Deep (Stage Dive, #4)(8)
Of course, I knew who he was. Ben Nicholson, the bass player for Stage Dive. But his presence in music videos or Anne’s extensive collection of posters had never affected me like this. To be here, seeing him in the flesh, was a different experience altogether. My blood ran hot and my mind emptied. My body, though—it was as if it went on red alert, tuned in to every little move he made.
The man was magic. He made me feel.
Maybe love, marriage, and commitment weren’t all some archaic social construct designed to give our young the best chance of survival. Maybe there was more to it. I don’t know. Whatever this emotion was, however, I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anything.
The music went on and on, and I stood staring, lost.
*
Hours later they finally stopped playing. Roadies flooded the stage, relieving the guys of their instruments, slapping them on the back and chatting. Everyone knew their jobs to perfection and it was fascinating to watch. Soon the four men approached us, looking thoroughly bedraggled. Sweat dripped off their hair, running down their tired but smiling faces. My walking male fantasy had an energy drink attached to his lips, the liquid in the bottle disappearing at lightning speed as he chugged it down. The closer he got and the more I saw, the more my body wanted. The way his T-shirt clung to him, dark from perspiration, made me start panting. The salty scent of sweat coming from his body got me sky-high. I’d sincerely love to explore what else he enjoyed doing that involved getting overheated.
Hells yes, sign me up for some of that.
Up this close, I could see the start of little lines beside his dark eyes. So he was a bit older than me. He couldn’t be more than thirty or so, surely, and what was ten years between soul mates? And yes, I knew I was getting a bit overexcited. I just couldn’t help it; the way he made me feel didn’t come in halves. There could be no moderation.
I didn’t tune in to the talk, just him. The rest of the world could disappear for good. I’d happily stand and stare at Ben Nicholson for hours. Days. Weeks.
One of those big hands ran over his short hair and I swear my sex wept in gratitude at the sight. I was out of control. If he fondled his beard I might faint.
“I’m starving,” he said, his deep voice in every way a perfect, wonderful thing. “We finding somewhere to eat and drink?”
“Yes.”
Dark eyes turned my way, looking down, noticing me for the first time. Oh lord, it was like an epiphany, being held in his gaze. It was starlight and moonbeams and all that fantastical ridiculous stuff I’d spent the last seven years mocking care of my parent’s example. This man’s existence gave it all back to me—hope, love, things like that. He made me a true believer once more.
Then he gave me a slow looking over. I stood still, grinning, waiting, and inviting his perusal. Fair was fair, I’d been ogling him for hours. And while I might not be putting any supermodels out of a job anytime soon (average height, not much up front, but curvy in the back—just like my sister), he’d be hard pressed to find a girl who could beat me for open and eager enthusiasm. I might only come up to his shoulder, but god damn would I make bending down worth his while.
Slowly, a smile curved his lips, making my heart jump with glee. The man reduced me to the state of a starstruck teenager. Yes to anything and everything that might possibly cross his mind.
“Well, okay then,” he said.
“Don’t you have to get back to school, Liz?” someone asked. Anne. Right. Whatever.
Man, he was divine. Maybe god existed after all. There might be a few more topics besides love that I’d need to reassess. What a day of revelations.
“No, I’m fine.”
“I thought you had an assignment to do?” My sister’s voice tightened in a way which normally sent red sirens screaming through me. But try as she might, I would not be swayed.
“Nope.”
“Lizzy,” she grated out.
“Ladies, ladies,” said Mal. “We got a problem here?”
There were no problems anywhere. Not so long as Ben’s gaze stayed fixed on me, making my world turn round. My smile grew shaky as our lustful staring contest continued. Then the man smirked playfully and butterflies went berserk in my belly. Damn him, I would not look away. I could and would win.
But suddenly there was a distinct disturbance in the happy. Some woman was wound around Mal, giggling and cooing and carrying on. And the problem was, that woman was not my sister. Instead, Anne stood watching the scene with her face pale and her mouth set in a grim, resigned line.
Like f*ck.
All thoughts of Ben faded from my mind like I was waking from a dream. Sisterly duties called to me loud and proud.
“Hey, Mal,” I said, trying for happy-go-lucky and probably failing miserably. “Should we invite Anne’s friend Reece along to eat? He often does stuff with us on Sundays.”
Reece was her boss and sometime crush. At least until Mal had come along. I most certainly wasn’t above using petty jealousy to further the cause.
Anne’s brows drew tight. “I think Reece said he’d be busy.”
I gave her my best guileless look. “No. Really? Why don’t you give him a call and check, Anne?”
“Maybe another—”
“Fuck no, Lizzy. I mean, I don’t think there’ll be room.” The moron rock star looked around, finally noticing the assorted embarrassed faces (his friends’) and the outright murderous face (mine) of those assembled.