I opened my mouth to answer, but it was Lawson who said, “I’ve got her. Go ahead.”
As Savana trotted off, disappearing behind a black curtain, I felt Lawson’s hand at the small of my back.
I went up in flames. Right there. On the sawdust-strewn, concrete floor.
“Hey,” he said and, Jesus, his smile alone had my pulse kicking into overdrive.
“Hey.”
“Thanks for coming. You look—” Another slow drag of his gaze down the length of my body. “New boots?”
“Savana.”
“Of course. Hey, I wanna introduce you to some people. You mind?”
Did I mind? All I wanted was to be close to him. He could’ve said we were going skydiving, and I’d’ve followed without question.
“Sure,” I said as the tips of his fingers gently pushed me forward. “I mean…no, I don’t mind. It’s really packed in here.”
“A little,” he admitted. “Hey, Luke, you remember Harper.”
“What’s up?” Luke shook my hand.
“And this is Easton Cane,” Lawson said.
A boy with warm, chestnut skin smiled, shook my hand. “Lawson was telling me about you.” Light brown eyes sparkled beneath the brim of his White Sox baseball hat. “He didn’t make you watch him on Fallon, did he?”
“I…uh…” Usually didn’t stutter like a nincompoop. But there I was, dumb and unable to put my perfect grade in AP English to use.
“Hush, man.” Lawson punched his arm.
“Just kidding, just kidding.” Easton winked at me. Flashed a crooked grin that was too easy to be fake. “Nice to meet you, Harper.”
“You, too.”
Lawson pulled me to the side, away from everyone else. “So, what do you think?”
Shrugging, I looked around, tried not to stare anyone directly in the eyes. But that, too, was tough. Because too many were on us. I didn’t know how to feel, what to say.
I tugged on my skirt.
“I know it’s a lot to take in, Columbus, but you’re doing great. Hey,” he said, garnering my attention. His expression turned semiserious. “Eyes on me, okay? Don’t look at them. Don’t think about them. Stay with me. You’re doing fine.”
Nodding, I swallowed for the umpteenth time. “I did, by the way.”
“Did what?”
“Watch you. Last night? I, you know…watched your interview and performance.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “Yeah?”
“It was great.” My voice cracked and I cleared my throat. “You were great.”
“Not what you normally listen to.”
“Well, no, but—”
“What can I say? I’m no Elton.”
That made me smile and he laughed. “Nobody’s Elton,” I said. “Not even Elton.”
“Fair. Hey, so I was thinking…” The faintest pink hue tinged his cheeks and he looked down, his eyebrows bending. “Maybe some time you and I could—”
“Law!” Luke appeared out of nowhere, breathless. “Chris’s guitarist hasn’t made it, and she’s on in…” He checked his watch. “Nine minutes.”
“Doesn’t he play and sing backup?” Lawson ran fingers through his hair and, wonder of wonders, it fell perfectly back into place. He must’ve had a holy grail hair product known only to circus performers and Beyoncé.
“Yep. Man, I hate to ask. I know you didn’t want to perform tonight, but—”
“No, man, I can’t let Chris go on without a lead guitarist and at least one harmony vocal.” Lawson turned to me, looking contrite. “Harper—”
“Go,” I said. “Seriously. Chris needs you.”
“I wanted us to watch her set together, not me up there,” he said, hooking a thumb toward the stage, “and you down here.”
“There’ll be other nights and more shows, right?” I knew what I was implying: that I’d see him again. That he’d want to see me again. Neither of which I could say for sure. He was…who he was. And I had no claim to him. No ties. Nothing.
“Better believe there’ll be more shows. Okay, I’ll do this set,” he told Luke, “but that’s it. And if anyone sees her guitarist—what’s his name? Jupiter? Saturn?”
“Mars,” Luke supplied, and I had to shove a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing.
“Tell him he’d better be barfing up an intestine, because if he ditched without good reason, I’m gonna kick his ass.”
“10-4.” Luke gave a salute. “I’ll get a guitar tuned up for you backstage.”
