Alphas on Top

by Harper Sloan

  When I finish the dishes, I realize he’s no longer in the kitchen. Checking the living room, I see he’s not there either. It’s not long before I find him on the back deck, wine in hand, feet up on a wooden post, looking completely relaxed, without a care in the world. Taking a moment to watch him, I’m wishing things could be different.

  I grab my glass from the island. Right as I’m about to join him, I spot his guitar resting on the wall at the beginning of the hall. Taking it with me, I go out on to the deck and sit next to him.

  “I never did get that serenade you promised me, you know?” I tell him, wanting more than anything to finally hear him play. After that night on the river, he never did end up playing for me, and it hasn’t come up again. I’ve heard him practicing over the last month and decide it’s finally time I get him to play for me.

  Chuckling, he sets his glass down and grabs the guitar from my hands. “I was kind of hoping you’d forgotten that.”

  “Nope. I’ve just been biding my time, letting you perfect your skills. I decided that I can’t wait any longer though.”

  “You know, I played when I was younger, but I stopped once I joined the Army. I’m not sure why. I thought it’d be hard, but I picked it back up pretty easily. Remind me to thank your dad next time I see him. I’ve been having a lot of fun getting reacquainted with it.”

  “I’ll let him know. Now stop stalling and play me something,” I tell him as I lean back in my chair, placing my own feet up on the wooden post as well. Closing my eyes, I wait for him to start.

  The sound of slow chords begins to fill the air, and I’m unfamiliar with the notes. After an instrumental intro, I’m shocked when he starts to sing. His voice is beautiful, but as he continues, I’m completely floored. It’s an incredibly sad song about giving up on someone but wanting them to stop you, and the way he’s singing is…beyond words. It’s haunting, and emotional, and I can’t help but open my eyes to watch him.

  His are closed as his long fingers strum the guitar, and he’s no longer leaning back in his chair. Instead, he’s sitting up straight, completely rigid, not moving save for his fingers and mouth. I’m completely entranced, and when he opens his eyes, ours lock and I can’t look away. It’s like he’s singing right to me, but the words don’t make sense. His voice slightly falters on the next line, and he finally looks away. Replaying the words, I can only imagine who they’re for, who he’s saying he loves, and to whom he’s saying goodbye.

  Repeating the chorus two more times, he finishes the song, and I’m breathless. Why did he choose that song? Did Megan’s appearance really affect him that much? Or am I reading too much into it?

  “Well?” he asks me, breaking my train of thought. He’s watching me intently, and I have to calm my racing heart before I can even begin to think of responding. Not knowing what to say, I down half my wine in one big gulp.

  “That…that was incredible. I had no idea you could sing. Or even play like that,” I tell him, being more than honest.

  Grinning sheepishly, he shrugs. “Not many people do.”

  “What song was that? I’ve never heard it before and it was beautiful.”

  “It’s called “Say Something” by Great Big World. My cousin’s a music blogger and always sent me the up-and-coming music when I was in Afghanistan. Something about that song stuck with me and I just really wanted to learn how to play it,” he says, apparently trying to downplay the meaning behind it.

  “I’ll have to check it out on iTunes. I loved it.” I can’t wait to get to my room now to hear the original version, although I’m kicking myself for not stealthily recording Knox’s performance.

  “Want to hear something else?” he asks, and I nod.

  I have to laugh when he launches into Kip Moore’s “Beer Money”, and the mood completely changes. We spend the next hour or so jamming out—well, he does—and he even takes requests. Cracking me up with his rendition of Boy Named Sue, I can’t help but smile at the fact he remembers that I love that song. Once he finishes, he grins at me before standing up.

  “Refill?” he asks, pointing to my wine glass.

  “Only if you promise to keep serenading me, Rugged.” He grins at the use of his nickname, something I’ve decided to embrace after Jace spilled the beans. “And I want more new country, even if you claim not to like it!”

  Shaking his head, he goes back inside. A few moments later, he comes back out, and I grin when I spot the cowboy hat on his head.

