Page 27 of Love Medley (Med Wreck Romance #1)

Chapter twenty

Jake

I ’m on fire tonight, and it may be due to the most beautiful woman in the world sitting in my front row.

Lucy.

After this set is over, I’m in for a world of embarrassment, given that I spontaneously shouted to the world that Lucy was my girlfriend.

Again.

It seems that my declaration at Bill’s was only the first time I stated the hope in my heart .

But the stakes are much higher here at TNT—this is where I’ve always belonged, and introducing Lucy as my girlfriend to them is equivalent to bringing someone home to meet my parents for the first time.

In fact, I'm pretty sure the staff will never let me live this down, and Luke will give me shit for the rest of my life.

But for some reason I don’t care. Maybe this is me trying to shout out an unvarnished truth that refuses to stay hidden.

Maybe I want Lucy to know how I really feel.

But also maybe it’s a safe confession—after all, up to this point, everything has been a performance, and that’s something I’m very comfortable with.

It would be much scarier to splay my heart out for Lucy when it’s just her and me—with no one watching.

As soon as I saw her tonight, the words to “Brown-Eyed Girl” immediately sprang to mind. I was a little worried that it might have been too on the nose, but seeing the stars shine in Lucy’s eyes, it was the right choice.

Lucy has always been beautiful, but tonight, she’s glowing: flushed cheeks, wide brown eyes, perfectly pink and kissable lips, and black hair cascading over her shoulders.

The bond between us grows every time I see her. I’ve never felt this mix of comfort and overwhelming euphoria with anyone else. She’s everything I never knew I wanted.

Lucy has burrowed in deep, and I’m unable to walk away.

And then that asswipe Weston came in, taking the focus away on what’s important.

Honestly, it’s astounding I’ve been able to perform at all. Maybe motor memory is kicking in, because I’m distracted as hell .

I’m more of a lover than a fighter, but I’m doing my best to battle Weston with my music, showing that stupid SOB exactly how Lucy should be treated. She should be supported, elevated, and cherished.

I bet that Weston has never shown her the admiration she deserves in public or private. I may end up hurt, but I'll never regret letting her know someone in the world adores her.

At the same time, the lyrics hit differently tonight. Contrary to popular belief, “Brown-eyed Girl” is not a totally happy song—it’s full of nostalgia for past love.

Could Lucy be the one who gets away?

As I finish what I’m playing, Andy, the other pianist, picks up with the next song. We’ve been performing together frequently during the past year, and the transitions during our sets have become seamless.

I jog over to his side and ask in a low voice, “Hey, is there any way you can take over for the next few songs?”

Never missing a note, Andy shoots me a cheeky grin.

Oh, fuck, here we go.

“Because of a certain lovely lady in our front row?” he winks, fingers continuing to flow over the keys.

I sigh. “Something like that. Just give me ten?”

“I’ll make it fifteen. Go get her, tiger.”

Jesus.

Glancing towards the back, I notice Weston edging his bulk closer to Lucy’s table .

While I’m happy to play knight in shining armor for Lucy any day, part of me is overcome with weariness. Why does this still have to feel like an act when it stopped being one a while ago?

After jumping down from the platform, I make my way towards Lucy and her friends.

“Hey you,” Lucy says as I approach their table.

Whipping around a vacant chair, I straddle it backwards, leaning my forearms on the top of the wood.

“Are you enjoying the show?” I direct the question to all of them, but the only opinion I actually care about is Lucy’s.

Isabelle, who I’ve met before, is beaming on one side of Lucy, and Amelia, the tall Asian friend, is smirking on the other. On the opposite end of the table is a red-haired woman I don’t know—I assume she’s Zoe. She’s tiny, but that scowl could level a grown man. Probably has.

“Yes, so much,” Lucy says, her smile flickering even as she glances away, twisting a lock of dark hair around her finger. “I love ‘Brown-eyed Girl.’” Her eyes meet mine again, and I feel like there’s something she wants to say, but doesn’t.

