When they finished eating, she quickly cleaned everything up on a commercial break and popped the top on another beer. Harry had already moved to the couch and was sprawled across the cushions, eyes glued to the television and a beer bottle dangling loosely from his fingertips.
Bailey sank onto the cushion next to him and took a long pull from her bottle. At the next commercial break, she saw Harry look at her from the corner of her eye.
“So, you coming to our next gig?” he asked nonchalantly as he took a long pull from his bottle.
“When is it again?” She tried to remember, but she was terrible with dates and drew a blank.
“This weekend.”
Bailey thought ahead. She really needed to get those lessons done, but going to hear Harry sing with Southern Sands was always worth it, especially when they were getting along well like they were now. She could certainly make the time to go see them play. She’d always make time for that.
She nodded. “Yeah, I’ll try to make it. I’ll talk to Karlie and see if we can ride together. I’ll get the details from her.”
Harry grinned and nodded. “Awesome.”
The show came back on and they both turned their attention back to it. However, Bailey now found herself unable to concentrate on what they were saying. She was, instead, watching Harry from the corner of her eye. She watched as he shifted on the cushion, crossing an ankle over his knee as he slouched further into the cushion. He pushed his hair back, the long brown strands just this side of too long.
Quickly, her thoughts turned to what was underneath his clothing. Harry was tall and thin, wiry almost, but he did have some muscle definition. However, where Jax—the blond lead guitarist of Southern Sands—was noticeably ripped, Harry was more subtly built. She intimately knew the strength in his arms, the abs on his stomach, and the muscles cording his thighs.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Harry said, startling Bailey from her salacious thoughts.
She coughed and placed her half-empty bottle on the end table next to her. “What?” she asked, not taking her eyes off him.
“I saw you ogling me from the corner of your eye. Take a picture and it’ll last longer,” he said with another broad grin.
Bailey’s mouth opened and closed a few times, unsure of what to say. She finally settled on, “I was not.”
Harry rolled his eyes and drained his beer bottle, placing it on the coffee table before wrapping his fingers around her arm and jerking her to him. As she lost her balance and fell toward him, he pulled her into his lap, draping her legs over his thighs as his hands came to rest on her hips.
They were now face to face. She could feel his breath tickling her neck.
“Hmm…I think you’re lyin’,” he whispered, pressing a light kiss to her neck.
She shivered at the caress and moved her head to the side in invitation for him to continue. He peppered kisses down her throat and up to her lips, capturing them in a hard kiss. She felt his tongue lick at her lips and she opened her mouth, accepting it into hers. Harry’s fingers squeezed her hips and pulled her down, allowing her to feel his hard length pressed against the fly of his pants.
Desire zinged through her body as she realized she was the reason he was like that. She threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging on the long strands, making him groan into their kiss. She ripped her mouth from his and panted, moaning. Harry pressed his lips against her neck and then lightly bit her while his hands moved up her sides to cup her breasts through her shirt.
He made her feel so good and it had been so long since they were together. She missed this. She missed him.
As the thought worked its way through her brain, she froze and the desire she was feeling moments before disappeared. Harry stopped moving as well. They stayed still in silence until Harry broke it by asking, “Bailey? Is everything all right?”
She shook her head vigorously, emotion coloring her voice, which shook. “No, everything is not all right.”
She scrambled off his lap and smoothed her clothing as she stepped away. He looked at her in confusion and she could see the hard outline of his cock through his pants. That, coupled with his mussed hair, served to remind her what she had put a stop to. She felt a twinge of guilt over what she was about to do but quickly pushed it away.
“I think you should leave.” She crossed her arms and hunched her shoulders, unable to meet his questioning gaze.
“What?” he asked leaning forward.
“You heard me,” she said, pleased her voice didn’t waver again. She was all over the place and felt that if he didn’t leave, he’d witness her lose it completely.
“Why?”
“I just don’t want you here any longer.”
Harry sputtered for a few moments before standing, anger clear in his expression. He shoved his hand into his pants, fixing himself while glaring at her. “What the fuck is your problem?” He gathered his wallet and keys from the coffee table where he’d thrown them earlier.
She didn’t say anything as she listened to him mutter and then storm out of her apartment, slamming the door behind himself.
Her chest ached in a weird way once she was alone. SportsCenter played in the background while she stared at the spot on the couch Harry had just vacated. She didn’t understand her reaction or her thoughts. She just knew she shouldn’t be having them. After watching the dissolution of her parents' marriage and the toll it took on her mother—who was still in love with her father, as she watched the man she loved move on to another wife—Bailey swore she’d never be in the position to feel that way. And she hadn’t been.
But missing Harry wasn’t good. She didn’t even miss him in college after they broke up, so why should she miss him now? She refused to allow herself to attempt to even answer that question or to dwell on it too long. It would only lead to one thing: heartbreak.
With SportsCenter playing in the background and the buzzing of her washer the only sound in her apartment, Bailey sank to the floor and let her emotions overwhelm her.
Chapter Two
Harry
Shock rocked through Harry’s body as he slammed the door to Bailey’s apartment. There were few times he didn’t have a comeback or witty one-liner and this was one of them. He had no idea what to think about the entire episode inside her apartment.
