Page 7 of Ordinary Secrets (Secrets Trilogy #1)

7

ARELLA

I’m totally going to kill Javina. While I’m at it, I’m going to kill Rachel too. If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t be sitting at a bar by myself.

Once Javina told me that she wasn’t coming—last minute, I might add—I figured I could stay for a few songs, then leave. Screw Trey and his show-stopping smile and those puppy dog eyes.

“It’d mean a lot to me if you stayed.” How is a woman supposed to say no to that?

I munch on a cheesy chip off my plate of nachos as Trey effortlessly performs a guitar solo on stage, his second of the evening. There’s no denying that he’s talented. His fingers slide up and down the guitar as if it’s a part of him. I can’t imagine how many long hours it took him to learn how to play that fast and make it sound good.

While everyone in the band has singing parts, Trey seems to have the most. It doesn’t seem like anyone’s disappointed about it, either. When he’s not singing or playing the guitar, he’s behind the drum set, banging some drumsticks all over it. When he’s not doing that, he’s behind the piano, delivering a perfect tune. If the crowd isn’t impressed by how many instruments he can play, it’s probably because they’re too busy gawking at his arm muscles straining the sleeves of his leather jacket.

Midway through the show, the rest of the band disappears behind the curtain and Trey performs by himself from the piano. He sings with his eyes closed and his lips practically making out with the microphone. I wouldn’t be surprised if all the women here wished they were that microphone right now.

After he finishes the song, he thanks everyone, and the lights go dark. A second later, the spotlight returns as Liz, Kevin, and the other female band member take the stage. The women perform a perfectly harmonized song with Kevin on the guitar. I’m just as mesmerized by their voices as I was by Trey’s.

From behind a ketchup bottle, I find one of those table signs displaying the band’s picture. All five of them look like models, with their flawless faces and matching outfits. Trey’s in the middle, wearing the same thing he wore yesterday and is wearing today: a black leather jacket over a plain black V-neck that hugs his torso. In the picture, he’s got the same styled hair and stubbly beard. The only difference is that he looks slightly younger in the picture, but not by much.

“That picture is over a year old,” someone says from behind me. “We’re getting them updated soon.”

I twist on my barstool to find the dazzling man I was just admiring. When our eyes lock, my heart kicks up a notch. My body reacted like this around him yesterday, too. It’s not like me to get this excited around men. Usually, I’m trying to escape as fast as my legs will carry me. Right now, that urge is absent. If anything, I’m a little drawn to him, and I can’t figure out why. It’s not like Trey’s the only attractive man in this city. A cute guy made conversation with me at a gas station this morning, and not once did he make my stomach flutter the way Trey is.

I pretend like his presence doesn’t affect me as I tilt my head toward the stage. “Aren’t you supposed to be over there?”

“Nah. It’s solo time. Everyone gets to show off their individual talents for a while and give the others a break.”

I do my best not to stare at his can’t-help-but-gawk-at-them features. “It’s fun to watch your band perform. I didn’t know you played so many things. Which instrument did you learn first?”

“Guitar. I first picked one up when I was—” Trey catches that my attention has slipped to the two ladies with eager smiles standing behind him. He flips around.

The one with teal blue tips in her blonde hair perks up. “Hi, Trey. Can we get a picture with you?”

“Oh, sure.” He drapes an arm around the blonde’s shoulder and flashes his pearly whites. Her friend snaps a few photos, and then they alternate.

“We’ve both been huge fans ever since your first YouTube video went viral,” Blue Tips says. She goes on and on about how much she loves his music and, more so, how much she loves him . Her friend adds to the conversation by asking him question after question. They sound as fangirly as Javina did yesterday, except I’m bothered by them and not by Javina.

They steal Trey away from me for so long, it’s Kevin who’s got the stage to himself now.

“Thanks again, ladies,” Trey says halfway through Kevin’s solo. “I appreciate the support.”

It’s obvious that he’s trying to close the conversation, but the ladies don’t take the hint. They keep fawning over him and praising him , not his music. I can’t tell if he likes it or not.

Patiently, I wait until Trey presses a finger against his earpiece. The fangirls are still blabbing as he listens to whatever is being said on the other end.

With a groan, he takes a step backward toward the stage. “Sorry, ladies. I gotta go before my manager chews my head off. It was great to meet you both.”

Finally, the ladies say their goodbyes, then depart into the sea of people around us.

Trey turns back to me. “I’m really sorry ’bout that. I gotta go back up. We’ve got a meet and greet right after this. Would you mind coming to that for a bit? I won’t make you stay long. I promise.”

I don’t know what possesses me to do it. Maybe it’s because I know the answer he wants to hear, or because I’m a people pleaser. Maybe it’s because throughout the show, I’ve been in awe of him and I want to keep being awed. But I say, “I’d love to.”

