smile as her hand clamps down on my thigh, squeezing hard. “I’m not a mean drunk.”
I waver as I sip my beer. “I can remember a certain tantrum over a lost poker game. One where you drunkenly threw a chip at me.”
She narrows her eyes. “Only because you were being smug.”
“Smug because I won and got to see you naked.”
“Well, maybe I’ll get drunk enough tonight that you can see me naked. Just as long as you quit saying I’m a mean drunk.” She hops off the couch and my arm falls from her shoulder. “And by the way, you can be the same way when you get drunk.”
“What way?”
“Horny and mean.”
I raise my beer up and point a finger at it. “That’s why I’m sticking to these.” I slide my feet off the couch and stand up. “So what song do you want me to play tonight?”
She taps her finger against her lip and there’s a playful look in her green eyes. She’s already buzzed, which means I’m going to have my hands full tonight. “How about the one tattooed on your ribs? The one you said you wrote for me but I’ve never heard you play before?”
I automatically touch the side of my rib where the tattoo of the lyrics is hidden underneath the fabric of my shirt. “I’ve never sung that one out loud for anyone. And I’m not ready to.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” I pick at the damp beer label. “Because I wrote it for you.”
“Okay…” She frowns, confused. “Then play it for me now.”
I glance at the room packed with rowdy and drunk people. “I don’t think I can right now.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s personal.” Because it means so much to me and the last thing I want to do is sing it to a room full people when I haven’t even sung it to her. Besides, I’m a little nervous to sing it for her because it’s intense.
She gives me the most lost look and I sigh, because I know I’m acting strange. “It’s just that when I wrote it, the lyrics kind of threw me off because it was the first time… that I realized I thought of you… like that.”
“But we both know how you feel now,” she says, looking at the metallic O-ring on my finger.
“I know that.” I stroke her cheekbone with my fingers. “And when I play it for the first time, I want it to be just you and me.”
“Like later tonight,” she asks, hopeful.
“Or maybe on our honeymoon,” I tell her and smile when her jaw drops. “What? Did you think I didn’t have anything planned?”
“But the wedding has been pushed back.” She cranes her neck and looks over her shoulder as more people enter the living room. “So if you had one planned, then how’d you move it?”
“Because I had it planned for a few weeks after yesterday, when we were supposed to get married.” I suddenly realize that if I go on tour my honeymoon plan has gone to shit. And I saved money to book it, skipping out on eating fast food and instead bringing my lunch—shit like that to get extra cash. A three-day cruise, which is a simple, normal kind of honeymoon and perfect for us since we didn’t really do simple or normal for most of our lives.
“So where are we going?” she wonders, intrigued, tucking in her elbow when a guy who I think is named Del walks by wearing a Santa hat and singing “We Wish You a Merry Christmas,” drunk off his ass and completely off key.
“No way. It’s a surprise,” I say, ushering her toward the front of the room when Ethan waves me over. Standing beside him is Jude Taylorsen, a pretty good bass player so I’m guessing they’re ready to roll. “I have to go play now.”
She clutches the cup as she stands in the crowd. It’s getting louder and smokier by the second. I know if it gets too packed in here furniture is going to get broken. I didn’t use to mind, but now I feel guilty and I make a mental note to kick everyone out before it gets to that point.
“And play that one song,” she shouts out as I back up toward where Ethan is chatting it up with Jude.