He was thankful his erection had gone away pretty quick after she stopped what was obviously about to happen because he passed an older couple on the stairs to the parking lot. How awkward would that be? Trying to smile politely while sporting a stiffy. So not cool.
As he started his car and drove away from the disaster in Bailey’s apartment, he kept trying to pinpoint what it was that set her off. What made her freeze and kick him out? Nothing from tonight was out of the norm in any way. They’d made out on the couch before. Hell, they’d had sex on that couch countless times. What made tonight different?
He slowed down as he turned onto the street where his house was. He rolled to a stop out front when he saw the darkened windows. He forgot Jax was going to take Karlie away for a few days, which meant he didn’t even have anyone to talk to. He couldn’t call the other bands members because it was guaranteed they’d be doing whatever it was they did on their own time. An anxious energy thrummed through his body as he considered his options.
He could park his car and go inside to spend the rest of the evening alone or he could go to a bar to be around people. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel before he pressed down on the gas, driving past his house and toward downtown. Being alone held no appeal to him, so going to a bar was the only option in his mind.
A few minutes later, he was parked outside Flashbacks, the local bar.
A cloud of smoke greeted him as he stepped up to the front door. He could see only the bright red tips of the cigarettes on the porch to the bar. Though you couldn’t tell at night since management hadn’t fixed the porch light, it looked like an old plantation home and boasted a large porch with ro
cking chairs. Most nights, smokers lounged in them, shooting the breeze as they smoked one cigarette after another. It also meant that getting inside was a trial in holding your breath or coughing your way through.
He heard a few murmured hellos and he greeted back before pushing through the glass door and into the loud bar. It was only marginally brighter inside. They believed in ambient lighting, which was code for they were cheap. Neon signs glowed on old wood walls and dim Edison bulbs hung from low hanging light fixtures rimmed in black tin.
He moseyed up to the bar and slid onto an empty stool. It might have only been Wednesday, but the place was busy and he had to wait several minutes for Miguel, the bartender, to stop in front of him.
“Whatever local beer you have on tap is fine,” Harry told him, sliding his eyes up to the TV mounted above the bar where a baseball game was playing on mute.
A few moments later, a tall, frosted mug appeared in his periphery. He looked back at Miguel and asked, “Can you start a tab?”
“Sure thing.” He nodded and turned to the till.
Harry took a large gulp of the ice cold beer as he turned his gaze back to the TV. Seattle was playing and Jeremy Glass was on a roll with his batting average in this game series. As the game wore on and the bar became more crowded, Harry kept drinking his beer, not paying any mind to the people jostling him or sitting on the stools.
People came up and talked to him, asking about the upcoming gigs for his band, engaging him in conversation before leaving him be. Eventually, Ron, an old buddy, sidled up and asked him to play pool. While they played, they each took turns pointing out different people in the bar and rating them. It wasn’t something he would normally do, but he was feeling pleasantly warm the copious amount of beer he'd drunk, and he couldn’t bring himself to care.
“What about her?” Harry nudged Ron, pointing to a tall blonde at the bar.
“Hmmm…” Ron paused before answering. “I’d give her an eight.”
“Only an eight?” Harry asked, shooting Ron an incredulous look.
He shrugged and turned to the pool table, lining up his next shot. “She’s got legs for days, I’ll give her that. And that skirt?”
Ron smacked his lips as he took his shot, and the cue ball zinged across the felt, knocking his striped ball in.
“But I can’t see her front. Maybe she’s rough? Who knows? But she ain’t the whole package.” Ron stood and glanced at Harry as he lined up his next shot.
Harry glanced back at the woman, but she was still turned away from them. The crack of the pool balls sounded and Ron cheered; he had obviously made another shot. Harry didn’t bother to turn and look. His eyes remained glued to the woman, willing her to turn around. Of course, she didn’t, so he let his eyes rake over her. He drained his beer as his eyes lingered on the short hem of her skirt, which flirted with being indecent in length.
The backside was nice, very nice indeed. Her legs looked shapely and if the skirt was any indication, her ass was just as nice. He’d love to see what her front looked like, see what she was packing there, but she still didn’t turn.
“Your turn.” Ron clapped Harry on his shoulder, pulling his gaze back to the game.
Harry wobbled on his feet and he realized he might have drunk more than he should have but didn’t really care.
“Want another?” Ron asked, picking up Harry’s empty cup.
Harry nodded and turned to look over the table while Ron walked away. He took a few moments to let the world right itself before studying the table. Ron hadn’t left him with much of a shot at all, but he’d make do with what he had. A few minutes later, Ron returned and handed Harry his beer, saying, “Saw the girl from the front. Amending to a nine point five.”
Harry cocked a brow at Ron while he sipped his fresh beer. “What about that other point five?”
Ron shrugged. “Her nose was crooked.”
Harry snorted as he placed his beer on the table and lined his shot up. He continued to chuckle as he hit the cue ball, making it wobble across the table and roll to a stop nowhere near where it needed to be.