  He hands me my wine glass and sets a fresh bottle down in between us. “I figured if I’m going to be singing country I’d better get in character.”

  “Oh, I definitely dig it. Now you’re not just Rugged Man, but you’re Rugged Cowboy,” I tease, loving the look on him.

  He plays for a while, and I’m dying when he starts singing “Country Girl.” I hope he’ll get up and shake it for me. Not disappointing me, he gets up from his chair, standing in front of me. As soon as he gets to the chorus, he slowly turns around so his ass is practically in my face. He starts moving his hips back and forth, doing some weird sort of gyrating motion, but it honestly just looks like he’s dry humping the air. Poor guy does not know how to shake it without a warm body right in front of him. He stops when I fall into a fit of giggles, doubling over with laughter.

  “What?! Isn’t that why you ladies love that Luke Bryan guy? He’s always shaking his ass on those awards shows.”

  Trying to contain myself, I stand up beside him. “Yes, Knox, that’s definitely part of the Luke Bryan appeal, but he’s a hip-gyrating professional. That…whatever that was you were just doing…looked more like you were trying to have sex with some invisible person and it was not pretty.”

  “Hey, give me some credit. I only use my hips in that way when there’s a hot chick in front of or beneath me.”

  “You’re such a perv,” I tell him, smacking him on the arm as I take the guitar out of his hands. Moving around so that I’m behind him, I place my hands on his hips. “Roll,” I order, and he begins moving his hips as if he’s using a hula hoop.

  This clearly isn’t going to work, so I move to the front of him, my back to his chest. Taking his hands, I place them on my waist.

  “Follow my movements with your hands, okay?” He nods, and I start to move.

  Pushing my hip first out to the right and then to left, I slowly gain momentum, rolling my ass and simultaneously circling my hips. It’s no different than if we were dirty dancing at a club, but I’m forcing him to feel the rhythm in my movements.

  His fingers are digging into my skin, and I try my hardest not to brush up against his groin and make this something it’s not. But god, I fucking want to, and that part of me wins out.

  Pushing back ever so slightly, I barely allow my ass to graze him as I continue to move, but apparently he has a different idea. The hands on my waist pull me into him, and I almost gasp when I feel the hard erection nestle against the thin cotton of my pajama shorts.

  He leans in and I feel his lips against my ear. “Show me again, sweetheart. I think I’m a slow learner and definitely need another demonstration.”

  Shaking my head, I give in. “Pay attention this time, cowboy.”

  His lips are still there, and I can feel the smile that spreads over them. “Don’t you mean Rugged Cowboy?”

  I ignore him as I place my hands over his once again and begin to show him just how to shake it. It must be easier for women since we’re always in front anyways. We spend the next few minutes in complete silence, and I’m so glad that the sun has set so his neighbors aren’t getting a show. His hands flex and grip with the various movements I make, and when I try to move away from him, he holds me still, forcing me to grind against him as he tries to follow my movements.

  I finally have to pull away from him because if I don’t, I’m going to be begging him to take me right here on the deck. Turning around, I look up at him, fully prepared to make him show me what he’s learned. Instead, I’m quick enough to ca
tch him adjusting himself in his shorts, and I can’t help the small cheer I feel inside me at knowing that I made him hard.

  When he catches me watching him, he shrugs and grins at me sheepishly. “Hey, there was a hot ass rubbing up against him. What do you expect?”

  Not responding, I sit back down in my chair and pick up my wine glass. Twirling my finger, I motion for him to stand in front of me. “All right, cowboy, show me what you learned.”

  Placing his hands on his hips, he first moves to the left then to the right. His movements are so jerky, not fluid or flowing at all, and it’s almost painful to watch. He’s definitely hot, but this guy cannot shake his hips for anything. Knowing how good he felt when he was behind me, I realize that he can only dance well if he has a partner. When he was holding my hips, he was moving his own smoothly, rolling with mine in perfect unison. Now? He just looks like a robot trying to do the hula hoop and it’s not working for him. When he catches me grinning into my wine glass, he stops.

