by Lisa Suzanne
“Show me Liam,” I say, forcing my eyes away from the screen.
She taps a few buttons and turns her phone around, and my jaw drops.
“Holy shit.”
She raises a brow. “Right? They both just...turned from boys into men.”
“And hot ones at that.”
“Maybe say fuck Chase and come with me to nab our chance with these bad boy rock stars.”
I giggle. “Right? Can you even imagine?”
She lifts a shoulder as her eyes twinkle.
The car pulls to a stop in front of the hotel. A few seconds later, the back door opens and I slide out first, followed by Rose. “Thanks, Jeff,” Rose says to the driver.
He nods once. “I’ll be here whenever you need me.”
She shoots him a tight smile of thanks, and then we head into the Waldorf. My heart pounds as we step into the very white lobby peppered with rich golds, turquoise accents, and fresh flowers. I don’t belong here, and despite the expensive dress and façade I’m wearing in the form of make-up and fancy hair, I feel like it’s stamped across my forehead.
I follow Rose across the lobby. She knows her way around this place. She’s probably planned events here herself, and I haven’t been here since...well, since prom my junior year.
I can’t help the flashback that hits me as we stand in front of a bank of elevators. I wore a white dress to that prom, and Chase joked early in the evening that I wouldn’t be pure enough to wear white by the time the night was over. We’d already had sex before, but I’d giggled at his joke anyway. He’d gotten us a hotel room for the night courtesy of his older cousin, who also sprung for a couple bottles of champagne.
We’d toasted, and I saw my future in that room. I saw us getting married someday, maybe even at this very hotel, and I saw a different white dress that he carefully peeled off the same way he did that night before he set it over a chair. I saw the same champagne flutes in our future, toasting as husband and wife instead of boyfriend and girlfriend.
I saw so much hope that night when I was merely a seventeen-year-old, and it was just a short year later that everything blew up.
I haven’t spoken to Chase since the day he broke up with me. My family’s scandal broke two days later, and I couldn’t take knowing if he somehow had found out the details and that was why he dumped me. I never saw it coming, and I wonder if that’s why I’m still so bitter over it all these years later.
And why I’m so damn nervous to see him tonight.
“Come on,” Rose says with a hint of exasperation, and I didn’t even realize I’d frozen in place. Rose stands in the elevator staring at me when I seem to come to again. She sticks an arm out to stop the doors from closing on me, and I shake my head and step through.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“You okay?”
I feel her eyes on me, but I stare straight ahead as I answer her question with a whispered, “Not really.”
She slings an arm around my shoulders and squeezes me in a side hug. “I’m nervous, too, babe. I’ll be right by your side all night unless you give me a reason to leave.”
I wrap my arm around her waist and side hug her back. “Thank you.”
The elevator slows, and we both move away from the other as we brush our hands over the fronts of our dresses to ensure we’re perfect. The doors glide open to a foyer area already filled with familiar faces. The faces I knew before, though, were ten years younger. The people in this room have moved from teenagers to adults—me included, I suppose. But thanks to stylists, and in some cases, modern medicine, everyone here looks a hundred times better than they did a decade ago.
I say hello to Violet Buchanan and Norine Sheridan, two girls who were on the cheer squad with me. I spot Holden Landry and Bentley Hearst, both lawyers discussing business by the bar. I see Edward Upton and Ava Beaumont who appear to have come together tonight—a pairing I never would’ve put together back in the day, but two people who look perfect together tonight.
I see significant others standing looking a little out of place next to classmates who catch up with those they knew once upon a time.
I see drinking, chatting, and general merriment.
But I don’t see Chase, and so far, I don’t see Gavin or Liam, either.
Rose and I take off for the bar, stopping to greet old friends and acquaintances along the way. Three minutes into this shindig, not a single person has asked me about my family’s downfall. Not a single person has made me feel like I don’t belong here other than myself. I breathe out a little sigh of relief that so far, things seem to be okay.
Once we both have drinks in hand and I’m feeling a hell of a lot better, Reagan Garrett, the alumni from our class in charge of this posh event, takes the microphone. “In just a few minutes, Beyond Gold will be taking the stage up on the rooftop. Don’t miss our former classmates and their band’s performance.”
A small cheer of excitement rises up in the group gathered in the foyer, and we slowly start heading up to the rooftop, where apparently the rest of the party has already gotten underway. Loud music plays as we await the arrival of the band, and I feel excitement pulsing through the crowd. The people gathered here belong to the upper-class elite, but there’s something magical about hearing a band racing its way to the top of the charts play live.
Rich or poor, in the height of a career or unemployed, upper class or lower—it doesn’t matter. Music is just one of those avenues that has the uncanny ability to bring all types of people together, and for the first time in a decade, I feel part of the crowd again. I don’t feel like an outsider looking in. I feel like I belong.
I enjoy listening to music, but my job doesn’t allow for it during the day. I have a fairly short commute where I listen to a local news channel, and my evenings are short and typically filled with catching up on my favorite shows, grading papers, or losing myself in a book. I’ve heard a few Beyond Gold songs, and I love what I’ve heard, but I only ever hear them when they come on the radio. Buying music is one of those luxuries I’ve had to cut so I could afford to live in Los Angeles.
