Claim: Volume One
Page 3
Nolan just might be a winner.
Chapter Four
Nolan
From the moment I received the first message from Loren, I had this feeling there was something different about her. Not only was her message honest, but I could almost envision her saying every word. She wasn’t casting out a line hoping to get a good catch; she was actually looking for something more.
When I told her about my friend’s band playing over the weekend, I never thought she’d show up on my night to perform. My buddies and I have been screwing around for years playing in this bar. We kind of had to growing up since my uncle owns the place. Now that we’re adults, it’s just something we do to burn off empty time and keeps us out of trouble.
I could have told Loren about me being a singer, but I’ve had my fill of bar flies and sluts who just want to screw a dude in a band. It was cool right after my divorce, but now … I’m over it.
As soon as she walked through the doors, I was drawn to her. I wanted to talk to her. Meet her. But I had a job to do. When she started dancing to the Ready, Set, Roll cover, I saw her face … really saw her. I knew exactly who she was and I couldn’t wait to get off that stage and introduce myself. I wasn’t sure she knew it was me, but when our eyes connected, we were both extremely aware. I finished the song, holding her stare, singing every word to her. I’ve never wanted such a good song to be over so quickly. It took every ounce of willpower I had to stay on that stage and remain somewhat professional.
Then I touched her. I wasn’t even thinking when I was escorted her back to her table. It was like my hand had a mind of its own and all it wanted was to feel the heat of her skin. And did I ever.
After my divorce, I never thought I’d find someone else. Wendy was my world. She was everything. It was her decision, and I allowed her to have that bit of control no matter how much it killed me to let her go. Ultimately, her heart meant more to me than my own. Still does.
So, I’m sure you can understand my shock when I feel the same feelings I did when I was married. It’s like going so long knowing you’re going to be alone in the long run, not necessarily the immediate present, and running across someone who sparks something that’s been dead for so long.
It was my brother who made me sign up for that damn site. Wanted me to find someone that was worth my time and energy. Decided I needed to actually date a woman and not just take some kind of woman home with me after a gig a few nights a week, if at all. He wanted more for me than I wanted for myself.
Because all my thoughts were on Wendy.
They always were.
And I thought they always would be. Until I touched Loren—felt her skin beneath my fingers. When my palm fit perfectly in that small area of her back, I swear I felt her stiffen, unsure how to take the innocent, yet not-so-innocent contact. Then, just as I’m about to pull away, her body relaxes, almost as if she’s happy I’ve touched her.
This alone sparks more feelings I wasn’t aware I had left to feel. How is any of this possible? Looking at her profile picture got me excited. She seemed like the kind of girl I should be dating. Meeting her under these circumstances, not planned or awkward, so natural … This is how it should be. How it should have been all along.
Letting all my thoughts go and trying to remain open to the possibility I might actually deserve something more, I walk her back to the table where her friend is waiting—gawking in our direction.
“So, are you guys out for a girls’ night or something?” I ask, flagging down the waitress to order another round of beers for the girls and myself.
“Something like that,” Cleo teases, taking the final sip from the bottle she’d been nursing. These girls are going to have to call a cab tonight the way they’re pounding back the drinks. I wonder if it’s too soon to offer them a ride home? Then again, I don’t really want the other girl in the car; I just want to spend some alone time with Loren.
“Actually, I was thinking about our date this weekend and wanted to make sure that if I needed a way out, I’d have one,” Loren answers honestly, her cheeks heating.
“This is the guy? Mr. Dimples?” I’m dying inside. This is hilarious. Wendy’s best friend used to do that to her all the time. It’s one of those things that lets me know how close a girl really is to her friend. And by looking at Loren, I’m pretty sure she’s going to be kicking Cleo’s ass later.
“Mr. Dimples?” I chuckle, my own face starting to overheat.
“This is so embarrassing.” Sitting on the stool, she folds her arms and rests her head on top of them. I reach over, lightly tapping her on the arm until she raises her head, her chestnut eyes looking in every direction except where I need them.
Taking the seat next to hers, I whisper in her ear, “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Her shoulders heave with the large breath she takes as she raises her head, her cheeks still rosy.
“Your band’s really good,” she offers, changing the subject.
“Thanks. It’s just something we do for fun and to blow off steam. I’ve been friends with those guys half my life. They’re a good bunch.” I look over my shoulder to see my band-mates doing their own thing, paying no attention to me. This must look like the usual scene—me at a table with a female patron, planning my events for the rest of the evening. If they only knew how I felt about this one, they’d be staring at me like I’d lost my mind.
“Are you gonna stick around for the rest of our set?” I ask.
“Loren is, but my boyfriend’s on his way to pick me up. I’m sure she’ll give me a rundown later tonight,” Cleo chimes in, giving me a sliver of hope of getting some time alone with Loren. Only, Loren doesn’t look too happy about this plan.
“Can I talk to you for a second?” Loren grits through her teeth, staring daggers at Cleo.
“Actually, ladies, I’ve gotta get back.” I don’t give either woman a chance to debate with me and head back to the stage.