The bright smile that spreads across his cheeks makes my heart swoon and confirms my decision. After he thanks me, he sprints off behind a door marked backstage. authorized personnel only.

The moment he’s gone, those two fangirls materialize on either side of me.

Blue Tips speaks first. “Do you know Trey Grant? Like, personally?”

“Uh . . .” I don’t know him. Not really.

The other girl doesn’t wait for me to respond before she asks, “What’s he like in real life? Is he like what they say online?”

“Um, what do they say online?”

“You know, that he’s charming, mysterious, and really good in bed.”

“Oh. I—I suppose I don’t know him like that .”

“Does that mean you’re not on his list?”

I scrunch my face together. “His VIP list?”

“No. His list . You know...” Blue Tips nudges my arm with her elbow and waggles her eyebrows up and down. “Of people he’s fucked. I’ve heard he’s into doing it with his fans.”

“And sometimes with multiple at the same time,” the other girl adds.

Are these ladies trying to have a threesome with him? Wait... Is that why Trey invited Javina and me here tonight? Was he trying to entice us into his bed? If so, he chose the wrong woman. I’m not interested in being anyone’s plaything.

“No,” I say firmly. “I’m not on his list.”

“In that case,” Blue Tips says, grinning, “can you get us into the meet and greet tonight? Tickets were sold out, and we really wanna go.”

“Uh...” I don’t know how to respond. Thankfully, I don’t have to, because a thick guy with a long scruffy beard comes up behind the girls and speaks for me.

“Ladies, leave her alone. If you wanna bang the guy, find your own way. You’re making her uncomfortable.”

That’s putting it lightly.

Blue Tips shoots Scruffy Guy a dirty look. “Mind your own business.”

The man uses his large body to stand in front of me protectively. “Walk.”

The girls glance at each other, then silently agree to leave. They mutter foul words under their breath as they slither away.

“Thanks for that,” I say once they’re gone.

“No worries.” The towering man sticks out a hand with a smile. “I’m Dex.”

“Ari.” I shake his thick palm. That’s two days in a row now that I’ve shaken hands with a man and didn’t feel violated by it. I’m making wonderful progress.

Dex slides onto the empty barstool next to me and takes a swig of his beer. “Pretty name. Where ya from?”

“Around here,” I say vaguely. While I’m grateful he told those girls off, it wasn’t an open invitation to befriend me. He seems to think it was though.

As Kevin leaves the stage and is replaced by Trey and Liz, Dex asks about my age and what I do for a living. I give him undetailed answers like “A woman never shares her age” and “I work with kids.” Then I move the subject back to him. I’ve learned that most men like talking about themselves more than they like listening to women talk, and Dex is no exception.

My nachos are gone by the time I’ve heard all about Dex’s plan to get rich as a travel agent. I fake laugh and nod whenever appropriate. Listening to him go on and on about himself reminds me of why I don’t enjoy first dates. I have yet to go out with a man who genuinely wants to know more about me than he wants to brag about himself, though I’ve only been on three first dates, so I don’t have the best pool of results.

“And I got this one after I moved to San Fran.” Dex points at his huge upper forearm where a detailed dragon is inked into his skin. He’s been yammering on about his tattoos and love for dragons for about fifteen minutes now. Judging by the way he talks about dragons, their diets, and what their scales feel like, I’d say he thinks they’re real.

Mitch, the rude bartender, interrupts Dex’s tattoo-flaunting session. “Another beer?”

Dex hands Mitch his empty bottle. “Yeah, and how about a cocktail for this pretty lady?”

I shake my head. “No, thanks.”

“You sure?”

I’m positive. “Thank you, though.”

“It’s my treat.”

“No, really. I don’t drink.” That’s not something I usually tell people right away, but I don’t want to seem impolite.

“How ’bout a lemonade, then?”

I shrug a shoulder, giving in. “Sure.”

Mitch departs, then comes back with a glass of icy lemonade and another beer for Dex. I take a sip of my drink. It’s sweet and tangy, exactly the way I like it.

Once the bartender takes off to help the next customer, Dex goes back to mansplaining dragons to me. I thought turning my entire body away from him would indicate that I have no interest in dragons, but nope. He’s too self-absorbed to pick up on any of my social cues.

Thankfully, the entertainment is a good distraction. Trey’s now playing an acoustic guitar and singing a duet with Kevin. For a second, Trey locks eyes with me, and my heart skips a beat. I must have imagined it though. There’s no way he can see me from all the way up there with all those bright stage li?—

Someone taps my arm. “Ari?”

I flinch, jerking my arm back.