  “Laugh it up, sweetheart. Hell, I’m fucking glad I can’t shake it like a male stripper. I’d much rather have a pretty little thing in my arms than twerk it on stage.”

  I nearly spit out my wine at his comment. “Did you seriously just say ‘twerk it’? Who are you, Hannah Montana? Please never use that term again in my presence.”

  “Billy Ray’s kid? Is that her thing? Okay, scratch that from the record. Seriously, pretend I never said the word twerk.”

  “Well, I guess we can take hip-gyrating country singer off your list of potential careers, but still, I’m amazed at your voice, Knox.”

  Grinning at me, he picks his guitar back up and strums a few notes. “Thanks, sweetheart. Glad you enjoyed the performance. Any time you want an encore, just let me know.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell him, and I’m going to hold him to it.

  I can’t help the yawn that surfaces. Even though I’ve been having a great time with him, I’m truly exhausted after the longest week at work. Following me when I head inside, he puts the guitar back where I found it.

  “I’m going to head to bed, but thanks for the show, Knox,” I tell him as I rinse my wine glass out.

  He comes over to the sink and sets his glass down on the counter. Leaning down, he places a chaste kiss on my cheek.

  “Anytime, sweetheart.”

  With that, he backs away, walking out of the room and leaving me alone. I grab my wine glass and decide to refill it, taking it back to my room. I immediately get on my computer and search for “Say Something.” When I hear the original version played with only the piano, I’m hooked. I immediately buy it on iTunes and put it on my phone.

  Crawling into bed, I can’t help but put the song on repeat. It’s that beautiful. Drifting off to sleep, I hear nothing but Knox’s voice. A tear rolls down my face as I hear him singing these haunting words, wondering who, exactly, he was singing to and why it’s bothering me so much.

  WHAT THE hell was I thinking? With all the weirdness between Knox and me, I have no idea why I agreed to go on a date with someone I’m not even remotely interested in. I guess I was caught off guard when one of the guys at the gym, Chris, asked me out. It was the day after Megan showed up, and at the time it seemed like a good idea. Go out with someone, get my mind off the person that I really want. And Chris seems like a nice enough guy. He’s in a band I’ve seen play several times, and he’s really talented, so I figured, why not?

  But now that I’m sitting in front of my vanity, applying the last bit of makeup before I’m picked up for my date, it seems like a foolish idea. Last night with Knox was amazing, and I feel closer to him after he let his guard down and played for me, showing me a little bit of his vulnerable side.

  I’m really hoping I can get out of the house before he comes home. I don’t need him seeing my date, especially since I know they know each other.

  The doorbell rings, and I thank the Lord that I’ll be gone before Knox gets home from work. Pinching my cheeks, I stand up and head towards the door, opening it.

  Chris fills the doorway, handing me deep red roses. While they’re beautiful, I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes at the most cliché bouquet a girl can get. I know I need to adjust my attitude or I’m going to be a terrible date. Putting a smile on my face, I open the door wide, inviting him to come inside.

  “You look gorgeous, Charlie,” he says, leaning in to kiss me on the cheek.

  “Thanks, Chris. It’s nice to see you in something other than boxing shorts,” I tell him, and I mean it, not that he doesn’t look good in them.

  Taking a minute to check him out, I realize that I’ve never noticed just how damn attractive he is. He’s only a couple of inches taller than me, probably putting him around five foot ten. His jet-black hair is covered with a black baseball hat, and the dark stubble of a five-o’clock shadow on his face is extremely sexy. He’s wearing ass-hugging jeans and a Staind graphic tee. I have to applaud his music choices. Where Knox has the rugged military man look down, Chris is definitely the epitome of hot rocker. Lucy and I have spent plenty of nights at his band’s shows.

  Getting in the car, he automatically places his hand on my thigh, and I’m not sure if it’s friendly or flirty. When we finally arrive at our destination, I groan, realizing he’s taken me to the same pub Knox did. I’m in a slight daze as we’re led to the same freaking booth where Knox and I sat. The memory of his lips on me, his chest pressed against mine, flashes in my mind.