Picking up my guitar, I sit on the edge of the platform and watch the girls. It looks like they’re arguing, but not really. Loren’s hands are flying around in the air, her scowl unmistakable, but Cleo’s biting back laughter and every so often covering her mouth like she’s hiding a smile. Loren picks up her beer and chugs what was left, then slams the empty bottle on the table hard enough that I can hear it from where I am and over the music playing.
“You ready?” Don asks, sliding his head into the strap of his guitar.
“Yup,” I respond, taking my place behind the mic.
“Hope y’all had a little time to rest up and are ready to finish this night off right.” The crowd of girls reappearing at the base of the stage hoots and hollers, one of them pulling her shirt down a little too low, exposing her bra and smiling seductively up at me.
With the way the lights are set up, it’s difficult to see Loren, but I think she’s looking in my direction. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like I was playing for someone other than playing just to play. I hope the guys don’t get pissed that I’m about to switch up the set list a little.
“I’m gonna screw with the band for a second. I’d like to play a song for someone that took me by surprise. And this just happens to be one of my favorite songs.” Turning around, I face Tony, my drummer, “Whatever It Is.”
Each and every one of their jaws drop. We took this song off the playlist shortly after Wendy and I split. It wasn’t our song by any means, but anything that could be considered romantic, I wanted out. Now, here I am, just meeting a girl, probably making a giant fool out of myself singing a Zac Brown Band song, and my band thinks I’m fucking nuts.
After the initial shock, Tony nods his head and brings us in with his beats. Out of habit, I lower my hat and my head, covering my face while I sing. I try to break out of it, and for a few measures I can, but then I’m right back where I started. Realizing that I’m not going to be able to sing and watch Loren, I go to the place in my mind that sets me free—the reason I still come out and sing.
And she’s gone.
Of all the times I wish I could leave the stage, this would be one of them, but I can’t leave the guys. We’re due for another five songs or so. All I can do right now is finish off this set without rushing my guys, giving the kind of show we usually do.
Here I was thinking I was being sweet and I probably scared her off with the song. Stupid fucking move.
Chapter Five
Loren
“I’m gonna screw with the band for a second. I’d like to play a song for someone that took me by surprise. And this just happens to be one of my favorite songs.” My heart skips a beat or two and I have to work at catching my breath. I’ve never had anyone sing a song for me. It wasn’t even something I thought I wanted, but to know he’s going to perform for me and me alone, it’s an indescribable feeling.
I don’t know why I was thinking it would be a fun, cute song, but when Nolan sings the first few words, I know it’s anything but cute—it’s a pretty loaded message. Even his band gave him a crazy kind of look. At least I know this isn’t a part of his regular dating routine.
I won’t lie and say it doesn’t freak me out a little. Yeah, granted, I’m looking for a guy who’s husband material, but I’m not really wanting to get married tomorrow. The words he’s singing, they might just be a part of the song; however, the way he keeps trying to uncover his face to find me gives me an indication that the words don’t pack meaning for him.
From the corner of my eye, I notice Kyle walk through the door, briefly look around for Cleo and when he spots her, he heads in our direction. Gently nudging Cleo under the table, when she turns her head to me, I nod in the direction of her boyfriend. I can’t help but feel jealous over the smile spreading across her lips as she realizes Kyle coming for her. I want that, too. I want that feeling that she has.
“Nice to see you again, Loren,” Kyle says, taking Cleo in his arms and peppering kisses on her pursed lips.
“You too,” I respond, unable to wipe the smirk off my face as Cleo giggles, returning Kyle’s kiss. It’s only when their playful antics turn more passionate do I get a little uncomfortable and have to look away. Back on the stage, Nolan’s fully immersed in his set and paying no attention to our table anymore. It does ease the tension I had felt earlier, but not enough to stay.
“Do you guys think we could get out of here?” I ask the pair.
“You should stay and hang out with Nolan,” Cleo responds, wagging her brows.
“I think I’d rather take off with you guys. If that’s okay, that is.”
“Of course it’s fine. Let’s go,” Kyle offers, putting his arm around Cleo’s shoulder and directing her to the door. Following closely behind, I risk one last look at the stage and my feelings are confirmed when I see him scanning our table again, an upsetting look on his face when he realizes I’m no longer there. He was singing to me. And that song. It was just a little too much for having just met him.
*****
After changing into a pair of sweatpants and an oversized tee shirt, I climb into bed and wonder what the hell is wrong with me. Here I am, trying to find someone to love who will love me back, going as far as internet dating. I meet a nice guy, who’s ridiculously attractive and might feel the same immediate connection as I feel for him, and yet I walk away.
Not even walk. Jump in the first car I see and race out of there like a bat out of hell. So, back to my original question—what’s wrong with me?
Maybe I’m scared? I’ve had my fair share of failed relationships with miserable endings. Put myself out there for men who didn’t deserve half the attention I gave them. Been cheated on more times than I can count. I even made the mistake of falling in love with someone once. He swore up and down he loved me, too, but that didn’t stop him from walking out of my life.
