Page 4 of The Pursuit of Happiness (Satan’s Angels #2)

I was broke, failing out of community college because I was so unhappy with my life, that I managed to steal a guitar from Mickey’s, a music store on the Sunset Strip, and also the very place that I met Brody for the first time.

I stole the guitar and started playing with Brody, but I never had plans of it going anywhere.

All I knew was that when I played, I was happy whereas I wasn’t happy when I was at home with Duncan.

To cut a long story short, yes, I loved Duncan.

I loved him so much I was willing to put up with things no woman should ever put up with.

I lost a part of myself when I was with him for those four years and that was the part of me that needed to play guitar.

I decided to say fuck it when it came to community college and all the other bullshit plans I made for myself because of Duncan.

I told him I wanted to play the guitar and we somehow managed to stay together until Satan’s Angels got big.

Duncan couldn’t handle that I was making more money than him, that I was making something of myself and he wasn’t and we decided to go our separate ways.

That was just the cliff’s notes. The real version is long and despairing. Since Duncan, I haven’t moved on in fear that I would have to choose between a partner and what I love, my career. Sometimes I think my relationship with Duncan ruined love for me forever so I just…haven’t dated anyone since.

And I most certainly am not going to break my five year long man ban for Slater Nicks.

Coming back to the very tipsy present, I’m not shocked to find Slater looking at me with an amused expression as if he heard exactly what I said, but is still going to ignore it.

It’s infuriating. He has a faint smile on his lips and his eyes flicker between my eyes and my lips.

I’m about to open my mouth to protest his presence in a much more aggressive way than before when he catches me completely off guard and leans forward, closing the distance between our mouths.

He doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he playfully bites my bottom lip and makes a show of pulling me closer with just his teeth.

I am so utterly appalled and shocked that I can’t help but stare, wide eyed.

When he releases my lip, our mouths only centimeters apart, I panic.

Is he going to kiss me for real this time?

Nobody has ever done to me what he just did and I have no clue how to handle it.

He looks at me with an expression of arrogance like he knows he just stole the words from my mouth and stunned me with just one action.

One action that completely just stole all of my bravado.

His grin is victorious, like he’s convinced he just won this unspoken battle between us.

I know I can’t let him think he’s won, so I do the best thing I can think of.

I turn my head so that I’m facing Ivory.

She’s no longer staring with a shocked expression, but with an expression of intrigue, like she saw what his move was and wants to see what mine will be.

I stare her in the eye long enough that I think she knows what I have planned.

She gives me an encouraging smirk and I take the opportunity to lean into her and take her bottom lip with my teeth, tugging her toward me the way that Slater did me.

I feel his eyes boring holes into my back as Ivory and I make a show for him, her hand on my thigh and my hand cupping her jaw.

When we break apart, I turn to catch the expression on his face. He still looks amused, but significantly less arrogant. Good, that means I won. “I couldn’t let you think you were the only one who could have fun,” I tease derisively.

He raises a brow and juts his chin out at me, “Touche. I call a truce.”

I roll my eyes, “No truce. You can go back to your side of the club now.”

He leans forward, caressing my shoulder gently with his thumb from the arm behind me on the couch. “But I’m having so much fun here with you,” he protests.

I try to ignore the warmth spreading through my body where his finger meets my skin.

Instead, I force annoyance into my tone, “And I was having more fun before you came over here. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to go back to enjoying my night without you trying to play dirty tricks on me to fuck my chances of winning the Muse. ”

He flinches like I just slapped him, all sense of playfulness gone. “You think that’s what this is?”

Ivory scoffs, finally chiming in, “Of course that’s what this is! Why else would you be this persistent?”

He looks between both of us before responding, hurt in his tone, “If I was here to fuck your chances of winning that Muse award I would’ve taken a different angle. I would never do something like that.”

I snort a sarcastic laugh, “And I’m just supposed to take your word for it?”

He stiffens, shaking his head as he removes his arm from behind me.

He moves as if to get up and suddenly the thought of no longer having him beside me bothers me.

