Eyes Turned Skyward
Page 47“Friends?” I needed that line clearly delineated.
“Fucking knee pads,” he muttered, closing his eyes briefly.
“What?”
“Yes, I even brought Masters and Morgan as chaperones.”
“I’m not really dressed for anything…” I looked down at my simple, fitted V-neck tee, infinity scarf, and ballet flats.
“You look incredible. Now get in the car.”
I went.
Nearly two hours later, the bouncer smiled at me and said, “Happy birthday,” as he tagged my wrist with a green band.
I grinned and showed off my prize to Morgan, who rolled her eyes. “Don’t go getting any ideas, Paisley Lynn.”
“I still can’t believe you got us tickets.” The opening band was on stage as Jagger wound us through the small arena in Panama City. Dropkick Murphys. Incredible.
“When I saw they were coming, I couldn’t pass it up.” We grabbed drinks at the concession stand, then made our way down the steps of the arena. “You sure just water?”
“Yeah, just water.” Alcohol was a giant no-no, which just about frosted my cookies tonight. What was the use of turning twenty-one if I couldn’t have a single drink on my birthday?
“I like to break stereotypes,” I answered as we came closer to the stage. “Where are our seats? Did we pass them?” He led me forward until the front row was all that was left. “No way. No way!” I jumped a little and threw my arms around his neck. “Thank you!”
His arms wound around my back. “Only the best for the birthday girl.” His lips grazed my ear before I withdrew.
We found our seats as the band took the stage, but I was out of it the minute they started to play. I lost myself with nothing between me and the music, and Jagger next to me. I sang along with every song until my voice was hoarse, the energy in each verse winding me higher and higher until I felt invincible.
It was perfect, and then it was over.
Jagger took my hand and led me through the crowd on the way out. Once we cleared the bottleneck at the doorway, he dropped my hand, and I frowned at my own disappointment.
“Well?” He held Lucy’s door open for me.
“That was amazing!” My face hurt from smiling so much. “The perfect birthday, thank you!”
“Ready to head home?”
Energy hummed through me. “Is there anywhere we could go down here to dance?”
“Lee?” Morgan questioned. “Dance? Really?”
“Club La Vela is here,” Jagger offered. “It’s pretty legendary.”
“It’s my birthday,” I all but begged Morgan. “Have you ever heard me want to go out?”
She shook her head and pulled me aside. “No, but do you think it’s the best idea?”
“Yes.”
Morgan sighed. “Just keep it within reason.”
“Oh, come on. This is me we’re talking about.”
Chapter Seventeen
Jagger
You’ve always seen my loss of control, my recklessness as my biggest weakness. Maybe, just maybe, it’s my greatest asset.
The Thanksgiving-weekend crowd packed the club, and the music was loud, pumping through me in rhythm with my heartbeat. Paisley leaned across the bar, her ass in the air, and I glared one of the eager assholes away. Her perfect lips closed around the straw of her third drink, and that wink she just gave me said she was definitely feeling it.
Morgan slid behind her, having been dancing the whole time. “Enough!” she yelled, trying to be heard above the thumping bass.
“I’m twenty-one, Morgan. Give me a night!” She threw her arm over Morgan’s shoulder and hopped off the bar stool, wavering a second before she steadied.
“Morgan, give her a break. Most twenty-one-year-olds are blasted and puking by now. We’re lucky she’s still conscious.” Masters rolled his eyes over his sweet tea.
“Well, she didn’t tell you that drinking interferes with her medication, did she?” Morgan asked.
“Her asthma meds? I had no clue.” Shit. I was the one who’d offered her the first drink.
“Asthma? Oof!” Morgan picked up her left foot, rubbing the insole.
“You okay?” Paisley asked.
She grimaced through a smile. “Yeah, just…stubbed my toe. Damn peep-toes.” She glared at Paisley.
“I think I’ll be okay for one night, Morgan. Checking off boxes and all.” They had some kind of silent girl exchange where they spoke through hand gestures and eyebrows. I needed an interpreter or another beer.
“I want to dance!” Paisley declared, wiggling her ass. She’d ditched the long-sleeved tee in the car, opting for the low-cut tank top I’d bought her at the concert, and now I wished she’d kept the other one on. The curves of her breasts were too visible, too close, and way too much. “Jagger?” She turned those green eyes on me and didn’t look away while she pulled her hair into some kind of knot on her head. Sexy little tendrils escaped, framing her face.
“Dance?” I croaked.
That grin just about destroyed me. “Friends dance.”
She slid past me, catching my hand and pulling me onto the already crowded floor, and I followed after her. I kept a respectable distance, which in a club this packed meant about an inch or two. The couples around us writhed to the music, more than a few in various stages of base running.