Spellbound - Cara Lynn Shultz [20]
“So, what do you do in the band?” I asked, stalling.
“Drums,” Gabe said, raising his voice over the music. “The band is just for fun. For now anyway, since we really do suck. Okay, round of shots anyone? I need some liquid courage.”
Everyone in the group agreed enthusiastically. Or should I say, everyone else. I stayed silent. Sure, I was no stranger to drinking. I’d had plenty of warm keg beer and Goldschläger at friends’ parties. But since the accident, I hadn’t done much other than nurse a light beer in a feeble attempt to show that I was still socially acceptable. And I had never been to a freakin’ bar before! Keansburg was way too small for that. Before I could even think, the bartender was lining up shots at the bar. I stood at the empty spot, between Brendan and the wall, and lifted the shot glass. Giving a wary glance to everyone, I made sure they weren’t looking and threw it over my shoulder.
I wiped my mouth and sucked on the lemon the way everyone else had, casting a look behind me to see if I’d hit anything—or anyone. The tequila had landed on the wall beside me—leaving a small swoosh on the pale plaster.
“All right, I gotta set up. See you guys in a bit,” Gabe said, flashing a big grin. “And seriously, we do suck. So don’t leave in the middle of it!”
“Do they really, or is he going to get up there and be the next Blink-182?” I asked, calling across to Cisco after Gabe was out of hearing range.
“Oh, they’re not good. He’s good,” he emphasized proudly. “But the band isn’t all that great.”
“They’re not that bad,” Samantha disagreed, lightly slapping her cousin on the shoulder. Cisco gave her a pointed look, and Samantha conceded. “Okay, they are pretty bad. Gabe is the only bright spot. Some of it might make your ears bleed. Nails-on-a-chalkboard time.”
She formed a claw with her hand and made a screeching sound and I winced, laughing. Brendan motioned for the bartender to come over and he threw down a black credit card.
“I got this round,” he said to the bartender. If Brendan noticed that the bartender’s jaw dropped a little when he got a good look at the card, he ignored it. “Round of tequila shots and whatever everyone else wants,” Brendan said. He then regarded me over his right shoulder.
“So, Emma, what would you like?” Um, how about you, shirtless? The minute Brendan talked to me, my brain felt like it exploded. What did he just ask me? Oh, yeah. Drinks.
“Just a beer, whatever, thanks.” I tried to sound casual as I absentmindedly dragged my necklace back and forth on its chain before tucking it back under my shirt.
“What’s that?” Brendan asked, pointing to the base of his own throat.
“Oh, nothing, just a charm necklace,” I said dismissively, smoothing out the neckline of the shirt. If I answered, then he’d ask about my brother…and my family…and he’d never want to talk to me again. He already knew I was lying about where I was from.
“You know,” he said, his voice low as he leaned in more closely. I could smell Brendan’s shampoo—it was a clean, fresh scent, like grass in the rain. “You don’t have to drink. I don’t care—I mean, no one cares if you don’t.”
Did Brendan see you throw the tequila over your shoulder? He doesn’t sound judgmental.
The bartender arrived with the shots and Brendan took mine, placing it in front of him.
“No sense in wasting good liquor. Or, as is the case here, very cheap tequila.” Brendan kept his eyes on me as he drained my shot, and I began to wonder if a beer wouldn’t be a good idea, just to calm my nerves.
I met his gaze. “I’m good with a beer, thanks.”
He shrugged and ordered my drink, which the bartender promptly brought over. Then Brendan casually leaned back against the bar, stretching his long legs in front of him.
I tried to think of some kind of conversation starter. “So, how do you know Cisco?” I asked, sitting on the bar stool next to Brendan.
“We go to the same school,” Brendan replied, tilting his head toward me. “Maybe you’ve heard of it? Vincent Academy?” His voice was playful and teasing.
“You’re a Vincent Academy!” I