I’m frustrated that Lucy’s asshole ex is diverting my attention from her—I’m dying to figure out what that question in her eyes is. But when Weston’s shadow crosses the table, I know he’s close enough to hear our conversation.

I guess I better get the job done at least. “Well, it always reminds me of you,” I grin, raising my eyebrows.

At my response, Lucy’s eyes dart up, understanding flooding her face. She’s realized Weston is too close for comfort as well .

“I love when you sing for me in private .” Her cheeks flush when she says the word “private,” and frankly, so does mine. “But it’s just as fun to see you in front of a crowd. Sorry I haven’t been here as much as I’ve wanted to be.”

“That’s okay,” I say with what I hope is an air of confidence. But on the inside, I’m once again confronted with the fact that Lucy knows me. She realizes that having a girlfriend here would be…everything…to me.

“I know you try to make it when you can.” The words come out more croaky than I intend. So I quickly pivot by taking hold of the lock of hair she’s twisting nervously around her finger and gently tucking it behind her ear.

As I touch Lucy, Weston’s jaw clenches. While his reaction is the goal of all of this, I’m more focused on the softness of Lucy’s skin under my fingers.

I remind myself that none of this is real, and that Lucy needs help, not another man pawing at her.

Even so, I wish I could explore every dip and curve to help convince myself—once and for all—that she wasn’t just a dream that slips away upon waking.

“Your place or mine?” Lucy’s hesitancy from earlier seems to melt away, and I’m not sure what that means.

And then my brain catches up. Even though it’ll never happen, the mere suggestion of Lucy coming back to my apartment tonight sends all the blood pooling downwards.

Fucking control yourself, Jake. “Either one.”

“There are other people here, you know,” the redhead says, arms folded .

Tearing my eyes away from Lucy, I grin at the grumpy woman. “We haven’t met yet. I’m Jake Whitlock.”

“Zoe Conners,” she says. “And your bartender is a jackass.”

Amelia hides her face behind a hand, her shoulders shaking in what I presume to be laughter, while Isabelle is full-on grinning. Lucy just looks mortified.

I snort. “I’m assuming you’re talking about Luke.”

“If that’s the guy with the backwards cap, yes.”

Wow, Luke has really pissed this woman off. Amused despite myself, I’m glad I’m getting some ammo to use against him when he inevitably gives me shit about Lucy. “Yup, that’s him. He’s definitely an acquired taste. Sorry you didn’t have a better experience.”

Zoe slumps back in her chair, green eyes stormy. “Whatever.”

Sensing my time is up, I turn to Lucy, hooking my fingers under her chin, tipping her face towards mine.

Déjà vu slams into me as I recall how I almost kissed her in my apartment, and I’m almost overwhelmed by the desire to do so now.

“Catch you after the show?” My voice is low, hopeful, and not at all fake.

As Lucy’s eyes search mine for a moment, I become acutely aware at how small the space is between us. All I would have to do is lean a couple of inches closer, and that’s all it would take for my mouth to capture hers.

“Yes.” Her words are husky.

Could Lucy be feeling what I’m feeling? Could this sham of a relationship turn into something real ?

Suddenly, my Lucy haze is shattered as a truculent voice shouts, “Get a fucking room or get back to the piano!”

It’s that asshole Weston, interrupting our moment.

But unfortunately, it’s enough for Lucy to pull away. Her eyelashes dip downwards. “I guess you’d better go.”

“Yeah,” I say, wishing things were different, and that she was actually coming over tonight.

But it’s not to be.

After performing several more numbers, we end with our usual duet of “American Pie,” closing out the show. My hands skate over the keys in a pattern they know by heart. I’m sweaty from all the exertion, but having Lucy in the front row is the biggest adrenaline rush.