He gets up from his seat on the couch and my leg feels cold from where his warmth just was.

The next thing that I do surprises even me, yet I choose to blame the vodka for grabbing his hand and stopping him from leaving.

He freezes in place and turns slowly to stare at where our hands are joined.

I don’t know this man but there was something about the softness of his eyes and the sincerity in his tone that makes me believe he truly isn’t here to fuck with us. “You really didn’t start all that over a Muse?” I ask one more time, needing verbal confirmation.

He sighs, “No. That award was the last thing on my mind when I saw you across the room.”

I take a deep breath and don’t think before I speak, “Then you can stay.”

Ivory stares into my soul, confusion on her face.

I give her a look that says, I don’t know, roll with it!

Before Slater’s boyish smile returns and he sits beside me once more on the couch.

I relax when his arm goes back around the top of the couch and his thumb goes back to tracing small circles on my shoulder.

I feel the full effects of the vodka now and tomorrow, when Ivory asks me a million questions about my actions from tonight, I will blame the liquor. But for now, I decide to make conversation, “So, Slater, if the Muse wasn’t on your mind when you saw me, what was?”

He corrects, “Call me Sly. And I was thinking about how-”

“What’s going on over here?” Someone interrupts from the other side of the table.

When I turn to see who it is, I retreat into myself.

It’s Rogan, the man I’ve rejected plenty of times.

He probably thinks I’m a piece of shit, rejecting him and then chatting it up with his bandmate and getting all comfy with Slater- Sly, I correct myself before focusing back on the issue at hand.

Ivory looks uncomfortable but forces confidence into her voice, “Are you here to sabotage us winning the Muse, too?” She teases, lightening the mood.

Rogan huffs a laugh before staring at Sly and I, specifically the place where his fingers touch my shoulder.

His lip twitches for a split second and I think I imagined the whole thing because a second later, he plops down on the couch next to Ivory.

“You caught me,” he replies sarcastically.

He leans forward to get a better look at me, “Long time no see, Aria,” his voice comes out neutral, but I can tell from the way that his eyes linger on Sly’s arm around me that he’s pissed.

Sly sits up straighter and whispers to me, “You two know each other?”

I shake my head whispering back, “Not really. We’ve met a few times at functions, but we’ve never spoken much.” I turn back to Rogan, offering him a weak smile, “How have you been?” Is all I can awkwardly come up with.

“Better now that we’re lucky enough to party with Satan’s Angels. Speaking of, where’s Brody? Isn’t she supposed to be the wild one?” Rogan asks Ivory and I.

Ivory saves the day by answering, “She used to be, but she’s settled down now. She’s in Japan with her boyfriend, Harvey.”

Rogan raises a brow, “Shit. She’s settled down. I never thought I’d see the day. How come that didn’t blow up in the tabloids?”

I snort a laugh, “I don’t know how you didn’t. That’s all the media’s been talking about for five months.”

“Guess I’m living under a rock then,” he laughs, his energy shifting into a warmer one.

The waitress returns with drinks for all of us and as the next hour passes, I lose myself in the liquor, the feeling of Sly next to me comforting in a way I couldn’t imagine.

In another hour, I’m hyper fixating on the dimples in Sly’s smile, in the way that his throat bobs when he swallows his drink, the way that his lips move when he talks.

I imagine what it would be like to kiss his lips.

I don’t think about what we came here to celebrate, which is our album and our booming success.

Instead, all I can think about is Sly Nicks and the way that I’m undeniably attracted to him in a way that I haven’t been to another person since Duncan.

My memory starts to get shotty and I can’t remember thirty minutes prior, but all I can remember next is dancing with Sly on the dance floor, our bodies rubbing against each other, sweat dripping down our bodies, the way our hands explored each others bodies, and this incessant need to feel his body against mine in a much different way, preferably with a lot less clothing between us.

My memory keeps skipping in and out, choppy in a lot of places, but the only thought I seem to remember clearly throughout the entirety of the night after Sly Nicks showed up in our VIP booth is that there’s going to be no coming back after tonight.