Starting from Scratch Read online Lane Hayes (Starting From #2)

Categories Genre: Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Starting from Series by Lane Hayes
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Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
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“Hey, did you see the guy I was just talking to? He was wearing a baseball cap…tall, skinny…?” When Vin inclined his head, I prodded. “Do you know him?”

“Nah, but I’ve seen him at a few Zero shows.”

“Really?” I knit my brow curiously.

“I think so. Hey, it’s dark. Don’t quote me. Oh shoot, that’s my phone.” He held up his cell as if I needed proof then squeezed my shoulder. “I’ll catch you after the gig.”

I kept my eye roll in check like a pro and clung to the shadows as Justin sang the last few lines of “This is Love.” An eerie quiet settled over the crowd as his voice quivered with emotion.

“…I can’t imagine a night without you now

And for the first time I wondered, is this love?”

I noted a few people wiping their eyes in the audience and smiled when someone called out “I love you, Justin,” but my gaze wandered to Ky. His mouth twisted visibly under the brim of his hat like he was torn between arousal and amusement. He looked at me that way a lot. I’d always thought he was laughing at me, but maybe there was something else at play. I mean…he kissed me and told me to kiss him to make it even. Straight guys didn’t do things like that. Neither did bi or gay men who’d made a curious mistake they didn’t want to repeat. He wasn’t acting normal, I mused as he glanced up and smiled. At me. Just me.

And just like that, everyone else disappeared.

It might have been ten seconds or less, but it felt like a lifetime. Music and lyrics ebbed and flowed with a series of beginnings and soft endings where nothing was final and anything was possible.

But the song ended, the crowd went wild, and the moment was gone.

Next thing I knew, the lights were on and I had a drink in my hand. And then another…and another. I slipped into my professional “manager of an up-and-coming rock band” role, schmoozing with the record execs in attendance. I reintroduced the guys to Vin and the bigwigs at Sky before getting stuck in a boring conversation with a woman who claimed to be tight friends with some famous producer. I nodded and smiled and kept my eyes glued on Ky. And Lauren.

I didn’t even mind when Vin butted in on my conversation to give me a rundown of a few new acts he was interested in signing. He leaned in too close and was a little too touchy-feely, but his overly animated conversation kept me from watching Lauren cling to Ky’s biceps while she dipped her fingers into his back pocket. I honestly didn’t know what my problem was. It had to be the gin…or the beer. I lost track of the number of drinks I sipped and set down, only to be handed another one. I was usually better at walking away from a drink or seven.

I threw in the towel sometime around two a.m. I was tired, tipsy on my way to drunk, and dangerously close to jealous. And I didn’t like the way the combination made me feel. I said my good-byes and waved away offers for a ride, assuring everyone I’d call for one instead. Then I headed for the back room behind the stage to grab my jacket and stopped short.

“What are you doing here?”

Ky snapped his guitar case shut and turned to me with a devilish smile. “Getting my bass and heading home.”

“Where’s Lauren?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“She’s not with you?”

Ky put his hand over his eyes like a sailor lost at sea and scanned the obviously empty area. “Nope.”

“Very funny.”

“Where’s Vin?”

“Home, I hope,” I groused.

“Hmph. Need a ride?”

“Um…” I frowned as I pulled my phone from my pocket. “I’m gonna call for one now. I’ll see you Monday.”

“Don’t be a shoobie. Get your shit together.”

“What’s a shoobie?”

“A dork, a numbskull, a real dweeb. Like someone who wears black socks to the beach.”

“I don’t do that,” I huffed.

“Yeah, that’s what all the shoobies say,” he teased. “I’m not taking no for an answer, Char. Chop-chop. Let’s get outta here.”

I rolled my eyes when he clapped. “I’m not driving anywhere with you. You’re drunk.”

“I’m not driving. I said we should share a ride. And you’re the one who’s had too much tonight. I’ve been watching you.”

“Me?” I sputtered.

“Yeah, you. And Vin.”

“Were you jealous?”

“Of course I was. Are you sharing a ride with me or not?”

“That’s not what you said, and you don’t live anywhere near me anyway,” I argued.

“Oh. True. Well, come wait outside with me. Everybody’s gone and I’m scared of the dark.” Ky widened his eyes comically as he bent to pick up his guitar case and sling his jacket over his shoulder.

I gave a half laugh, then nodded before following him through the side door exit. The eerie quiet was vaguely unsettling. I heard the slow hum of traffic, but not much else. The diehard patrons had been escorted through the main entrance while the club’s employees and the rest of the band were probably leaving through the back. We’d have to walk along the side of the darkened building to get to the street.



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