Tonight the entire crowd has been wild and fun except for Weston, who has been a prick since he arrived, no surprise there. Even Lucy gets into it; I think maybe having a little alcohol in her system has allowed her to relax, even with fucking Weston here.

As the last chord echoes into the air, we receive a standing ovation from the cheering crowd, and then, the night is over. It’s midnight, and usually by now, I’m toast. But having Lucy here gives me a burst of energy. I can’t wait to make my way to her side.

“Andy, can you just total everything, and I’ll pick up my half of the tips next time I’m here?” I ask.

“Need to get back to your girlfriend , I see. You owe me some backstory later,” Andy says with a grin, his brown hair flopping over his eyes. “Sure thing. I’ll leave it with the boss man. ”

“Thanks, bro,” I say, ignoring his nudge for more information as I leap off the stage in Lucy’s direction.

When I appear in front of her, to my complete and utter delight, Lucy flings herself into my arms. I lift her into the air, crushing her to my chest, and the soft pressure of Lucy’s breasts against my T-shirt almost makes me lose my fucking mind.

I’m tingling from the brush of her ebony hair against my cheek and her skin against my own. I never want to let her go.

But after a few long seconds, I do, even though every muscle in my body is begging me to hold onto her.

I bask in the sensation of Lucy’s curves as she slides slowly down to the floor and flush at the thought that she must have noticed my rigid length against her belly.

Even through the embarrassment, I still wish I could hold her again—I’m strangely bereft without her in my arms.

“You were amazing,” Lucy exclaims, her dark eyes luminous. “You are so, so talented!”

Moving her to arm’s length, I allow myself to drink her in. “I’m really glad you came.”

“Thanks for inviting me.” Lucy’s pupils seem to widen and darken, and I’m sinking into them.

Before I know what’s happening, she’s fisting the front of my shirt while rising up on her tiptoes and pulling my head down for the most mind-blowing kiss I’ve ever had in my life.

Her mouth tastes like strawberries, and every nerve in my body is buzzing.

I lightly lick her soft lips as if in question; in the next second, she darts her tongue into my mouth.

A groan escapes me—how can a simple kiss undo me like this? But nothing with Lucy Chang is simple .

A stream of expletives explode out of someone in my periphery, and I realize it’s Weston, stalking out.

And suddenly, Lucy pulls back, her hand to her mouth. “Do you think Weston saw that?”

Fuck. Does Lucy have any idea what she’s just done to me? She’s totally changed my world, and yet, just like Eponine sings in Les Mis , I’ve done nothing to change hers.

As a crushing disappointment slams down hard on my chest, I manage to say, “Pretty sure he did. He just stomped out of here, looking pretty furious.”

And then: “Oh my God, I didn’t think,” Lucy says frantically. “Sam. I didn’t mean…I’m sorry.”

Wait, what? I can’t keep up.

“Hey, Luce, you coming?” It’s the tall Asian friend named Amelia.

“Yeah, coming!” Lucy says, wincing. “I’m sorry, Jake.” She rushes away with her friends, leaving me alone to flounder in my confusion.

Lucy Chang has just rocked my world off its axis, and now I’m realizing it’s too late to protect my heart.

After tossing and turning all night in bed, obsessing over that incredible kiss and its possible meaning, I finally give up sleeping around 5am .

As I head to the kitchen, my hand touches my lips. All of my feelings are jumbled and confused, and I don’t know what to think. Was last night all about getting rid of Weston?

If it was, then it was a success by those standards. Weston should be convinced we’re together. Ironically, now there’s no reason Lucy and I need to meet up again.

And that apology. God, it gutted me. After all this time we’ve spent together, how could Lucy still think Sam meant anything to me?

I need to tell Lucy the truth.

I can’t bear for her to think that I’m still pining over Sam. There’s no one but Lucy, and she should know that.

If I’m going to be rejected, she needs to know all the facts.

I’ll wait until mid-morning and then give her a call.

Come what may.