Page 12 of Not a Friend (Crescent Light #1)

Every note lingered, the melody full of yearning.

When he came in with the first lines, he sang them with such tenderness that it was as if they were private.

A secret he wasn’t sure he should tell. It was like he was unzipping himself and bearing his soul to the attentive crowd gathered around.

The buzzing bar had gone quiet, everyone holding their breath as they listened.

Then, for a moment, Nate fell completely silent. So silent you could hear a pin drop.

A ghost of a smile played on his lips for a split second before the entire bar erupted with sound. In perfect unison, every member of Crescent Light played a resounding chord at full volume, followed by Nate’s voice as the chorus cut through the thunderous noise.

The quality of Nate’s voice was unlike anything I’d ever heard live before.

It was clear and smooth, much like his speaking voice, but held another quality altogether I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

He was the kind of singer who could captivate every person in a room, regardless of whether he was playing to a crowd of ten people or ten thousand.

One song led into the next, then the next.

Aside from the fact this was the band of the guy I’d had an enjoyable night with (understatement of the century), I genuinely loved each song Crescent Light played.

They mixed and incorporated genres, melding each song with influences from indie, rock, folk, and pop.

The sheer musicality they exuded was unbelievable, especially in a tiny hole-in-the-wall like Brick Road Bar.

The music lover in me couldn’t look away, even if I wanted.

The lead guitarist moved his hands from the guitar to the keyboard positioned in front of him for the bridge of one song, then back on the guitar again for the rest. At one point, the bassist picked up drumsticks and added a layer of percussion, rounding out sounds as he harmonized with backing vocals.

Nate also moved to the keyboard for a time, playing there for an entire song while singing.

There was even a point where Jared had one hand wrapped around a drumstick, keeping the pulse of the song going, while the other hand played on a synthesizer positioned next to him.

They moved effortlessly from instrument to instrument, each song more addicting to witness than the last.

More than anything, though, the four men on stage looked like they were having the time of their lives. Even when they weren’t providing backing vocals, the other three members mouthed along to every word, animating the lyrics, smiling at each other, dancing and swaying as they played.

I was entranced.

“Hey guys,” a voice behind us greeted. The show had ended twenty minutes earlier, and a fresh round of pitchers appeared on our table shortly after.

I swept my hair over my shoulder to find Nate towering along with his bandmates. The short sides of his hair were slightly damp with sweat, his cheeks still a little flushed.

Was he this pretty a few weeks ago?

“Hey, baby brother!” Grant stood to hug Jared just as he circled the table. “Grab a seat.”

We cleared the table of empty glasses as they sat, Nate taking the barstool next to me, Jared filling the spot on the other side of Gemma.

She immediately struck up a conversation with the two of them like they’d known each other for years.

The other two members of Crescent Light stood at the other side of the table.

Miles, the curly-haired bassist with warm brown skin, smiled a boyish smile as he laughed at Martinez.

Leo, the guitarist with dark features who shared piano duties with Nate, stood slightly shorter next to him, stoic as he listened.

Nate and I hadn’t spoken since our hookup. I’d left early the morning after, while he was still half-asleep, and we never got around to exchanging phone numbers. Though if he wanted to reach out, he could have gotten mine pretty easily through Grant and Gemma.

I wasn’t sure how to handle his proximity.

Should I be friendly? Ignore him? Act like he was any other guy I’d just met?

I’d never been in this situation before. Usually, one-night stands stayed just that—one night and a clean break.

Sleeping together didn’t mean we were friends. He didn’t owe me his time or attention just because we’d hooked up, nor did I owe him mine. But his looming presence hung in the air like the atmosphere holding its breath before a storm. Pressure building ever so slightly as seconds ticked on.

Relief washed over me when he broke it.

“Hey,” Nate murmured, nudging my shoulder.

“Hi,” I whispered back.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight.”

“Grant invited us out. I didn’t know you were playing.” I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to justify my presence. Too scared to seem like I was overly eager, I supposed. “I enjoyed the show. You guys are really good.”

“Yeah?” He leaned across me and reached for the pitcher of beer. I didn’t lean away when his face came only inches from mine. “I’m glad you came. How’ve you been? ”

He slipped easily into conversation with the casual comfortability of someone I could have known for years. I wondered if he ever felt awkward or out of place.

“Good,” I said, playing with the rim of my glass. “Swamped already with pre-work for next semester. It’s probably good I got out of the house tonight.”