Come to think of it, I’m not even sure why I stay here. Maybe because it’s where I was born and raised...but it’s not like I’m attached to the area because I’m so close with my parents. After my dad spent a few years in prison and was released, he and my mother moved into a modest home in a suburb about a half hour southeast of downtown.
My mom has us all over for Thanksgiving, my brother Theo hosts Christmas in Chicago—our annual gift is plane tickets to come visit—and that’s about it for the time I spend with my family, apart from Porter, of course.
If I really thought about moving, I know it’d be hardest to leave him—and Rose—but apart from those two, I often wonder if I’d be happier living somewhere else.
Somewhere like Denver, for example.
And not because that’s where Chase lives...it’s just a place I’ve never been and from the photos, it looks beautiful. The cost of living has to be more affordable than where I am now.
The loud music fades out mid-song, and Rose and I exchange a look. Four men appear on stage, and I glance around for Chase again. I don’t see him, so I turn my attention back to the stage.
And holy shit, that picture Rose showed me didn’t do Gavin justice.
At all.
He’s not just playing the part of a gorgeous rock star up on that stage.
He is a gorgeous rock star.
He wears black jeans and a white shirt, tattoos snaking down his arms. I have the sudden urge to see what’s under that shirt, and I hope he’ll strip it off like he did at the concert Rose showed me the picture of.
They launch into one of their big hits—one of the only songs I know by them since it’s always on the radio—and I can’t take my eyes off Gavin.
He strokes the microphone stand with these long, strong fingers. He closes his eyes when he launches into the words, but then he opens them and I feel like he’s looking right at me
. My heart seems to waver in my chest, and I’m at a loss as to why. I swear he winks at me as a smirk plays on his lips, and it leaves me feeling breathless.
I almost turn to Rose to squeal—just like back in high school when we went to see Vail, our favorite band, from the front row and I could’ve sworn the singer made eye contact with me.
But this isn’t our favorite band, and we’re not in high school, and the lead singer isn’t some unattainable god of rock. This is Gavin Brooks, the boy I’ve known since I was fourteen...but he’s definitely not fourteen, and the thoughts I’m suddenly having about him definitely aren’t approved for a fourteen-year-old.
Rose starts dancing next to me and bumps my hip with hers, and I take another sip of the champagne I’m drinking courtesy of the open bar. I feel myself start to relax and even loosen up a little, especially when I down the rest of the liquid in my glass.
Fuck it. I’m getting drunk and having fun tonight.
CHAPTER SIX
“I need another drink!” I yell over Beyond Gold’s third song. Rose points to the bar just across from where we stand, but I also need to use the bathroom. She holds up her empty glass to indicate I should bring her one back, too, and I grin before I take off.
The bathroom line is eight women deep, so I hop on the elevator and take it back down to the floor with the foyer where we got our first round. It’s quiet down here now except for a few late arrivals checking in and a few stragglers near the bar who catch up on the events over the last decade of their lives.
I run to the bathroom first, where thankfully there’s no line at all, and then I rush out to the bar because I don’t want to miss any more of Beyond Gold’s set than I absolutely have to miss. In fact, I’m already thinking of how to corner Gavin Brooks to catch up after the performance, though I’m sure every woman here is thinking the same exact thing.
I realize as I order another glass of champagne for myself and another gin and tonic for Rose that I haven’t even thought of Chase since Beyond Gold first took the stage. Being here with all these people who are so immersed in the history we shared should make it harder to stop thinking of him, but watching Gavin up on that stage is making me want to create new memories.
I don’t remember the sharp cut of his jawline or the way his blue eyes almost look through you they’re so hauntingly clear or the way his long fingers grip the microphone. I just remember him as Gavin...the boy I confessed my secret crush on the football star to, the boy who played guitar and made up silly songs and always, always knew exactly how to make me laugh.
We lost touch because of me.
The night the scandal broke, he was the only one who was there for me. Rose was on a family cruise, and Chase had already dumped me, and I remember feeling so alone. But as soon as our house was taken from us and we were forced to move, Gavin wasn’t my neighbor anymore. He’d gone off to college and I was starting over, and I just didn’t think he’d have room for me in his life anymore. I wanted him to fly without me dragging him down to the ground, and as I’ve had the chance to see him up on that stage, it’s clear he’s fucking soaring.
I’m proud of what he’s become, and I’m sad I allowed us to lose touch. Maybe tonight is a night where we can reboot our friendship, at the very least.
I’m so lost in thoughts of Gavin that I’m not paying attention when I turn around with two very full glasses. I bump right into the person behind me, a gorgeous blonde woman I don’t recognize as someone from our class whose cream and gold dress takes the brunt of the liquid.
“Oh shit!” I say. “I’m so sorry.” I turn around and grab the little cocktail napkins off the bar, but they’re as good as useless.
