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Thoughtful (Thoughtless #1.5) Page 2
Author: S.C. Stephens

While Matt and Griffin were both on the skinny side, Evan was bulkier. My body type was middle of the road, not too bulky, not too lean, and in terms of body art, I was a virgin. I just couldn’t think of one thing I loved well enough to permanently scratch it into my skin. Nothing in life was permanent, so why pretend it was by immortalizing it? Seemed pointless to me.

I grinned at my two eager bandmates. “Let’s do it then. Make it happen, Matt.”

Smiling, Matt went back to his phone. Griffin walked up and tossed an arm around me. “Awesome! What are we doing?” Some stray pieces of cereal fell from his mouth after he asked.

“Nothing yet,” I answered, smacking his chest.

He made an oomph sound, and even more of the brightly colored circles fell from his cheeks. I swear Griffin had the largest mouth of anyone I knew.

After a couple of hours of rehearsal, we called it a night. Piling into our cars, we headed over to Pete’s Bar. The bar was our home base, where we played at least once a week, if not more, but we always seemed to end up there, even on nights we didn’t play there. It was like the day didn’t feel complete until we’d stepped through the double doors, however briefly. Everyone knew us there, and we knew just about everyone. Our stuff was there, our friends were there, our life was there.

I pulled the Chevelle into my unofficial parking spot. As usual, it was empty, waiting for me. When I shut the car off, the sounds of Fleetwood Mac died midchorus. I briefly considered turning the car back on to finish listening to the song, but I’d heard it a million times, and I really wanted to go sit down and have a nice cold, refreshing beer. That sounded fantastic right now.

Evan was getting out of his vehicle at almost the same time I was getting out of mine. He clapped me on the shoulder when I met him at the back of my car. I looked around for Matt and Griffin, but I didn’t see Griffin’s Vanagon anywhere. “Uh, where are Tweedledee and Tweedledum?” I asked Evan.

He raised a corner of his lip. “Jackass said he needed to run home because he forgot Traci’s shorts, and she needs them for work.”

Picturing those two, I shook my head. Traci was a waitress at Pete’s. She and Griffin had been messing around lately, which wasn’t really a problem, except for the fact that Traci was starting to get attached, and she wasn’t the type to be okay with keeping things casual forever. And that made her the exact opposite of Griffin.

The warm light of the bar’s neon signs washed over me as I pushed open the doors to my haven. I inhaled a deep breath as I walked in, and unknown anxieties leached from my muscles. Everything about this place relaxed me. The noise, the smells, the music, and the people. If ever I could say I was truly content, it was here.

From my left, a husky voice let out a coarse “Hey there, Kellan.”

Looking over, I saw the bartender, Rita, studying me. She had an expression on her face akin to a man who was dying of thirst, staring at a pitcher of water. I was used to that look on her though. I’d slept with her once, and by the way she looked at me, once wasn’t enough. “Hey, Rita.” I nodded my head up in greeting and her eyes fluttered closed with a soft groan.

“Jesus,” she murmured as she ran a sharp, painted nail along her plunging neckline. “So fucking hot…”

After waving a greeting to the regulars, Evan and I made our way over to our table. Well, I suppose technically it wasn’t ours, but, like my parking space outside, it had become known as the band’s by our frequent visitations.

Leaning back in my chair, I propped my feet up on the end of the table. Just as I was debating whether I wanted chicken strips or a burger, my feet were unceremoniously dumped to the floor. I lurched forward a bit in my seat as my body weight shifted. A cute blonde wearing a tight red Pete’s Bar shirt was standing at the end of the table with her hand on her hip. Her full lips were pursed in displeasure. “Don’t put your feet on the table, Kellan. People eat there.”

An amused smile curled my lips. “Sorry, Jenny. Just getting comfortable.”

Jenny’s mouth expanded into a charming smile. “A beer is what will make you comfortable. Two or four?” Her pale eyes shifted between Evan, me, and the empty chairs at our table.

Evan interpreted her question about our missing bandmates and raised four fingers. “They’re on their way.”

Jenny’s smile turned playful as she reached out and scratched Evan’s head. He closed his eyes and started thumping his leg on the floor like a dog getting its belly rubbed. Jenny giggled, and her eyes lit up in a way that was exceedingly attractive. I liked Jenny. She had a good heart, and she never openly judged me for the promiscuous nature of my life.

