier.
His chest meets my back, his chin resting on my shoulder. Thankfully, his attention is diverted by Lance talking to him.
With his distraction, Frankie yanks my hand toward her. “Have a drink with me.”
“Frankie.” I twist away from her. “I can’t go over there. If he sees me anywhere near Grayson, he will start a fight,” I plead, hoping to convey my concern. I shift my eyes to Shane who’s still talking to Lance and then Grayson.
I know Shane. I know exactly what his plan is tonight. He’s here with Lance, and they want nothing more than to start a fight.
Frankie gives me that are-you-really-that-stupid look. “Have you seen my brother since he returned? It would hardly be a fight, Evie,” she reminds me, still tugging. “Please. I want a drink and I don’t want to go over there alone.”
“Over where?”
“The stage.”
My eyes betray me and sneak toward Grayson again. Frankie’s right. Shane stands no chance against Grayson. I brieflycontemplate how hot Grayson would look while beating the crap out of this asshole next to me. Probably pretty fucking good.
And while it’s a scene I’d very much like to see, I can’t do that. To Grayson. He doesn’t need to be a part of this shitshow. “I can’t,” I tell Frankie.
Shane wraps his arm around me, his breath a mixture of whiskey and weed. “Stop talking to my girl,” he mumbles, using me to hold himself up.
Frankie scowls at Shane, her expression livid. “She was mine before yours, fuck face.” Behind us, Grayson and Ethan are on the stage, drunk, and having a conversation into the microphones. While the audience in attendance finds this entertaining, I can’t imagine this is going to end well. Frankie shakes her head. “I’m only leaving her because I have to make sure they don’t do anything stupid, not because I think she should be alone with you.”
Shane rolls his eyes. “Can’t be any worse than her being alone with you.”
Elbowing Shane in the stomach, I give Frankie an apologetic smile and turn around toward Shane and Lance. Shane smiles, his eyes on the people he’s constantly alienating me from. Drawing me into his chest, he presses his lips to mine and kisses me hard. Shoving his tongue in my mouth, it’s as if he’s trying to claim me in public. I turn my head, wiping my mouth. “Don’t,” I whisper, my hands on his shoulders. I bite my lip and hold my breath, fighting back tears. “You’re high.”
He groans with frustration, I assume, and leans in. His eyes scroll over every inch of my face. “And you’re mine, whether soldier boy wants to see it or not.” By the possessive look in his eyes, I know it’s not going to be easy to get away, if ever.
Grayson and Ethan make complete fools of themselves on stage. My brother even air humps a guitar at one point.
And though I’m trying hard not to pay attention, Grayson is alive up there, so full of life and happy.
Amongst a string of cover songs, Grayson laid into “Cowboy”because he sounds identical to Kid Rock. Believe me, my eyes never leave his body and how he moves up there. Or my brother who is doing some kind of “rope the bull” move that looks ridiculous, but entertaining.
Eventually Ethan is able to approach the microphone without bursting into laughter. “Hey, everyone, many of you know my friend Grayson Gomez?” Everyone cheers, well everyone except Shane.
“How ’bout we get him to sing an original song I wrote?” he asks.
Again, the crowd screams as though he’s a damn rock star or something. A group of girls make their way over to the stage to drool over Grayson. The jealous side of me wants to go rip their hair out or brand my name on his chest so they stay away from him.
Jesus, can you say jealous much, Evie?
Grayson steps to the microphone, then looks around at everyone and sighs, shaking his head, a muffled laugh into his shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he mumbles, “Here goes nothing I guess.”
He sits in front of a microphone with only a guitar in hand. It’s just him, no other instruments, and it’s perfect. Seated on a wooden stool, his props his left leg on the bottom rung.
As the opening notes soften, he leans into the microphone and begins singing. Immediately, I’m captivated that he learned this song in a day. And then his eyes lock on mine. Those tears I’ve been so desperately holding back let loose. While I know I should wipe them away, I don’t.
On that stage is the boy I fell madly in love with years ago, and have been for most of my life. The same boy who held my innocence, my childhood, in the palm of his hand. Listening to the lyrics, and why he chose that song, if I ever had doubts about the way Grayson feels about me, I don’t anymore.
There are hundreds of people in the field tonight and he’s watching, singing for me. Despite trying not to, I openly gaspwhen Grayson’s head leans back and he sings with so much feeling, his pain, his heartache, all of it. And when it ends, we’re staring at each other.
Looking at him now, it’s as if everything has changed between us, but then again, nothing at all. In most ways, we’re still Evie and Grayson.
He blinks, slowly, taking a shaky breath. “Evie, you—” He pauses, rubbing his hand over his face. And then he drops his hand, his eyes intent on mine. “I love you. That song was for you.”