  “Charlie? You ready?” Chris asks, interrupting the memory just like Megan interrupted the kiss itself. I see the waitress waiting patiently, and I go ahead and order the exact same thing I did last time I was here.

  “So, Charlie, I know we’ve been going to the same gym for a while, but I don’t really know much about you,” he says, launching us into a comfortable conversation as we get to know each other better. I’m only slightly mortified when he tells me he’s twenty-four. I had no idea he was younger than me, and while it seems a little weird, I’m enjoying how carefree he is. I also love listening to him talk about his music.

  “How long have you been playing the keyboard?” I ask, wondering if he knows the song Knox was playing. Dammit, Charlie. Stop relating everything to Knox, I chastise myself, knowing I need to concentrate on Chris.

  The rest of the meal goes by quickly as we get lost in conversation. When we leave the restaurant, he surprises me by taking me bowling.

  “Umm, can we have the bumpers? I haven’t been bowling since I was high school, and I was awful even back then.”

  Looking over at me, he grins. A sexy dimple forms on his left cheek, and I wish it did something for me. When I look at Chris, I don’t feel a spark or a pull towards him, and I’m actually kind of disappointed.

  “Don’t worry about that, Charlie. I can show you my technique and you’ll be bowling strikes in no time.”

  Laughing, I shake my head. “I seriously doubt that, but you can try.”

  When we get to our lane, we lace up, and after a few frames, I can tell he’s feeling pity for me. I’m about to release the ball when I feel him walk up behind me. Placing one hand on the small of my back, he covers my hand with his on the ball. We’re in perfect alignment. An involuntary shiver runs down my spine when I feel his mouth against my ear.

  “Bowling is all about time, patience, proper grip, and the perfect follow-through. Don’t rush it. Wait until you’re ready, palm the ball, and let your movements flow fluidly, still in motion even as you release it.”

  Pulling back, he guides me through the motions, and when the ball leaves my grip, it flows perfectly down the middle of the lane, until about halfway through when it curves off to the side and goes into the gutter.

  “See? It’s hopeless.”

  He grins at me as he picks up his own ball. “Baby steps. You’ll get there. Or maybe you were just too nervous with me standing so close to you,” he says, winking at me. And for the second time tonight, I’m wishing that were the cas
e.

  We continue to play, and two hours and a beer tube later, my prediction is correct. I’ve lost every single game we’ve played, even when he tried to take it easy on me. But the playful back-and-forth forth banter has been a lot of fun, and I can see myself being friends with this guy. I wish I’d gotten to know him outside the gym sooner.

  Finally, I beg for mercy. “I don’t think my ego can handle losing one more round, Chris,” and he laughs at the 254 to 67 score. “Besides, what kind of guy kicks a girl’s ass on the first date? What happened to chivalry?” I’m only teasing, and I’m glad he quickly picks up on it when I grin and bump his shoulder with mine.

  Shaking his head at me, he sits down to change out of his bowling shoes. “You forget I’ve seen you in the ring. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the pissed-off look you get when you know someone’s taking it easy on you.”

  “You’ve watched me box?” I ask, surprised, because other than Kale and Jace, no one ever hangs around to watch.

  He chuckles as we turn in our shoes and head towards his car. When he opens my door, I slide in and he rests his arm against the top of the car, leaning in. “Charlie, every guy in that gym has watched you box,” he tells me with a smirk as he closes the door and runs around the front of the car before getting in on his side.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask, because I’ve never noticed it before.

  He looks over at me, an incredulous expression on his face. “You’re kidding, right? The first time you sparred with your dad, I’m pretty sure every other fight in the gym stopped. Since we’re such a small gym, you know as well as I do that we don’t get many females in there. They all go to the popular one downtown, so when you came in, we were all intrigued. And trust me, not a fight goes by that someone isn’t stopped, watching you.”