Lindsey Kelk 5-Book ‘I Heart...’ Collection. Lindsey KelkЧитать онлайн книгу.
and look at, stuff.’ Stuff. Nice one, Angela. I may as well have told him I’d carried a watermelon.
‘Because you’re welcome any time,’ he teased. ‘I just hope your friend would approve.’
Mean, mean man.
And I really liked it.
‘I don’t think I have to get permission to go into another part of town,’ I said, refusing to smile at him even though I wanted to. There were a lot of things I wanted to do at that moment in time, but I was hardly about to do them in this place.
‘Well, she had some pretty strict rules about that date you were going on.’ He slid out of the booth and held out his hand to help me up. We were leaving the hot chocolate already? ‘How did that go by the way? Not that great obviously, because you’re here.’
‘It was fine, thanks for asking,’ I said. Discussing my Tyler date with Alex would be too weird. And things were already weird enough.
‘You seeing him again?’ he asked, leaving a twenty-dollar bill on the table with the bill. How much was hot chocolate? Maybe I wouldn’t come back here with Jenny tomorrow.
‘I think this is definitely against The Rules.’
I really didn’t know what to say. Was it normal to ask about other dates while you were on a date? But what if it wasn’t a date. Maybe he had asked me out as a friend.
Shit!
Was this a friend date?
‘Hmm,’ he was still smiling, his eyes twinkling as we walked out onto the sweaty sidewalk. I mean pavement. God, it was starting to happen already, ‘I didn’t think it would get past one date.’
‘And why not?’ I asked. I wasn’t refusing to look at him this time, I just couldn’t. I was so embarrassed.
‘You knew you were going out with me tonight,’ he said, stopping and standing close to me. ‘And I couldn’t stop thinking about it so I figured you would be feeling the same.’ He leaned in and kissed me softly on the lips. It was chocolaty and gentle and electric. I wasn’t going to need to bolt to The Union for refuge after all, but at this rate, I was going to need to get a room. I hoped Jenny or Van would give me a good rate. Did they run any rooms by the hour?
‘The gig isn’t that far, you want to walk?’ he asked, pulling away and taking my hand in his. At least I knew it was definitely a date.
‘Walking’s good,’ I managed, replaying the kiss in my head. I couldn’t help but compare it to Tyler’s. His kisses had been firm and insistent, yet tender at the same time. Alex’s kiss was so gentle and soft, but absolutely full of confidence. And it made me want so many more.
We wandered down Broadway, talking about our families, our friends, what we wanted to achieve. I managed to turn my blog at The Look into a six-book deal and a film, while Alex talked about creating scores for movies, acting and a passion for architecture, but he hardly mentioned the band.
‘That’s a pretty full agenda,’ I said, loving the feeling of holding hands. ‘How are you going to manage all that and put a new album out?’
‘Good question,’ he replied. ‘Who knows if there will be another album? I’m sort of putting the whole thing on hold at the moment. We’re just a little wiped out and I don’t know if I can carry the whole thing right now. We’ve been together for like, eight years when you add in all the time before we were signed. Gets to a point where you just want to do something else.’
‘I know what you mean,’ I said, trying not to sound like a disappointed fan. ‘Must be hard making a group decision about something that big.’
‘It is,’ he agreed, ‘but once one person’s heart is out of it, it’s really all over. We’re still playing live around town, but I just don’t feel we want it like we did before. These things come to an end, like anything else. There’s nothing worse than staying when there’s nothing to stay for.’
I walked on, nodding and thinking. It made sense. And not just about his band.
‘Did I say something wrong?’ he asked after our third block of silence.
‘Not at all.’ Rules or no rules, I really didn’t want to broach the Mark subject with him. ‘I was just thinking about how right you are. And how sometimes you just have to bite the bullet and make a change.’
‘Exactly,’ he gave my hand a squeeze and stopped in front of a queue of people decked out in skinny jeans, faded T-shirts and bored expressions. Looked like the queue for a gig to me. ‘Shall we?’
‘Hey, man,’ the gangly bouncer on the door nodded to Alex and waved us through and down some stairs into a cramped bar. I glanced around, trying to look like I belonged, while Alex talked to the girl behind the ticket counter. Across the room, a group of girls were craning their necks to get a better look and not exactly whispering about their intentions towards him. I suddenly felt defensive, how dare they say that about my date right in front of me? But somewhere, not too well hidden, I felt the tiniest bit smug. Here was this super hot man who could have had any girl in that line and he was here with me.
‘Hey,’ Alex called, holding the door to the main floor open. ‘You want a drink?’
I took one last look at the girls and then turned my back. ‘I’ll get them,’ I nodded. ‘What are you having?’
‘Beer?’
I took the official bar position, forearms resting on the counter, ten dollar bill in hand and slightly impatient look on my face as I tried to make eye contact with one of the bartenders. Behind the bar was a dirty old mirror, hidden behind the rows and rows of bottles. For a moment I didn’t recognize the girl standing beside Alex, all messy hair, sexy heavy eye make-up that would have looked a little bit slutty if she wasn’t working the whole look, and then I realized that slutty-looking girl was me. I didn’t know if it was the close proximity of a genuine bonafide rocker or Jenny’s fine prep work but I looked actually OK. Or maybe it was just because I was having fun. I was officially dating and having fun. Wowsers.
A gig is a gig is a gig, I realized as we passed through to the back of the bar, up onto the (thankfully) dim, smoky main floor, New York or London. Sticky floor, crammed bar with overpriced warm beer in plastic cups, small cliques of hipsters in too tight jeans, CBGBs T-shirts, and their tiny girlfriends in equally skinny jeans. As intimidated as I felt by all the unspoken attention Alex was receiving, I felt kind of at home. This could just as easily be any small venue in London as the Bowery Ballroom in New York.
‘You go to a lot of gigs at home?’ Alex asked, yelling into my ear as the first support act began thrashing at their guitars and brutally assaulting their drum kit.
I nodded and leaned in to his ear, my nose poking through his lovely floppy hair. ‘Yeah, I used to go a lot more, but my friends aren’t really that into the same kind of music as me.’
I didn’t tell him that in reality, none of my friends was into the same kind of music as me, and that Mark had been my only gig buddy for the last ten years. When we first moved to London, we’d gone out at least once every week, but in the last two years, he’d started complaining that the gigs went on too late, that he couldn’t sit down, that the beer was expensive and flat, and more than once in the last few months I’d sat at the back, alone after a short text to say he was working late. But that didn’t feel like something Alex needed to know right away. I wanted this to be fun.
‘Yeah,’ he said, sipping his beer without a word of complaint. ‘Sometimes I think it’s just so much easier to go places on your own. The movies I’ve missed because I didn’t have a date.’
I couldn’t imagine him not having a date for a second. Almost every girl in the place had checked him out on their way in and I was starting to prickle with their not so silent appraisals of me, as his date.
‘So apart from listening to Justin, what did you do today?’ he grinned, steering