I’d discovered sex at a really young age, completely by happenstance, and like music, it had touched a nerve with me. I still craved that feeling, that closeness, and I sought it out as often as I could. I wasn’t picky about who I slept with—older, younger, attractive, homely, mothers, girlfriends, wives. Who they were didn’t matter to me, I only cared that they were interested. That probably wasn’t the best thing to admit, but it was the truth. Sex was a release for me. It made me feel like a part of something bigger than myself, made me feel connected to the world around me. And I needed to feel that way. My life was full of empty spaces.

I’d tried pretty hard to date Jenny when she’d first started working here, but she’d point-blank turned me down. She said she didn’t want to be anybody’s fling. She hadn’t turned away from our friendship though, and that meant a lot to me. I wouldn’t say no if she changed her mind and wanted to go a round or two, but I wasn’t going to push it again. I liked where we were, even if it wasn’t sexual.

As Jenny started walking away, I called out, “I’ll take a burger too! With bacon!” She lifted her thumb in the air, so I knew she’d heard me.

As I shifted my eyes from Jenny’s backside, Evan poked me in the ribs. “Hey, Kell,” he asked, “what do you think about Brooke? I was thinking about asking her to go out with me. I don’t know, but I think she could be the one, man. I mean, have you seen the dimples on her?”

Evan grinned and I couldn’t help but smile at him. “Yeah, I think she’s great. Go for it.” Evan found a new “one” every other month, it seemed. Might as well give it a go with Brooke. It could be the best month and a half of his life. My input given, I returned my feet to the table and waited for my food, my drink, and the rest of my bandmates to arrive.

“Oh my God. You’re Kellan Kyle…”

I turned at hearing my name. Thanks to my occupation, I got recognized from time to time, especially here at the bar. At the table across from me, a petite young woman with hair so blond it was almost silver was staring my way. Framed in thick black mascara, the girl’s irises were a turquoise shade of blue, like calm tropical water. There was no denying she was cute, and she seemed to know who I was, so I gave her a genuinely warm smile as I responded to her statement.

“At your service,” I said, tipping a hat I wasn’t wearing. She giggled, and the sound was oddly innocent, considering how she was eyeing me. The truth was plain though; this girl was no angel. Neither was I, so already we were a good match.

She asked if she could sit at my table and I shrugged. Sure, why not. After she pulled up a chair, she gushed, “I saw you play a couple of weeks ago in Pioneer Square.” Her hand came up and her fingers touched my chest, then trailed down my stomach. “You…were amazing.”

My lips parted as I stared her down, and her eyes tracked the movement. Just that brief touch sparked something in me…desire, longing. I wasn’t sure why, but there was something about human touch that spoke to my soul. A clap on the back from a friend could completely alter my mood, while a girl running her hand up my thigh could instantly put me in the mood. It was a potent and unexplainable connection that I shared with people when they crossed into my personal space, whether they realized the significance of it or not. And right now, this strange woman caressing me was opening me up to something wanton and lustful.

I was putty in her hands right now. I’d do anything…all she needed to do was ask. So ask, Ms. Ocean Eyes, and I’ll be anything you want me to be.

And at the end of the night, she finally did ask, in a roundabout way. “How about we go to your place for a drink? Where do you live?”

Eagerness rushed through me at what I knew was about to happen, but I kept my expression casual and carefree. “Not far.”

It took less than fifteen minutes to get to my house; my “date” followed me in her car. With her almost on my heels, I walked up to the front door and opened it. Stepping into the entryway, I flung my keys onto the half-moon table underneath a row of coat hooks. Over my shoulder, I asked her, “So, what kind of drink would you like?”

The front door slammed, and then fierce fingers grabbed my arm and spun me around. Hands pulled me down, and before I knew it, the blonde’s mouth was all over mine. I guess she’d changed her mind about the drink. Reaching down, I grabbed her ass and lifted her up. Like a python, she wrapped her legs around my waist and squeezed. It made it slightly uncomfortable to carry her, but I managed to make my way up the stairs.

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S.C. Stephens's Novels
» Untamed (Thoughtless #4)
» Thoughtful (Thoughtless #1.5)
» Effortless (Thoughtless #2)
» Thoughtless (Thoughtless #1)
» Collision Course
» Reckless (Thoughtless #3)
» 'Til Death (Conversion #3)
» Bloodlines (Conversion #2)
» Conversion (Conversion #1)