nod. "I'm sure. I need honesty right now." How many times did I lie covering for Dad? Must be a few thousand. More even.
He bites his lip like he's thinking it over. Finally, he nods. "Okay."
We shake on it.
Already, I'm nervous over the potential to reveal myself. Okay. Need to grab something. I like him talking about music, like the passion in his voice.
I look up at Pete. "Tom, your brother, he plays drums, right?"
He nods.
"What's that like?"
"We create the rhythm together. There's a connection when we play—it's like nothing else."
"What about sex?"
"Nothing is better than great sex."
Mmm. I'm flushed and sweaty just thinking about being with him. But we need to talk more. I need to know more about him. "Can you believe that woman at the club? She called your ex a... a c-word right to your face."
"Not the first time I've heard that."
"You never think that?"
"A cunt is a beautiful thing, not an insult."
My cheeks flush. He looks at me, his lips spreading into a smile. He enjoys teasing me.
I like it too.
"So you really don't hate her for cheating?" I ask.
He takes a long moment to compose himself. When he speaks, his voice is low. Vulnerable. "You must know what's it like. Still hurts that she betrayed my trust. We were on and off that last year. Would have been easy for her to keep things off, but she chose to lie to me instead."
I nod. "Why do people do that?" It would have been easy for Nathan to send me an it's over text before he slept with Madison. It would have been easy for Madison to say no, let's wait until it's official .
But neither one of them cared how I'd feel.
Nathan hurt me, fine. He didn't owe me anything.
But Madison... we've always been allies. I took care of her most of the time, but she had my back when I needed her. I thought I could count on her. I thought I could tell her anything.
"Hey." His voice is steady. "Where are you going off to?"
I look back at Pete. "My ex-boyfriend cheated with my sister. They're still dating. I don't think about him, but she hasn't apologized. And I haven't told her how much she hurt me. We haven't spoken since I found out." My eyes go to my bare thighs. "I don't want to upstage you."
"It's not a competition." His fingers brush my cheek. "You're still hurting?"
"Yeah. She's the only person I've ever trusted."
"You want me to call her and tell her she's a bitch?"
I let out a laugh. "I think she'd take her own life if the Pete Steele called her a bitch." I run my fingertips over the back of his hand. "Do you still think about your ex?"
His voice drops to a whisper. "Not about her but about what happened."
My heart pangs. I want to touch him, to hold him, to wipe the memory of his ex away with my lips.
***
T he club is small and dim. All the light is on the stage, on a four piece jazz band. At least, I think it's a jazz band. I don't know much about music beyond I like it or I don't like it .
The host greets us with an oh my favorite regular smile. "Nice to see you, Mr. Steele. Take any empty table."
There are ten cozy, round tables in the center of the main room and about that many booths lining the edges.
Pete takes a booth in the far corner, out of the way of any prying eyes, and slides in next to me.
A waiter stops by our table. "For you, Miss?"
"Just a coke."
He nods to the waiter. "Same for me." Once the waiter is out of earshot, Pete scoots close enough to whisper. "You don't drink?"
"Not usually."
"Any reason?"
My self-preservation impulses fire away. "No."
"Jess—"
This honesty thing was my idea. I'm going to tell the truth, even if it kills me. "Yes, there is. Someone in my family has a drinking problem, but I don't want to talk about it right now."
He nods. Scoots closer. "You ever listen to jazz?"
"Never."
"Most people, their first reaction is that it doesn't make any sense."
I close my eyes and try to find some logic in the music. There's no pattern. It skips all over the place.
"It's not like a pop song. No
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