The rest of the night passed in a blur, with the band adding the perfect background noise to keep the drinks flowing and conversation going. And before I knew it, we were closing while the band gathered up their instruments. I was in the middle of wiping down the tables when Stellan approached me with the rest of the band watching from a distance.
“Are you busy Monday night?” he surprised me by asking.
Even though we’d been texting more and had hung out a few times, usually our hangouts were done on impulse and hadn’t been preplanned.
I shook my head. “No, it’s my day off.”
“Perfect. The guys are coming to my house for rehearsal. We usually play for about an hour, then eat and shoot the shit. We’re going to barbecue, so I thought maybe you’d like to come? And officially meet the band?”
I blinked a few times. It was one thing to hang out late at night with the pretense of watching a movie so we could share mutual orgasms. But meeting the band and eating grilled food was a different level. Was I ready for that?
And then I realized how stupid the question was the minute I asked myself it. Of course I was. I wanted a relationship with him and everything that came with it. And if that meant band members and barbecue, then bring it on.
“I’d love to. What can I bring?”
His smile widened, showing off a crooked tooth and causing my own lips to curl. “Just yourself. We’ll take care of everything else.”
“Great. I’m looking forward to it.”
Stellan gave me a brief kiss goodbye and promised he’d talk to me the next day. My heart fluttered in my chest and my lips were still tingling as he walked away. Yup, deep trouble. And if I didn’t know any better, I could’ve sworn the train I was on had just picked up speed.
But rather than fear it, I just held on a bit tighter.
20
Stellan
“What time is lover boy supposed to arrive?” Baylor asked when we paused playing to take a quick break.
“I told him to be here around five. That’d give us time to finish up, and then we could start on the food,” I answered, ignoring the lover boy comment.
“Why didn’t you tell him to come earlier so he could hear us play?” Weston questioned.
“That’s easy. Stellan would’ve been too distracted if Foster was a few feet away. And we need to rehearse.”
“What he said,” I admitted, not even denying Maverick’s assumptions.
“I can’t wait for him to arrive. Stellan’s usually the calm and collected one, so to see him out of sorts over some guy will be comical.”
“And if you say any of that to Foster, I will personally beat you with my saxophone case.”
“That’s why I’m saying it now, so I can get it out of my system.” Weston shrugged.
“Start on the next song,” I demanded.
Weston only laughed harder before adjusting in his seat as he started plucking the strings for the next song. The rest of us followed suit, and I was relieved the conversation about my love life had been shelved for a little while. I knew it would be short-lived, and that once Foster arrived it’d only start back up again no matter what Weston said. I resigned myself for the ribbing that was sure to come and allowed myself to focus on the music.
Inviting him to the barbecue was an impulse decision, since it was something I’d never done before, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what Maverick had said to me. Also, Foster had come to mean a lot to me in such a short amount of time. So, I figured this was a way to kill two birds with one stone. Having him come proved to Maverick I thought of them as more than just some guys I played music with, while at the same time showed Foster I was all-in with him.
Yes, there was worry they wouldn’t get along, or that I was making a terrible mistake by mixing business with pleasure too soon. But I tried to push that worry deep into the dark crevices of my brain and not think about it anymore. I had to tell myself that they were all decent guys, and that everything would be just fine.
We finished going through the songs then discussed the order we intended to play them. After that was finished, we put everything away to get started on the barbecue. Baylor was the grill master, so we stayed back to watch him work. We decided to eat outside since the weather cooperated and provided a nice breeze, so we could enjoy our food without breaking out into a sweat. While Baylor babied the hot dogs, burgers, and kabobs Maverick brought, I got to work grabbing the chips, dips, and potato salad.
“Need any help?” Weston asked when he came back in from where he’d put his bass in his car.
“If you’d like to grab the plates and silverware that’d be great,” I tossed to him over my shoulder.
“Hey,” he said, and the awkwardness in his voice had me turning around to look at him. “I know I was giving you shit earlier, but all jokes aside, it’s nice to see you happy. Especially after everything you told me about—”
I rushed to cut him off, not wanting to get into that conversation—especially not when Foster would be arriving at any minute. That was a part of my past I didn’t want to ruin my present. When I told Weston what had happened before, it had been during a drunken moment of weakness on a particularly bad day. A day that was significant to the bad experience I didn’t want to talk about. This wasn’t that kind of day, and I wanted to hold on to my happy. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
While I aimed for sincerity, because I did appreciate it, I let my tone tell him I didn’t want to discuss it any further.
The message must’ve been received, because Weston gave me a nod before grabbing some plates and silverware, and then together we walked outside to set everything on the patio table. Maverick was standing beside Baylor, and I could see they were in the middle of their own conversation. Maverick tossed his head back and laughed at something Baylor said, and I noted the way his eyes crinkled in the corner. He was a few years older than us, but his gray hair had him looking even older, and the youthful transformation as he laughed was significant.
“Where’s my drink?” Baylor asked as I sat down on one of the patio chairs.
I snorted and gestured toward the back door. “Where they always are—in the fridge. You know how to help yourself.”
Baylor scoffed and pointed to the grill with the tongs he was holding. “I’m a little busy here.”
“I’m sure the meat will be okay for a few seconds.”
“And that’s why I’m grilling and not you.”
“Relax, Baylor. I can go get you something. What would you like?” Maverick asked him.
“Thank you. At least someone appreciates my predicament.”
“What predicament is that? Aside from you acting like the grill can’t function without you hovering by it.”
“Hey now. These kabobs are delicate, and if I don’t cook them, or any of this other food to perfection, then we can’t eat.”
“There’s always pizza,” I reminded him.
“Bite my ass, Stellan.”
“Uh, did I come at a bad time?”
Even though the voice was hesitant and laced with a bit of humor, the familiar sound penetrated my skin and went straight to my bone marrow. The chatter from the other guys stopped as I stood from the chair and turned to face the man who occupied my every waking thought.