More than Once

7

I looked Andy up and down and smiled. Hello, handsome. Sure, he was a bit more preppy than the guys I usually went for, with slicked-back blond hair and no trace of stubble, wearing a black button-up shirt and dark blue jeans. But he had a face like an old-school movie star, all chiseled jaw and perfect cheekbones, and I decided preppy was perfect for tonight.

Okay, maybe I could stay a little while longer.

“Nice to meet you,” Andy said, shaking my hand. “I like your shirt.” His eyes flicked to my chest, which was the point of this tiny little tank top that read, “This is my slutty costume.” Good to know it was working.

“Thanks. I don’t do the whole costume thing,” I said.

“No, me neither.” He perched on the barstool next to me, while Hector ordered us another round of drinks before slipping back into the crowd. “So Hector said you’re moving to Dallas?”

“I am, yeah. In a few days.”

“Me too.”

“Is that so?” That must be why Hector had introduced us. Well, it couldn’t hurt to have a new friend in Dallas. Most of my high school friends had moved or gotten married and popped out a baby or two (not necessarily in that order). None of us kept in touch much anymore.

“Yep,” he said, running his fingers through his hair, messing it up a little. I decided he looked more like one of those sexy soccer players I’d drooled over during the World Cup than a movie star. Either way, it was hard to take my eyes off him. “I live in Boston now, but I’m starting a new job there in a few weeks. What about you?”

“I’m from there originally,” I said.

“Ah, a local. You’ll have to direct me to all the good restaurants.”

“Sure, although everything has probably changed since I lived there. I spent the last couple years in LA, trying to be a rock star. That obviously didn’t work out, so now I’m heading home with my tail between my legs.”

“Hector said you used to play bass for Villain Complex?”

“I did, but it wasn’t a good fit,” I said, blowing off the question as best I could. But then I looked at Andy’s face and wanted to tell him the truth. There was something about him—a sadness to his smile, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, a tension in his shoulders—that made me think he might understand somehow. “Okay, that’s an excuse. What really happened was that I f****d everything up by getting drunk and sleeping with the lead singer. It made things uncomfortable between us, so I quit the band. Then they went and got all famous. Figures, right?”

“Ah.” He took a sip of his drink. Whiskey, from the smell of it. My mouth watered. “That sucks.”

“I don’t know why I’m even here. I guess I thought I’d try to patch things up with them, but it’s clear they don’t want anything to do with me.” I shrugged. “Not that I can blame them.”

“That’s why I’m here, too.” He tilted his head toward where the band was sitting. “That girl sitting with Hector? I asked her to marry me a few hours ago.”

“No s**t?” I turned and checked her out. Oh, yes, the blonde I’d seen earlier. Who was now practically in Hector’s lap. “Guess she said no.”

“Yep.” Andy downed the last of his whiskey and slammed the glass down. “I thought I’d get some closure by coming to the party and telling Tara I wanted to be friends.” He gave a cynical laugh and shook his head. “That was a mistake.”

It was probably a sign of how f****d up a person I was, but seeing Andy hurting like that made me like him even more. His bitter sadness made him all that more sexy in my eyes, maybe because I could relate to it so well. The poor guy had just gotten his heart broken, and I decided right then that I wanted to ease his pain for the night—and ease mine at the same time. Maybe we could both make each other forget for at least a few hours.

I lightly trailed a finger down his forearm. “We should get out of here.”

“What, right now?” He blinked at me. “Where would we go?”

“We could get something to eat or…” s**t, this was probably another bad decision, and I wasn’t even drunk this time. But what the hell. I was so good at making bad decisions. “You have a hotel room?”

“I do, but…” He rubbed the back of his neck, not meeting my gaze. “Becca, you’re incredibly sexy and going somewhere with you sounds…well, really damn tempting. But today I got dumped by my girlfriend, who seems to be screwing the guy I thought she was just friends with for the past year. I don’t think I’m ready to take anyone back to my hotel room at the moment.”

“Somewhere else, then. You pick.” I glanced over at the band’s booth again—‘cause I liked pain or something—and my throat clenched up seeing them all laughing together. “We can get something to eat or whatever. I don’t care. If I stay here any longer, I’ll lose my damn mind.”

“I’m not sure…”

“She keeps looking at you.”

His head jerked toward the blonde. “Probably checking to see if I’m over here sobbing into my drink and—” Andy stopped midsentence when his ex started kissing Hector. He frowned and looked away, and the misery on his face nearly broke my little black heart.

I leaned toward him and didn’t miss the way his eyes dipped down to my cleavage. “We should show them we’re both okay. No, that we’re even better without them.”

He lifted his gaze to meet mine, and in that look I knew that every bit of self-doubt, guilt and regret I felt—he felt it, too. “How?”

I hopped off my stool and moved closer, sliding my hands up his shirt. “Like this.”

The kiss caught him by surprise. I teased at his mouth with my lips, and at first I worried he would pull away. But after a second of hesitation, he relaxed and opened for me with a soft groan. His tongue slowly slid against mine, sending a rush of warmth between my legs.

Damn, Andy was a good kisser. Maybe I should go for preppy guys more often.