6. Bryanna

I stand in front of the tall mirror in my room. In a black halter top, dark-washed high-waisted skinny jeans, and my peep-toe black suede booties, face painted with natural look--because I don’t want to give a wrong vibe, I feel excited. I can’t remember when was the last time I dressed up for a date. Or hanging out with a guy, in this case. Whatever.

I grab my cobalt suede fringe jacket before heading out. Closing the door, I find Mo and Tom curls up on the sofa watching a movie. “Someone’s ready to kill tonight,” Tom whistles.

“You look good,” Mo says on approval. “I like this waves. And the outfits.” She eyes me from top to bottom and nods.

“I like it too,” I replay, grinning. “I hope it’s not too much.”

“Nah, girl, you’re perfect.” She untangles herself from Tom and stands to smooch my temple. “I feel like a proud momma sending her daughter to her first prom.” She fake wipes her eyes.

Tom shakes his head at her antic. “Darling, let the girl be.” He pulls her down. “You’ll be fine, Bry,” he says to me in his thick British accent. “Just be you. If he’s the right one, then everything will be alright.”

“Thanks, Tom.” I bend to kiss his cheek. “I’m off. You guys do what you wanna do. But leave my bedroom out of it,” I state playfully while walking to the front door. “Bye, lovebirds.”

I hear Mo squealing before the door close behind me.

****

Weekend nights at Stewart’s means it’s hard to find an available seat in this hour. The dinner rush and party goers blends together to enjoy the performances. If you’re on the list, then it means Brad, and now Lincoln, deemed you good enough for their weekend crowds.

Not so surprise to know that Nate is on tonight. In a short time playing here, he already have the patrons eating from his palms, he’s that good. And he knows it.

He knows how to work the crowds to his will with his voice and guitar. A slanted smile here, a self-assured grin there, making the girls oohs and aahs as he continues strumming those strings.

No exception here. I stand by the bar watching Nate work his magic sipping my tequila. My only focus is on him.

“You’re ogling.”

The last person's voice on earth I want to hear wakes me up from my reverie, extinguishes the star-struck fog from my brain with the hate I have for him.

“Not your business,” I reply, trying so hard to sound indifferent. I don't want him to know that he still has such an effect on me.

I hate that he still has it.

The grump now stands beside me, his presence fills my space. He makes me suddenly feel more on edge.

“Bryanna.”

His stern tone have me looking up to him, just to find his eyes glued to the stage. “What is your problem?” I stare dagger at the side of his face.

For what it feels like the longest time, Lincoln just stands there. When his eyes finally meet mine, something flashes in those caramel orbs so fast I’m not sure it’s real. He then shakes his head, mumbling something that sounds so much like stupid and turn around.

It isn’t long before the crowds drown his body and I feel more ... confuse than ever.

****

“Hey, Beautiful.”

Nate kisses my cheek when he reach my seat. Halfway through his set, I snagged a table around the corner and have been there since, while trying to brush off the confusion Linc’s and my encounter brings.

Actually, and thankfully, that was not that hard at all with Nate everywhere.

“Hey.”

Sigh.

He’s a little sweaty, but the kind where it makes him look even more good. And after watching the way he sang and played his guitar on that stage? Talk about a world-altering experience.

Stop it, Bry, I tell to myself. I don’t know how, with all these thoughts in my head, I still can be a fumbling mess outside when I’m with him.

“Sorry you have to wait long.” He sits across from me. Eyeing my empty glass, he asks, “Want me to grab you another drink?”

“No,” I refuse quickly because it's already a struggle to finish this one, “I’m fine. You're welcome if you want one for yourself.”

“Nah.” He swipes his hair with his fingers. “I’m good.”

Yeah, you sure are.

“So, what do you wanna do? I usually grab something to bite here first before heading back. Or we could just go. You choose.”

“I can eat.”

He gives me that blinding smile.

So, we waves and Jenny appears to take our orders. We fills the time waiting with small chat, mostly me asking about the progress of his song writings. “It looks promising. Now that I have the chance to spread my music, I feel more confident with my work. Maybe one day I can show you one of them.”

His invitation make my heart skips. “Really?”

“Of course,” he says, giving me a playful wink.

“I’d like that.” How can I not?

Our food came, we ate and chatted. Actually he ate and talked about music while I was too busy ogling him to give a come back. I have no idea what’s come over me. It’s not like I haven’t been around guys. But, with Nate?

I shake, shake, shake my head internally.

Breaking through my own world, I realize the side-glances and evil eyes the girls in the room sends my way. It wakes me up even more to finally fully aware of the tingling on the side of my face and the cause of it. Trying to stealthily glance to my right, my eyes meet caramel ones from across the room.

The giant grump of a man stands on the far wall, his face void of emotions. He holds my stare for a second, and then disappears. Again.

What the hell did he want?

****

“So, this is me,” I tell Nate when the car stops in front of my building. “Thank you. I really enjoy tonight.”

I’m about to turn my body and open the door when Nate grabs my forearm. His touch burns my skin. I look up to find his burning eyes that looks really out of this world. My heart begin to thump, thump, thump faster the longer he stares at me.

I freeze, my only response is to stare back at those hypotizing blues in the dim light of the cab. His palm starts to climb up, up, up until it rest in the nape of my neck, thumb lightly strokes my cheek. Then slowly, ever so slowly, he leans down until his lips are only a hair breadth from my lips, waiting for my consent.

Nate want to kiss me! What am I going to do?

Making up my mind, I close my eyes and tip my head back so there’s no room for air until our lips locks.

Nate kisses my upper and lower lips softly, giving each of them the same attention. Each light stroke is his way of getting me use to the rhythm and the feel of his lips. I hum as my lips grab his lower one and I can feel his smile.

I can't help not to smile back.

Butterflies in my belly starts to flap their wings.

His tongue then licks my lower lip, sending thrills down to my toes. Liking my body’s response to his touch, his tongue finds mine and, oh my God, I cannot explain how good it feels. With each lick, jolts of electricity shot through me and I’m drowning from the high.

We're so busy devouring each other, nothing matter outside of that kiss, until the driver clears his throat.

The. Most. Awkward. Moment. In. My. Life.

I reluctantly pull away, Nate’s lips trails my cheek, my jaw, with chaste kisses before they finally leaves me completely.

I try to slow my breathing, to put myself together before opening my eyes. I meet with those blues gleaming with mirth, cocky smirk in place.

He knows what he just did to me.

Nate releases his grip on my hair. Yeah, I don’t know when it happened, I’ve been busy feeling his other body part. “Night, beautiful,” he says to my lips after he gave me another chaste kiss there.

I can barely breathe, let alone get myself together. “Night, Nate,” I croak.

****