Dex puts a hand up, palm forward. “Sorry. Think I lost you there. You didn’t answer my question.”

I take a well-needed sip of my lemonade, holding back a groan. “What was your question?”

“I asked if you’ve ever been to Europe.”

“No.”

“Well, as I was saying...” and he goes on yapping.

The more he talks, the less I pretend to listen. I nod occasionally while keeping my eyes on the amazing entertainment.

After a few more songs, my lemonade is gone and Dex is still talking. About what? I have no idea. My grandparents taught me to always be nice to people, but I’m losing my patience with this guy. Also, my head feels hazy. I’m hot, I’m sweaty, and the room is swaying.

“You all right?” Dex asks. At least, I think it’s him. I’ve shut my eyes to block out the flashing lights that are suddenly way too bright.

“I’m getting a headache.” Placing my elbows on the bar, I dump my head into my hands. The music’s way too loud. Every bass drop feels like it’s rattling my brain.

“You wanna go home?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re turning red.” Dex catches me with his enormous hand as the room tilts to the side. “And now you’re falling...”

I understand that he’s only trying to stop me from crashing to the floor, but him grabbing me like that makes me want to recoil into myself. I’m close to shoving him away. I don’t because I don’t want to be like that anymore. It’s exhausting to be scared all the time and to wonder if the hand on my body will leave another bruise. I want to be a normal person—someone who can be touched by a man without dying on the inside.

“I’m gonna get some fresh air.” I toss the long strap of my purse over my shoulder, then get to my feet.

Dex puts his beer down. “I’ll come make sure you don’t fall over.”

“No, thanks. I’ll be fine.” The room wavers as I navigate through the crowd from my seat to the door.

Fog settles into my brain as I stumble into the warm night air. The massive line of people waiting to get inside earlier has disappeared. It’s quieter out here than in there, which helps me feel a tiny bit better—right until a car drives by with lights as bright as the sun.

“Be careful.” Someone steadies me with an arm on my waist.

I flinch as my eyes meet with Dex’s. I thought I’d told him I’d be fine, but apparently I’m not if I can’t even walk straight.

Dex keeps me upright as I shuffle behind the restaurant to sit on a patch of grass under a looming palm tree. I pretzel my legs together and throw my head into my hands.

What’s going on? Why does my head hurt so much? Was it something I ate? Wait... Did someone drug me? My head springs up.

“You okay?” Dex squats in front of me with concern etched into his face.

I peer over Dex’s broad shoulders to scan the area for my ex’s car. I wouldn’t put it past him to slip some money to the bartender to drop something into my lemonade, and then when I come outside, he attacks me.

My vision is blurry, but from what I can tell, his car isn’t here. Maybe he parked it in a parking garage?

“Looking for someone?” Dex asks, glancing back.

Was it...? No. It couldn’t have been Dex. I kept my hands and eyes on my drink the whole time, and not once did he reach for my lemonade.

Rummaging through my purse, I pull out my phone. The brightness of the screen makes me screw my eyes shut again. “I’m going to call my friend to pick me up.”

“I could take you home?” he offers gently.

Yeah, right. “No, thanks,” I say kindly yet firmly.

“I don’t mind.”

I mind. “I appreciate the thought, but I?—”

The world tips upside down. All I can see is the back of Dex’s jeans. His hard shoulder digs into my stomach, and my purse flops against him as he steadily carries me across the parking lot.

“Hey!” I shout. The word barely comes out. “Put me down.”

I struggle to raise my arms. My attempt at punching the guy looks like my hand twitched. My leg doesn’t lift when I tell it to. Neither does my head.

No! I scream at the top of my lungs, but it doesn’t reach my ears.

A car beeps, then a door opens. I can’t pry my eyelids apart. Warm leather presses against my cheek. My mind races to all those kidnapped, raped, and murdered women I watch true crime shows about. Am I about to become one of them?

I try to scream again. Nothing comes out. I try to move but fail. My legs are moving, but that’s because Dex is pushing them into the car. I tell my legs to kick him. They don’t.

The door slams shut as a deep voice bellows, “Step. Away. From. The girl.”

“Don’t worry, man. She’s my girlfriend. She’s just had too much to drink.”

“Get away from her,” the other man growls.

“Fuck off.”

I wrench my eyes open just enough to see Dex’s giant frame bend forward as he grunts. His head snaps back as the other guy punches him again. With a growl, Dex swings his fist at the smaller man, who ducks and strikes Dex in his jaw.

Vomit is coming. It’s slowly creeping up my throat.

Someone lets out an ear-piercing scream, then wails. I think it’s Dex. At least, I hope it’s him.

The door flies open. Someone’s warm palm cups my cheek. “Are you okay?”

I try to force my eyelids open, but they don’t budge.