“Ugh,” she spits. “This dress is ruined.” She eyes me with disdain, and it’s only then that I notice the man standing beside her. I smell him before I see him, and it’s the same scent I remember. Fresh sea water blended with citrus. I might’ve noticed it before that moment if I hadn’t been so wrapped up in thoughts of someone else. Even now, it reminds me of warmth and birthdays and anniversaries and holidays—maybe because I bought a bottle of Aqua di Gio for him for all those different occasions. I used to love that scent so much that I’d buy myself a bottle, too, and spray my pillow to smell him at night when he was gone, so it makes sense that I’d immediately recognize it.
My eyes edge over to him, and since this is my life we’re talking about, there’s obviously only one person it could be.
Chase Camden.
Not only is he here, but he’s here with a date, and I just dumped my drink and Rose’s all over her dress.
I want to die. Can a person die of mortification? Is that a thing? Because I feel like I’m about to.
It’s the first time my hazel eyes have met his bright, royal blue ones in a decade...and I thought this moment would be very different.
I never imagined I’d be standing in front of him totally embarrassed as I ruined his date’s dress because I was lost in my own thoughts about another man.
And it’s not only all that. He’s here, but he’s here with a date.
And I’m not.
It’s a scenario I didn’t really think through. I assumed that because I’d done some social media stalking, he was single. And maybe he is. Maybe the date is just here as his friend, but friends don’t wear dresses with their boobs pushed up the way hers are if she isn’t planning to get laid later in the evening.
My heart drops and my chest feels heavy.
I’ve pined for this man for a really, really long time. I’ve compared every single date I’ve had in the last ten years to him. I’ve dated around here and there, and I’ve even had a few short-term boyfriends, but nothing has ever come close to touching the feelings I had with Chase.
And here he stands, a slight smirk on his lips—the same smirk that used to drive me crazy with lust for him—but this time it’s because he’s trying not to laugh at me for what I just did.
He looks good. Really good.
I can’t think of a worse way for us to meet again after all this time...unless I spilled my drinks on him. No, actually, I think that might’ve been better. Spilling on his date just looks like I was being petty, but instead I was oblivious to the fact that he was even here.
I’m not oblivious anymore.
One of the bartenders walks around the bar with a wet cloth and hands it to Chase’s date, who practically rips it out of the bartender’s hands and stalks off in the direction of the bathroom. He watches her as she walks away.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur to Chase, my voice shaky as my mouth forms the first words I’ve spoken to him since the night he broke up with me.
His eyes edge to me for a beat, and then of all the things in the world he could say right now, he says something totally unexpected. “I was hoping you’d be here tonight.” His voice is warm and rich and a little deeper than I remember it.
My heart races. “You...you were?”
His ocean eyes soften. “Of course.” He reaches out and places his fingertips on my bicep. He gives it a gentle squeeze, and I feel the heat of his hand as it pulses everywhere through me. “It’s been a long time, Delaney.”
He moves his hand and runs it through his hair. It’s a little darker now than it used to be, but still a dusky golden honey. He’s clean-shaven tonight, making him look younger than his twenty-eight years. And if I thought Gavin bulked up...well, this man in front of me is a professional athlete. He’s known for his speed and agility on the football field, and he isn’t the kid I fell in love with. He’s a man now, and he’s all man.
I can’t help my quick glance down at his chest. It was such a comforting place for my head to rest once upon a time, and now it’s broad and thick. It still looks warm and comforting—inviting, even—but it doesn’t much matter. He’s here with a date tonight, and that date isn’t me...and maybe this is the big, flashing, neon sign I’ve needed for a decade. It’s the cue to move on. He hasn’t been sitting back pining like a loser...but I h
ave.
The thought weighs heavy on my shoulders, pressing an ache in my chest. He shouldn’t affect me this much, not after so much time has passed...and yet he does. Still. And it hurts like hell to see him here with another woman when all this time I felt like it should’ve been me.
I realize it’s my turn to speak. “It has been a long time.”
We face off for a few beats, unsure where this is going or what either of us should say next, and then the bartender interrupts the tense moment. “Your drinks, ma’am.”
“Oh! Right.” I turn around to get them, and when I turn back toward Chase, I move deliberately slowly. He chuckles. “Beyond Gold is performing up on the roof.” I hold up the gin and tonic. “I need to get back to Rose.”
One side of his mouth quirks up in a half-smile. “You’re still close with Rose?”
I nod, and I almost sense a touch of regret on his behalf. Like he and I could’ve still been close if he would’ve played his cards right. “Yeah. She’s still my best friend.”
“Good.” He nods.
“Well, I better head up.” I hold up both drinks. “It was nice seeing you.” I practically run toward the elevator and press the button to call a car for myself, my eyes filling with tears as the reality punches me square in the gut.
He’s here with someone.
He didn’t wait around for me.
“Listen, Dee...” He lowers his voice before trailing off, and his fingertips touch my forearm. I hadn’t realized he was so close behind me, and the way he says Dee takes me back ten years.
I pause and turn back toward him because there was never a choice not to. My brows draw down in curiosity as I tilt my head in a silent question. What? What words do you have to say to me after ten years of silence have gone by? Do you still want me as much as I want you?
I wish I had the nerve to voice those thoughts, but the look in his eyes halts me. There’s the same fire and determination I’ve seen on television when I watch him focus on a play.