Unplugged (Blue Phoenix, #3)(45)

Following a trip to the bar, Liam leads us to a quiet corner with a beer and my diet coke. The last couple of times I’ve been out, I drank like I’m still a teen and suffered, so I’m starting with a soft drink. Although, I did sneak a glass of wine before we left, for Dutch courage.

Liam sits back against the leather bench with his arm across the back. I sit on the stool opposite so he shifts around to get closer. Liam’s leg settles against mine and triggers the annoying shortness of breath I get when he touches, the sensation of the muscled thigh arousing me more than a simple touch should.

“Your natural environment?” I ask him.

“Yeah. Sometimes.”

“Aren’t you bothered about Blue Phoenix fans coming here, too?”

He shrugs. “If they do, it’ll be Jem they’re interested in although the press has backed off a bit lately; they’re following some shitty boy band around at the moment. I expect there’ll be other people hanging round ready to take pictures.”

I tense. “And of me?”

He rubs thumb across my cheek. “Only if they see us doing something intimate.”

I shift my leg away. “Are Bryn and Jem bringing girls?”

“No idea.”

The idea of seeing Jem and Bryn again is strange. My recollections of the guys are stronger from when I was fifteen than the drunken night out a few years ago. How will they react to me and Liam together?

I’m interrupted by a girl arriving in the bar. ‘Arriving’ is a mild way of putting the entrance of the tall, skinny girl. She crashes through a side door and stomps in motorcycle boots across the room. Dressed in a short black dress barely covering any of her long legs, her hair shines scarlet red as it catches the light of the bar. The girl leans across and shouts at the barman. He hands her four beer bottles, which she picks up, two in each hand. As she turns around, the girl spots me and Liam in the corner.

“Are you Liam?” she asks.

“Why?”

“I’m only asking! Wow…” She stomps off.

Liam turns his surprised look to mine. “Did I say something wrong?”

“She must have missed the memo about your beautiful nature,” I reply.

Liam huffs and digs me in the ribs with his elbow. “Don’t start…”

I fight against the desire to shift closer to him, knowing he’ll put his arm around me. I’m behaving like a silly teen again, and I doubt that’s what Liam’s used to. Or maybe he is.

Shortly after the girl’s abrupt entrance and exit, the sound of people setting up the band equipment on the nearby stage crashes over the low music playing. Other new arrivals trickle into the bar area. They’re dressed down as if they threw on any clothes they found on their bedroom floor, but everyone appears more alike than the individual look they want. Nobody pays attention to us, Liam blends into the scene around him. When he pulls out his phone and sends a text, I use the moment surreptitiously to check my phone for texts from Phoebe.

<Stop checking your phone> is displayed on my screen.

Typical Phoebe.

“They’re running late,” says Liam, interrupting my considered response to Phoebe.

When an awkward silence joins us at the table, I decide alcohol is a good idea after all. Even though I’m comfortable around the St Davids Liam, he’s still Liam Oliver from Blue Phoenix and I’m a fish out of water in this venue. Liam returns to the bar and while he’s there a girl with long black hair and a too tight, short skirt approaches and chats to him. Behind my bristling jealousy is curiosity at how Liam handles his fame. I know he’s not at the forefront as Dylan and Jem are, but there’ll be others like me who prefer the quieter bass player to the egotistical pair.

When Liam returns with my vodka and tonic, he’s laughing to himself.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as he sets my drink on the table.

“That girl wanted to know if the rest of the band would be here tonight.”

“Isn’t Liam Oliver enough for her?”

“I told her Jem would be here and that seemed to brighten her evening.”

I giggle as he sits. “Oh well, you’ll have to make do with me then if the groupies are rejecting you.”

Liam catches me unaware by taking my chin in his hand and tugging my face toward his. “Make do?” He brushes his lips against mine. “I want everyone to know I’m with you.”

Liam’s hand remains under my chin, lips hovering close to mine. The slight taste of his kiss and the rough scrape from his skin takes over and flares my body to life. I can’t start kissing Liam, not here. He pushes my hair from my face, fingers grazing heat before he hesitantly places his mouth on mine again. I duck my head.

“Hey, Cherry Pie!” calls a voice.

I groan inwardly. There’s only one person who ever calls me that. I fail to see how Bryn can turn Cerys, which is pronounced Ker-iss, into ‘cherry’ or ‘pie’ but he somehow managed. One night around eight years ago, when he and the others were high in Liam’s room, he formulated the name and it stuck. Should I be flattered that he remembers?

Bryn stands at the edge of the table, arms open in greeting. “Long time, no see. I hear you’ve got a kid now!”

I hesitate before standing; Bryn is no longer an old friend but a famous guy I used to know. He’s also a lot broader and several inches taller than Liam, and if I didn’t know him, he’d intimidate me. Bryn squashes me to his chest in a bone-crushing hug, brown curls tickling my face. I extricate myself from his enthusiasm and he stands back, sweeping a gaze over me.