That has to be it, right? I’m scared to go all in? Really put myself out there? Let someone see the real me—all the broken, scary parts that are carefully disguised by a happy demeanor? I absolutely don’t love Nolan yet, but he’s the exact kind of guy I can see myself falling head over heels for only to be shattered when he realizes I’m not as amazing as I portray myself to be.
My head starts pounding like a marching band running around in my brain, so I swallow down a few pills I keep next to my nightstand, click off the light and try to fall asleep. Only, I can’t. The one thing I can seem to think about is the instant connection I felt when I met Nolan. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to turn my brain off and rest, that is, until my phone starts beeping with an incoming text message.
Nolan – Did u make it home safe?
Me – Sure did.
And this is the reason why I can’t stop thinking about him. Ever since his very first message to me on the website, he’s been nothing but an honest-to-God gentleman. I’ve never experienced anything like that before. Sure, I had the nice guys—or at least the guys who pretended to be nice, but were anything but. Nolan … he’s different. It’s a gut feeling and I’m rarely wrong when my instincts kick in.
Nolan – I didn’t do anything to make u uncomfortable, did I?
Me – No. Not at all. I was feeling sick, so I went home with Cleo.
Nolan – Is it safe to assume the car in the lot is yours then?
Shit. My car. I hadn’t even thought about how I was going to get my car back, and I have to work in the morning. I was too concerned with getting out of there before … I don’t know before what, but my car was the last thing on my mind.
Me – Yeah. It’s mine.
Before I forget, I tap out a text to Cleo.
Me – After Kyle leaves, will you take me to get my car?
Nolan – If you need your car, I can come pick u up?
Fuck. Shit. Dammit. Hell.
I would send him that text and not Cleo. That’s exactly what I get for texting with my eyes half closed. Now what? Do I say yes and make myself look desperate? Should I say no and risk offending him? Someone really needs to invent a manual for these kinds of fucked up situations.
Me – I’m sorry, that was for Cleo. I can wait for her. I know you’re busy.
There. That sounds good enough, right? When I tell Cleo about this, she’s never going to let me live it down. We’ll be talking about this when we’re old and gray. Maybe I just won’t tell her? Seems easy enough.
Nolan – It’s really no trouble. Give me your address, I’ll be there soon.
As nervous as it makes me to give a virtual stranger my address, I do anyway. I’m excited to see him. Now that I’ve given myself a little time for some self-evaluation, I can say I’m happy to be looking for more in my own life. Nobody’s going to hand you happiness, you have to go out there and claim it for yourself.
And dammit, I’m going to claim my own.
Exchanging my sweats for a pair of jeans and pulling a hoodie over my head, I slip into some flip flops and decide to wait on the porch for Nolan. All this waiting around inside is going to drive me insane and it’ll probably be easier to just jump in his car as soon as he gets here.
A pair of headlights shine on the neighbor’s house and slow to a crawl near mine. Walking down the pathway, I wave my hand in the air to signal him, or at least I hope it’s him. The truck pulls up to the curb and the driver’s side window rolls down.
Yeah, it’s him, alright.
“Thanks again for helping me out,” I say as I climb up the side rails into the cab. I was silly to think he’d drive a car. Boots, a hat and a sexy as hell drawl … yeah, he drives a truck. A big one at that—lifted, black exterior with a matching interior and it screams Nolan.
“No thanks necessary. A girl needs her car, right?” he jokes, keeping his eyes on the road as he pulls out onto the street.
“I lied,” I blurt out, not really sure why, but it seems like the right thing to do. Relationships are built on trust
and lies do nothing but tear that down.
“About?”
“I was a little uncomfortable. That song you sang after the break. It had some pretty loaded lyrics and I was stupid and thought you were singing it to me. I know it’s dumb, I really do. I should have told you.”
“I appreciate your honesty, and I get it. I did sing it for you. But those lyrics … that’s not why.”
“Well then why?” I’m more than a little happy that I’m not the only one who makes absolutely no sense.
“It’s been a long time since I had the urge to sing for someone as opposed to just singing to sing. That’s one of my favorite songs by my favorite band. I just wanted to do something special for you.”
“That’s really sweet. It just caught me off guard.”
“You don’t think you showing up in my bar was a little awkward at first? Hell, girl, I was worried you were stalking me or something.” Both of us burst into a fit of laughter and quickly realize how wrong we both were.
“Start over?” I ask, hoping he agrees.
“Nope. Can’t do it.”
I turn in my seat to look at him, confused as to why he keeps playing games with me, staring at him until he gives me an answer.
“I’d rather have something that’s our story; it’ll make it less likely for you to forget me. So, we’re not starting over.”
It makes sense. Most of my friends have boring stories about how they met their boyfriends or fiancés—set up by their parents, met in high school or he chased and she followed. I kind of like having something that belongs to only us, something to set us apart from the rest. That’s if we can get on the same damn page and get to know each other a little.
“You hungry?” he asks, pulling into the bar parking lot.
“A little, I guess. What’d ya have in mind?” I reassure myself that I’m not doing anything stupid. I’m going to go in guns blazing, so to speak.