As Luke ran for the curtain, Lawson said, “Twenty-five minutes and I’m all yours. Deal?”
I chewed my lower lip. All mine. If only he knew how those words engraved themselves into my bones the instant he said them. How he had seeped into my blood, woven himself around veins and vessels. He might’ve said something different. Might’ve given me a friendly fist bump, instead.
“Deal,” I whispered.
And nearly lost balance when he leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.
chapter five
It’d been several years since I’d been to a concert. To be honest, I couldn’t remember who it was. Loads of bands came to Columbus, but I never had the time. School was my number one. I studied constantly, even on weekends. Fun for me meant taking a break from advanced linear algebra to pop a bag of microwave popcorn and watch a documentary. A rare, rare occasion in the Evans household.
Soon, I’d return to that mindset. There was no half-assing college. I knew how lucky I was to get into Cambridge. The acceptance rate was twenty-one percent. I planned to ace every test, graduate at the top of my class. Law firms would beg me to join their teams. As to where I chose to practice, the sky was the literal limit.
For now, though.
I planned to soak up every moment with Lawson Hill.
As Christina Rose sang, he tried to fade into the background. He’d apparently nabbed Easton Cane’s ballcap and had sank the bill so far over his eyes, I could barely make out the lower part of his face. Which ironically made him look even sexier. I watched his lips move, watched his teeth press into his bottom lip when he played a solo.
Three songs in, Chris introduced the band, one by one.
She saved Lawson for last.
“I gotta tell y’all,” she said in her pleasant southern accent, “it’s a scary thing when you got a show and don’t got a lead guitarist.”
A few people in the audience whooped and hollered.
“But this guy right here.” She pointed behind her at Lawson, who was hanging his head, shifting from one foot to the other. “I know y’all think you know nice people. I know nice people. But this guy? He ain’t just nice, y’all, he’s The Man. Know what I’m sayin’?”
The cheers grew louder.
“He told me not to introduce him tonight, but I’m a country girl and you know we country girls ain’t good at bein’ told what to do. Am I right, girls?”
The women—good heavens, the women went crazy. At that point, I was certain every soul in the crowd knew who was beneath that hat. The girls near the front of the stage, they were already screaming his name. He couldn’t hide. Couldn’t disguise himself. They’d watched him for too long. Knew the shape of his body, the turn of his bicep as he picked his guitar. Like a writer who’d found his voice, Lawson had his own style, a style that ran bone deep.
“So, y’all, give a big Nashville welcome to Mr. Lawson Hill!”
In the morning, my ears would be ringing.
The screams were more than loud—they were deafening. Lawson raised his hand, lifted the bill of his hat just enough to see his eyes.
Eyes that were trained on me.
I was certain my blush reached my scalp. Savana, who’d found me in the crowd and stood beside me for Chris’s performance, nudged her arm against mine.
“Told you he was into you,” she whispered in my ear and chills tangoed up my spine.
Chris asked him to sing a song.
The crowd roared
&n
bsp; Lawson shook his head, whirled his finger in the air, backed up a step.
“He won’t do it,” said Savana.
“How come?” Clearly, the audience wanted to hear him. I wanted to hear him.
“Because this is Chris’s show. He’d steal thunder. And that’s just not Law.”
I didn’t know him like Savana did, a fact that admittedly made me a little jealous. Everyone, it seemed, knew him better than I did. The most time we’d spent together consisted of a few hours in one night, followed by a handful of texts. The rest? I’d committed to YouTube and Spotify.
Chris gave in and continued her set. She sounded incredible. The audience loved her. To see the love and pride in Savana’s eyes, though. That made the night. When Chris was nearly finished with her last song, Savana and I pushed through the crowd and a security guard led us backstage.
The second Savana saw Chris, I was forgotten. They hugged and kissed, squealed and jumped up and down like a couple of cheerleaders. The hustle backstage I could only describe as a handful of people packing for the apocalypse. Instruments were carefully placed inside hard cases. Microphones and amps were stored in upright containers on wheels. A guy with a headset and an iPad checked off each labeled box as it was removed and carted out a door to the rear of the building.