“Man, you suck at pool.”
Ron laughed and Harry joined him, feeling pleasantly happy. “I do,” he agreed. It might also have something to do with being three sheets to the wind.
“Maybe it has something to do with all the beer you’ve drank?” It was like Ron was reading his mind or something.
Harry shrugged as he watched Ron sink three more balls, leaving just the eight ball between him and victory. “Probably,” he finally said.
Ron called his shot and quickly sank the eight ball, effectively ending their game.
“Another game?” Ron asked, gathering the balls from the pockets.
Harry shook his head, no, and grasped the edge of a table as the room started to spin. “No, I think I’m good.”
“You all right?” Ron asked, coming to stand next to Harry.
He waved Ron off. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just gotta get my sead on haight. Wait…that’s not right…”
Harry blinked rapidly. The pleasant warm feeling from earlier was now morphing into a cold, clammy feeling as the room started to spin. His stomach felt heavy and as his mouth dried; he worried he might throw up. He sat down heavily in a chair, willing the lights to stop swirling and the room to stop spinning. He prayed to God he wouldn’t be decorating his shoes.
He closed his eyes and leaned his head against his hand, but that was a bad idea as the spinning just got worse and worse. He sucked in a big breath and slowly let it out as he opened his eyes. He focused on the wall opposite him and saw the sign for the bathroom and pay phone. He didn’t realize pay phones still existed, but apparently, they did.
He shook his head, which was a big mistake, and slowly stood, carefully walking across the room to the little hallway that led to the single toilet bathroom. He locked himself inside the men’s room and leaned against the wall, trying not to fall over.
Heaving himself upright, he moved to the toilet and fumbled with his zipper, suddenly overcome with the intense urge to pee. Somehow, he pulled himself out, aimed, and got it all in the toilet. He didn’t even mangle himself stuffing his dick back in his pants. Major win for drunk Harry.
He washed his hands and stumbled out of the room. Once back in the bar, he collapsed in a chair and pulled his phone out. He realized he was very drunk at this point and he needed to get home.
Squinting, he Googled the number of a local cab company and called, requesting a car immediately. That done, he pulled himself up to the bar, waving Miguel down and thrusting his credit card into his hands.
“You okay?” Miguel asked, glancing at Harry as he ran his card.
“Yep, yep, yep,” Harry said, swaying slightly. “I am golden.”
Miguel cocked a brow. “Need me to call you a cab?”
“Nope,” Harry answered, popping the p. “Got it covered.”
Miguel slid his card and the receipt across the bar to him. “Be safe.”
Harry mock saluted him as he ambled through the bar and outside. The night air was hot and did nothing to ease his drunkenness. If anything, it was worse. He sat heavily on the top step leading to the door and waited for his cab.
An undetermined amount of time later, Harry was startled by the beep of a horn. “You Harry?” a white-haired man asked.
“Yeah,” he said slowly, standing and staggering to the car, wrenching the door open.
“You gonna throw up?” the driver asked as Harry collapsed into the backseat.
“Nah, I’m fine.” He gave his address and clutched the oh shit handle as they careened through the empty streets of Gunner Falls. Though he assured the driver he was fine, after being thrown around a bit in the back, Harry started to doubt that he really was. His stomach was in his throat and stayed there as they lurched through the dark and empty streets.
He was never more thankful to stop in front of his house as he was at the end of that ride. Since the town was small, the fare was
only seven dollars, but Harry threw a twenty at him, muttering, “Keep the change.”
The cab screeched away as Harry staggered up the driveway and to the front door. After a few tries, he fit the key in the lock and made it inside. He flipped the deadbolt and weaved down the dark hallway to his room, only bumping into the walls a few times.
Weak light filtered through the half-open blinds over Harry's bed. It was a homing beacon and he toed his shoes off before falling face first onto his comforter and passing out.
Chapter Three
Harry
Harry flopped on his bed, gasping for air at the sound of the front door slamming. Heavy steps tromped down the hall as he lay there, blearily blinking the sleep from his eyes. The light streaming through the window seared his brain and it felt like a jackhammer pounding in his head. He tried to swallow and grimaced at the dryness in his mouth.
Apparently, he really went for broke last night. If only he could remember everything.
“Harry? You here?” Jax called.
“Yeah,” he croaked.
He waited to see if Jax heard him because there was no way he could bring himself to move. The thought of it made his stomach roll and he didn’t want to find out if he’d actually get sick. His eyes fluttered closed and he wished for some reprieve from his headache. But that would mean moving.
He heard the door creak and a low chuckle. “Rough night?” Jax asked at a volume much too loud for the pounding in Harry’s head.
Harry grunted, squeezing his eyes more tightly shut. Talking was impossible now as well.
“Get yourself together while I make coffee.”
The door closed with a snick and Harry listened as Jax walked into the kitchen, which shared a wall with his room. He could hear Jax moving around, cabinets banging shut as he got things together for coffee. While they had a single serve machine that didn’t require much prep, they weren’t the most organized guys. Chances were most of the coffee stuff was scattered in random cabinets.
Harry (Southern Sands Book 2) Page 2