Blithe frowned at a cheese stick. “I didn’t think anybody really liked to look at those things.”
“I’m neutral,” Gretchen said. “Some are nice.”
“Are we still talking about the penis?” I asked.
“I want to know about his body too.” Roxy’s eyes lit up.
“For the record, I feel weird objectifying him,” I said.
They all groaned and rolled their eyes.
“Yeah, totally, me too. We are all woke AF, blah blah. So what was his butt like?” Roxy asked.
“That being said,” I continued as though I hadn’t been interrupted. “He’s a swimmer and …” I made a swoony sigh. “To be honest, it’s more than that. It’s the fact that he can completely command a room of a hundred musicians. It’s that when he plays the piano, he moves his fingers like a magician. It’s that he can come up with an entire symphonic movement in his brain from nothing. It’s almost like sorcery. I mean, that’s incredible.” I shook my head with a laugh. “And he can be really funny, too. It always surprises me when he makes me laugh because he tries to be so stern. Gosh, and you should hear him talk about his family. He has these two nieces—”
Four sets of eyes blinked at me.
“But it’s obviously just physical attraction,” Suzie said, a perfectly arched eyebrow judging me.
“I don’t really know him. He hides himself. There’s a lot that’s off limits. I’m not gonna go telling Devlin I have this huge embarrassing crush only for him to look at me like I’m something he stepped in.”
Devlin’s intentions toward me were so unclear. Sometimes it seemed like he maybe he was … I dunno, looking at me like a man looked at a woman. Other times we felt like no more than two business partners working toward the same goal.
“Can we talk about anything else?” I asked. “Suzie, how’s the studio?”
“Crazy busy. It’s amazing,” Suzie said. We talked about Ford’s Fosters and their fantastic visit. Suzie was in the middle of a story about Ford and Jack fighting over the proper way to load the dishwasher when her face completely changed and she cut herself off. “OH MY GOD!”
I looked to the door. I thought maybe Nico Manganiello had walked in. Stranger things had happened in Green Valley. A girl could dream.
When I brought my focus back to her, Suzie was looking at me like she’d just figured out crypto-currency. “You saw it.”
“Yes. Penis. We get it. Can we move on? I’m feeling weird about it.” Blithe threw a limp cheese-stick back in the plastic basket.
“Nooo. No, no, no …” Suzie shook her head. “That’s not what I mean.”
Adrenaline spiked my heart rate. Thankfully our waitress came to check on us. She was a cute brunette named Patty, about our age, maybe a little younger.
“Can I get y’all another round?” she asked.
Everybody nodded or said yes. “Anything else for you?” she asked me.
“Just water,” I said. She was about to leave, but I didn’t want to have to get back to Suzie’s discovery. I desperately wracked my brains for small talk. “Patty, how’s your momma?” I asked.
Patty placed a hand on her hip and cocked an eyebrow. “She’s good.”
Ugh, I was being so awkward. “And your cousin, Willa? How’s she?”
“She’s good too.” Patty glanced quickly around the packed bar. “Haven’t seen you out in a while. How are you?”
“Been busy. Oh, can you tell me about softball? You play softball right?” I asked with sudden inspiration. Suzie looked like she was about to burst with her discovery. I wouldn’t be able to lie if they out right asked me who Devlin was. My face was an open book. I could only stall.
Patty smiled but it was strained. Her gaze flicked to several people trying to get her attention. She said, “I’d love to sometime, but I got about ten tables needing something. Open mic night is crazy. We’ll catch up later. I’ll get all y’all’s round.”
When she was gone, Suzie said, “Enough’s enough. Spill it. What did you see when that mask came off?”
The others gasped and leaned closer, catching on. They threw out guesses of disfigurement and scarring. They were so wrong.
“You can’t freak out,” I warned.
They’re eyes widened but they nodded with mouths clamped shut tightly. But then, the quick happy notes of a familiar melody cut through the air and the bar went quiet. It was as though someone made an announcement.
“I love this song,” Roxy whispered.
We all nodded. Tiny Dancer by Elton John was one of those songs that brought everybody together no matter their age or background.
Chills traveled down my body as a familiar voice broke through the air. My eyes shot to the piano player on stage. Devlin was here. Excitement shuddered through me.
Devlin’s rich guttural voice broke through the air. He sat at the piano with his back to the bar. His mask was pulled off his face so he could sing into the microphone, he couldn’t be fully seen with his hat on. But I would know that profile anywhere.
I glanced to the other girls to see if they figured it all out. Their shocked expressions told me they did. That voice revealed all. He was a ragged mix of Eddie Vedder and Hozier. His rich voice burned like Tennessee honey whiskey showing his roots, but his range and technique came from years of practice combined with his own virtuoso talent. The man was captivating. It wasn’t just me who noticed. All the women and dang, most of the men, were just as entranced as I was. Pure, raw talent like that was hypnotic.
He had the skill of a classically trained musician with the cool casualness of a busker. The muscles of his neck, shoulders, and back were prominent under his thin shirt. They strained as he sang with every note. He poured everything into it.
My stomach flip-flopped. I hadn’t been prepared to see him. Been prepared to have this reaction.
A guitarist went up on stage and asked to join in. Devlin nodded to him with a smile in his voice. The guitar strummed along so perfectly it could have been staged. A tall woman with a shaved head joined on the steel guitar.
As the chorus built, people went to the dance floor. I couldn’t move. The things happening in my body were more than the music and more than the attraction. The things happening in my body were infinite. I had serious feelings for this man. Hearing him sing transported me back in time. Heat pooled deep inside me when he groaned out a particularly intense line.
A drummer got on stage and softly kept time. His grin spoke to the magic of the moment. It was magic. There was no other way to describe it. The lyrics were about holding a woman close, laying with her, softly, slowly—how she was always with him. My heart raced. I wouldn’t read into it.
As the famous chorus broke out, the whole bar sang along. Even busy Patty stopped to listen to the impromptu band on stage. Without talking, the five of us moved to the floor, rocking slowly at first, smiling and swaying.
Everything felt so perfectly coordinated that anything planned could never possibly top it.
This moment. Right here, with my closest friends, singing with unencumbered passion, I felt fully alive. It was more than I could ever ask for. I wanted to scream along at the top of my lungs. I wanted to cry. I was happy. I was loved. I wasn’t alone. I wished I could hold on to this feeling even when the doubt settled in.