“Twenty-seven minutes.” Lawson wiped his face with a hand towel. Grinned. “She did great, right?”
“She was amazing.” I drank him in. His reddened complexion. The damp roots of his hair. The sweat glistening at the base of his neck. “You are, too.”
His eyebrows shot up.
Realizing what I’d said, my eyes morphed into twin saucers. “Were, too. You did well up there. For a last-minute fill-in, that is.”
His laughter saturated me, looped around my waist, settled in between my thighs.
“You don’t dish out too many compliments, do you, Columbus?”
My teeth chattered. They did that when I was nervous. “I—no. I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t apologize.” He was still smiling. Evidently, I hadn’t insulted him too badly. “I appreciate your honesty. It’s refreshing.”
“Is it?”
“Definitely.” He caught a water bottle someone tossed him. Unscrewed the cap. Took a deep pull.
This time, I didn’t look away. I stared as his throat worked. Seized the moment to appreciate the humanness of him. That he thirsted, just like the rest of us.
“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted.” He handed the empty bottle to a random person who happened to be walking by.
“Rude?” Chris propped an arm on his shoulder. “Is that what I am?”
He sighed. Shook his head at her. “No, but you do find a way to keep interrupting me whenever I attempt to ask out Columbus here.”
He winked at me.
I blanched.
Then blushed from head to toe.
Chris gasped, batted her long, faux lashes. “Are we being serious? I interrupted Lawson while he was trying to be romantic?”
“Nah,” said Savana, “but Luke did.”
“What’d I do?” Luke stopped midstride, a guitar in each hand.
“Nothin’, man. Keep walkin’,” said Lawson. “You’re on in five, and I’ve gotta jet.”
“Aw, dude, you’re not stayin’?” Luke looked more than a little disappointed.
Chris let out another gasp. Her face lit up. “You know what we should do? We should all go dancing!”
Savana squealed. “Yes! Let’s do it! Law, you in?”
His shoulders rose and fell, and his gaze met mine. “You up for it, Columbus?”
Dancing? With Lawson? Now I was sure I’d died and gone to heaven. Or landed in the middle of an episode of some wildly fictitious Netflix original.
“Sure. I’m game.”
“What?” Luke pouted. “You’re all going without me? Some support system y’all turned out to be.”
“Sorry, baby.” Chris stood tiptoe, kissed Luke’s cheek. “But I kinda sorta fucked things up for Law tonight. Gotta make it up to him. I’ll make it up to you later.”
Luke grinned, cocked an eyebrow.
“Hey, now.” Savana swatted his arm. “None of that. Get on stage, you little man whore.”
“Good luck, man.” Lawson and Luke clasped hands, did the universal guy hug, bopping each other on the back.
“Thanks, brother.”
“Law, you’re driving, right?” Savana pulled out her keys, clasped Chris’s hand.
“Yes. And yes,” he said, “you and Chris go on ahead. I’ve got Columbus.”
“Awesome.” Savana beamed at me. “See you there.”
My face must’ve transformed into some expression between fear and shock, because Lawson dipped his head to study my features.
“Hey, that’s okay, right? I promise, I’m a safe driver.”
“Yeah, of course.” I tucked a few locks of hair behind my ear. Tried for a smile I couldn’t make reach my eyes.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be alone with him. I did. More than anything. But it wasn’t him I was afraid of. It was me. I didn’t trust the feelings I had for him. It was too soon. No one fell for someone this fast, not in the real world. He had me under a spell. Correction: his talent, his smile, his easy demeanor had me. Being near him felt surreal and yet, at the same time, too real to be anything but. The ache in my chest? Real. The flutters in my belly whenever he looked at me? Real. But feelings that surfaced this quickly almost always went down in flames.
I didn’t have time for fire.
Moreover, I didn’t think I had the heart for it. Not with someone who made that same heart double in size whenever he so much as brushed his fingers against my skin.
I followed him out back and the lights of a black Ford F-250 lit up.
