“June isn’t that far away,” I say. “And I can understand your parents’ logic.”
“What can I get ya?” the waitress asks, whipping a pen and pad out of the pocket of the black apron she’s wearing.
“How about shots?” Ash asks, glancing between me and her friends. We all nod, and she orders sambucas just as the music starts.
Ronan pounds out a rhythm on the drums, quickly joined by Conor and Jamie, and then Dillon steps forward, cradling the mic and closing his eyes before he bursts into song. I’m instantly mesmerized by the gritty carnal edge to his soulful voice and the way his body moves fluidly to the beat of the music. His black shirt molds to his gorgeous physique, and the muscles in his lower arms and biceps flex and roll as he caresses the mic, pouring his heart and soul into the song. His ripped black jeans hug muscular thighs, and it’s clear Dillon works out. He’s bulkier than the others without looking too ripped.
His eyes snap open, scanning the crowd briefly before flitting directly to me. From the quick way he found me, it’s clear I wasn’t the only one sneaking peeks during the sound check. Lyrics flow from his gorgeous mouth, thick with emotion as he pours everything into the song. His eyes don’t stray from mine as he stares pointedly at me. Butterflies scatter in my chest as we maintain eye contact, and a thrill sweeps through me.
Our shots arrive, and I immediately grab one, not waiting for the others before I knock it back. I desperately need a diversion from Dillon’s electric stare. He has this magnetic charisma, this energy, that just sucks you in. I hate that I’m drawn to it, powerless to avoid his gaze, and I wonder what it says about me.
Reeve is still front and center of my mind.
My heart is ripped wide apart, and I have plenty of festering wounds.
Grief and turmoil are my constant companions.
So, it will be a long time before I can entertain the notion of another man. And that’s why this weird connection I feel with Dillon is freaking me out a bit.
We order more shots, and I’m buzzing. High on alcohol and the vibe in the room. The crowd is going crazy. Singing along with Dillon as they play a mix of covers and original music. After a while, we push out into the crowd to dance. Emptying my mind, I close my eyes and let myself get swept up in the music. Dillon’s gritty raspy voice wraps around me like a sensual caress, and I could listen to him sing for eternity.
We return to our seats after a few songs, ordering more shots, as we settle in to watch the end of the show. I try not to stare at Dillon, especially when I notice Aoife shooting daggers in my direction, but it’s hard to avoid his hypnotic pull. I’m not the only one fixated on him. Most every woman in the place is ogling him.
The other guys are hot too, and I’m sure they have their fair share of admiring fans, but it’s crystal clear that Dillon O’Donoghue is the main attraction. Talent oozes from his pores, and it seems so effortless. He is the bona fide definition of stage presence. He was born to be up there. Born to entertain. He has the crowd eating out of his hand, and a line of scantily clad women are pushing for pole position at the front of the crowd, desperately trying to claim his attention.
While I like music as much as the next person, I’m no expert. I know little about musical genres; I just know I like what I like. When Ash said the band was an indie rock band, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Maybe something hardcore like ACDC but not this. Toxic Gods is giving me major U2 vibes. They have the same edgy, rock feel but with a unique sound. Dillon’s vocals are as enigmatic and distinctive as Bono’s, and he has the same charisma and stage presence.
Ronan might have come across as a little arrogant earlier, but he wasn’t wrong. Toxic Gods is fantastic, and if they catch a lucky break, I imagine things will really take off for them.
30
I wake the following morning with the hangover from hell, grateful I declined Ash’s invite to continue the party back at the band’s apartment. It was almost two a.m. when we left Whelans, and I was smashed. Spending time in close confines with a prickly Dillon didn’t appeal to me, and I’m glad I still had my wits about me. He didn’t speak to me the rest of the night, but he stole glances at me anytime he wasn’t preoccupied with shoving his tongue down Aoife’s throat.
The buzzing of the door has me crawling out of bed, groaning. Covering my body with my robe, I pad to my front door, stifling a yawn as I check the peephole.
A jolly man with a big belly smiles at me when I open the door. “Good morning, Ms. Mills. We have a delivery for you.” He thrusts a clipboard at me, as I glance at the large box on the ground. “Just sign there.” He points to a space at the end of the page. I scribble my signature while he carries the box inside, depositing it on the kitchen counter.