“I’m still me, Ash. Just because I’m using my middle name and choosing not to tell people about my ex and my famous parents doesn’t mean I’m fake.”
“I wasn’t suggesting you were.” She wraps her arms around me. “Can we just rewind the last five minutes and forget I said anything? You look sexy as fuck, and you’ve finally agreed to come to Whelans again, and I don’t want anything to ruin tonight. We’re going to paint the town red and wash those dicks right out of our hair.”
Eyes bore into my back, and I feel his potent stare without the need to turn around. I knew Dillon was in the bar somewhere, but we’ve been here for over an hour, and he hasn’t shown his face. Jamie is giving Ash the cold shoulder, like usual, and Aoife is hanging all over him. The bitch Dillon was with at our party has been shooting me daggers for the past hour, and I’m close to saying fuck it and leaving.
I only agreed to come out because I know Ash feels torn leaving me at home every Friday night, and I don’t want her to have to choose between me and the band.
Personally, I don’t know how she can subject herself to this torture every week. I know she comes to support her brothers, but watching Jamie with different girls must be killing her. “How do you stand it?” I ask, taking a sip of my pink gin as I subtly gesture in Jamie and Aoife’s direction.
“Alcohol helps. Fucking other guys does too. I haven’t done that in a while, so I think it’s time I found someone to bang tonight. His behavior reminds me why I need to stay away from him. I slipped up at our party but never again. Watching him with other girls helps strengthen my resolve.” She drinks some of her beer. “I’ve thought a lot about what you said. I do deserve someone who would fight for me. If Jamie truly cared, he’d talk to Dillon and make it right. I’m done being second best.”
“Amen to that, sister.” I raise my glass to her beer bottle, and we say “Sláinte.”
I rub the back of my neck, feeling tingles all over from Dillon’s intrusive gaze, and I wish he’d focus on one of his groupies instead.
“You do know he’s staring at you, right?” Ash says.
“Unfortunately, yes.” Giving in, I angle my head to the side, and our gazes connect. My heart skips a beat, like always.
Tonight, Dillon is wearing a tight white T-shirt under a black leather jacket and blue jeans that hug his muscular thighs. The usual chains and bands adorn his neck and wrists. He fiddles with his eyebrow piercing as his eyes drift up and down my body, drinking in my one-shouldered silk pink top, formfitting black leather pants, and kick-ass knee-high boots. I let Ash do my makeup and style my hair, and I know I look good. I haven’t missed the ardent stares of men in the vicinity though I’ve been avoiding making eye contact with anyone. I’m still not ready to cross that bridge.
“Holy fuck, Grace. You look gorgeous,” Ronan says, snaking his arms around me from behind, forcing me to break my face-off with his older brother.
“Thanks, Ro.” I beam at him while gently removing his arms. He’s getting braver, and it’s making me uncomfortable. “Where were you?”
“Dillon and I were being interviewed for Hot Press magazine. It’s a pretty big deal.”
Pride suffuses his tone, and I twist around in my chair. “That’s awesome.”
“I love how you say that,” he says, winding his fingers through my hair.
“How did it go?” I ask, squirming a little under his adoring gaze.
“Really well. Since we released our self-produced EP three months ago, buzz has been steadily building. One of the main radio stations played the title track last week, and we got a call from Hot Press the next day. They’re going to do a feature on Toxic Gods.”
“I’m rooting for you guys,” I truthfully admit. “Let me buy you a beer to celebrate.” I stand.
Ronan shakes his head. “Ladies never buy the drinks.”
I glare at him. “Are we living in the dark ages now?”
Holding up his palms, he backtracks furiously. “I meant no offense! I was just trying to be a gentleman.”
My angry spurt dies out. “You already are. Me buying you a drink doesn’t change that.” His smile expands, and I silently curse. I’ll have to say something to him before he hits on me. I’m genuinely flattered, and I wish I had feelings for him because he’s a decent guy and I know he could help me move on, but I can’t force myself to feel things I don’t. This has the potential to get messy, and I need to handle it soon.