“There’s rails on the side,” he said, “you know, if you need them. I need them.”
He laughed, and I smiled, warmed by his humility. Most men who weren’t at least six feet tall felt like they had to make up for height deficits in other ways. Lawson had a big truck, sure, but so did every male in the South. He wasn’t special, at least not in that arena.
“You control the air,” he said as I settled into the tan leather seat. “I get hot easily, especially under stage lights, but I don’t want you to get cold. This thing cools down fast.”
His gaze flickered to my bare legs and for the first time that evening I didn’t feel the urge to tug on my skirt.
“Why don’t we roll down the windows?”
“Great idea.” He hit the automatic button for each side, then opened the moonroof above our heads.
I looked up and felt my face split into a smile at the sight of a sky full of twinkling stars.
“Right?” He put the truck in gear. “Same day I went to buy this baby, I’d heard some guy say…or, maybe it was on social media,” he trailed off in thought.
I used the moment to sneak another peek at his lips.
“Anyway,” he continued, “there was this conversation about trucks. Don’t recall the full context, but it had something to do with profit margins and how the manufacturers make their highest profit selling what he called these oversized monstrosities to gullible consumers. I walked on that lot figuring I’d leave in the smallest car they had.” He gave me a small smile, tipping his chin towards the roof. “Then I did what you just did, and something about that view of the sky? Seeing something you know is limitless, yet framed in a way that seems like you’re driving around with your own little piece of it? Selling point for me.”
If music ever failed him, for sure he could sell cars with that story.
“Feel free to change the music, if you want,” he said, pulling out of the parking lot. “It’s XM, so there’s loads of stations.”
“Nope. Where I come from, the driver’s the only person with authority to touch the radio.”
“Where you come from? Listen to you, Columbus. Talkin’ like you ain’t a Yankee.”
; “Uh, that would be because I’m not. Yankees are from places like Jersey, New York, Massa—”
“Darlin’, to anyone who talks like I do? Ohio’s Yankee country.”
I gave him my best oh-no-you-just-didn’t glare. “That’s what you think, huh?”
“Fact.” He gazed at me from the side, eyebrow cocked, the hottest simper on his lips. Challenging me to prove him wrong.
Which, to be honest, I couldn’t. I mean, I could have, but it wouldn’t’ve been fair. Sophomore year, my Confederates vs. Yankees essay won first place in a statewide contest. Not to mention my totally viable debate on why Ohio shouldn’t be considered a northern state would likely be a huge turnoff. I sure as hell didn’t want Lawson turned off.
Especially since his eyes kept slipping to my legs.
But neither could I let him tease me without facing the consequences.
“Fine, then,” I said. “Just for that? I’m changing the station.”
“Be my guest.”
I punched buttons until I hit an all 80’s station. If You Leave by O.M.D had just started. When I was a kid, I had a huge crush on John Cryer, aka Duckie in Pretty in Pink. Never mind he was thirty plus years older than me. To my mind, he remained trapped in time. Once a duck man, always a duck man. Dad bought me the soundtrack for my twelfth birthday and, surprise, surprise, I couldn’t get enough of it.
Pleased by my luck (finally, a song I knew!), I turned up the volume. Sat back. And tried not to look at him.
Hard, considering his thigh was right there.
And his hand was grasping the steering wheel, thumb tapping.
And the scent of him—man. I wondered if he rubbed himself down in leather and pine until it seeped from his pores. He smelled So. Freaking. Good. I wanted to bottle him up and spray my bedsheets, just so I could surround myself with him all night.
Lawson started singing. Softly, at first, harmonizing with the chorus.
But as soon as the second verse began, the cabin of the truck became his stage.
“‘If you leave, I won’t cry, I won’t waste one single day.’” A quick breath. “‘But if you leave, don’t look back, I’ll be runnin’ the other way…’ Come on, Columbus, you gotta know this,” he said and continued singing, glancing quickly at me with his huge, gorgeous smile. “‘Heaven knows what happens now, you’ve got to, you gotta say you will.”
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