“See?” Gemma cut in, the eavesdropper. “I told you coming out with me tonight would be fun! She’s been locking herself in her room to do homework way too fucking much for it technically still being winter break.”

“So diligent,” Nate teased, passing me a sideways look.

“That’s enough,” I chastised. “Both of you.”

Gemma blew me a kiss from across the table, then turned back to Grant and Miles, who were locked in an animated debate about whether or not Luke Skywalker would have ended up a Sith Lord instead of a Jedi if he and Leia had been raised from birth by Anakin.

Nate’s hand bridged the gap between our legs as he absentmindedly ran a fingertip along the outer seam of my jeans. “I’m going to step outside for a minute,” he said in a hushed tone. “Wanna join me?”

I nodded, sliding off my stool, and followed him closely.

The wind outside was refreshing compared to the stuffy, stale air inside Brick Road Bar, but it turned frigid after only a few seconds. I pulled the sleeves of my sweater over my hands as Nate took up a spot against the worn brick wall and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a smoker,” I said. There had been no detectable evidence of it a few weeks ago. “Does it help your singing voice or hurt it? ”

He smirked around the butt of the cigarette. “I have no idea. I’m not a smoker— wasn’t a smoker.” He pulled it out of his mouth, searching for the right words. “I’m smoking, yes, but I’m not a smoker.”

I raised my eyebrows at him, stifling a laugh.

A sigh of mock defeat. “I’m trying to quit,” he said, placing the end back in his mouth and lighting it.

“Is that how it works?”

He smirked and offered the cigarette to me. “Wanna not be a smoker with me?”

I didn’t think twice about plucking it from Nate’s fingers and taking a puff.

“What are you studying, by the way?” He leaned a shoulder against the brick. “I don’t think we ever got around to that last time we… hung out.”

I mirrored his stance. “No, I don’t think we did.”

He laughed through his nose.

“I’m getting my master’s in journalism,” I said.

“And undergrad?”

“Mass communications with a minor in music.”

His eyebrows rose as he hummed in approval.

“What about you?” I asked, reaching for the cigarette again. “I didn’t think they offered a ‘rockstar’ track.”

“Close,” he chuckled, running a hand through his dark hair. “Computer science with a music production minor in undergrad. Master’s in audio engineering.”

“Very impressive.”

He shrugged, taking another pull and blowing it away. “I’m a computer nerd under all this bravado. What can I say? ”

When we returned to the warmth inside, the group had dealt another round of cards on the table, this time including Nate and Jared.

“Yeah, I don’t have enough patience for that fucking game,” Leo mumbled when they tried to peer pressure him and Miles into playing, to no avail.

The game was even more complicated with six players, and I had the sudden realization I was going to have to shuffle a larger deck of cards and deal to even more people. I was able to make do with a small deck when it was only four of us, but now there was a double deck in play.

I was horrible at shuffling cards. Monstrously horrible.

I always got in my head and fumbled them, or worse, dropped them on the ground.

The sounds of my older brothers poking fun at me as a kid attempting to shuffle a Phase 10 deck rang through my mind, and I was stressing about having to get on my hands and knees in front of Nate and his friends to fish rogue cards from under the table before it was even my turn to deal.

Thankfully, Grant got up for a refill, and Martinez and Jared immediately went into conversation when it was my turn.

Good. The more distracted they were, the fewer witnesses I had to my embarrassment.

I split the flimsy deck and dropped cards from the front to the back of the deck, a few at a time.

It was a pathetic attempt and not nearly good enough to make sure they were properly shuffled.

Slow and steady.

A hand dropped by mine, palm up. Nate eyed the sloppily-handled cards before his gaze landed on my face.

“I can do it,” he offered softly, “if you want.”

I gave him a small, grateful smile and dropped the deck into his hand. One rogue card flew out, but it landed only an inch away. He shuffled quickly—expertly, without a fuss—and placed the deck face-down in front of me to deal.

“Thank you,” I mumbled.

“Of course.”

Gemma and I opted out of the next game in favor of watching. We had just as much—if not more—fun watching them play and trash-talk each other. I felt strangely at home surrounded by Grant and Nate’s group of friends. We fit right in. No questions asked.

As the night drew to a close and bar tabs were paid—Grant covering Martinez’s share—Nate rested a hand on my knee and leaned in close so only I could hear.

“Do you want to come back to my place tonight?”

My eyes met his for only a second before I nodded.

He smiled a wide, close-lipped smile. “Don’t leave without giving me your number this time.”