“You look great. Let’s go.” Jessa smacks my ass, walking to the door.

“Thanks, so do you.” I grab my phone and lip gloss, shoving them in a small cross body purse. I don’t know how Jessa goes without a purse every time.

She is giddy with excitement as I follow her down the hall. Her short skirt with checkered tights and Doc Martens makes her look so much sexier than me. A twinge of jealousy sweeps over me, that Brady might prefer Jessa over me. Who wouldn’t?

Brady is leaning against a midnight blue Camaro with two white racing stripes down the middle when we walk outside. He smiles up at me, pushing his body off the car to open the passenger door for us.

“Hey,” I say, my eyes barely looking at him.

“Hey,” he returns, motioning with his hand for us to get in.

“Brady, you remember Jessa.” I signal my hand out to her.

“Yeah, hey Jessa.” Brady shakes her hand.

“Hi, Brady,” Jessa responds and I see her lips turn up in appreciation, eyeing him up and down before she gets in the back of his car.

Right before I bend down to get in the car, Brady reaches around my waist and pulls me in for hug. “You look incredible,” he whispers in my ear and my face immediately starts to blush.

“Thank you. You look pretty good yourself.” I quickly sit in my seat before he notices how red I’ve become.

“God Sadie, what did he say?” Jessa eagerly asks from the backseat while I watch Brady make his way around the car to the driver’s side.

“Shh…I’ll tell you later.” I wave my hand at her.

“You better.” She relaxes back into her seat and secures her seatbelt.

Brady eases into his charcoal-colored fabric seat. He’s wearing another band t-shirt that looks as old as the band displayed. When he starts the ignition, I notice a couple of black leather bands around his right wrist.

“We Built this City” by Starship blares and Brady hurriedly turns it down before pressing a button on the radio. “Sorry, must have come on after the song I was listening to before,” he quickly comes up with an excuse.

I remain silent. I don’t mention that I saw him press the button, switching it from CD to radio. I most definitely don’t mention my appreciation of eighties music as well.

“It sounds like your music, Sadie,” Jessa chimes in from the back seat. I can’t turn around to give her a dirty look so I stay quiet. Brady looks my way and grins, waiting for me to say something.

“I’m pleading the Fifth.” I slightly smile and stare ahead, trying to ignore him staring at me.

“Me too.” He smiles and turns back toward the road, putting the car in drive.

Aces is an actual bar, not like the place I saw The Invisibles play last week. The stage is situated to the right and booths line the wall along the windows. Tables fill the floor with a small bar in the corner on the left.

Brady grabs my hand and leads me to a circular booth off to the right of the stage, motioning for me to get in. The bar seems empty except for a few middle-aged men sitting in the stools around the bar and a few couples occupying the tables.

“We have to get everything set up. Do you want something to drink?” Brady asks, staying on the outside of the booth while Jessa and I scoot in.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Alright. It won’t be long,” he says hesitantly, standing by the table.

“Jeez. Just go. I’ll take care of her,” Jessa impatiently tells him.

Brady grins and turns around to head down the hallway.

“Be nice, Jessa. He’s just being polite,” I tell her.

“That was nice. I could have told him to go get his fucking equipment and give you some damn breathing room,” she responds, straight-faced.

“God, Jessa,” I sigh.

“Well, he can’t stop staring at you. It’s making me sick. Just look now.” She motions her head to Brady, who is walking back down the hall holding a large, black square box. His eyes are set on me the whole time. When our eyes meet, he winks.

“Whatever.” I ignore her comment. I’m in his direct line of vision.

Three other guys follow Brady up on stage. The first has a guitar swung over his shoulder, carrying a piece of the drum kit. He has spiky black hair with an eyebrow ring and a huge tattoo that covers his elbow. After he places the drum down, he glances our way and his stunning blue eyes set me back. One side of his mouth turns up in interest, staring between Jessa and me.

The next guy has another guitar instrument across his back and symbols fill his arms. He is shorter than Brady and has dreamy blue eyes, but his body is completely rock hard. His shirt is so tight you can almost make out every curve and crevice in his chest and shoulders. Buzzed brown hair covers his head and I don’t see any piercings or tattoos on him, but black boots cover the bottom of his black jeans.

The last band member lingers a few steps behind holding two drums, a pair of drumsticks sticking out of his back pocket. He is wearing a black tank top, but you would think it was a full shirt with all the tattoos covering his chest and arms. His hair is tucked behind a baseball cap that rests backward on his head. His appearance intimidates me, showing me again how out of place I am in Brady’s world.

“Holy shit. Check out his band. I would take any one of them.” Jessa gawks up at the stage with wide eyes, like it’s a buffet.

“Haven’t you seen them before?” I inquire.

“Just last week and I was a little occupied,” she says with a smile.

“Oh yeah, Mr. Rebel,” I utter in disgust, reminded of her tongue down his throat.

“I’m getting all hot just thinking about him,” she says, waving her hand rapidly across her face.

“I sure as shit hope you are talking about me.” The dark, spiky-haired guy sits down next to Jessa, his eyes roaming across her body.

“Um…no.” She turns her whole body my way, putting her back toward him.

“Give me five minutes and you will be,” he responds to her back. Jessa remains quiet which surprises me. In the month I have known her, she has never once held her tongue. She transferred here as well which makes me wonder if there’s something in her past she’s running from, but I never ask her and she never asks me. It works for us.

Jessa hits my hip with her hand, pushing me to get out of the booth. For some reason she wants to get away from him and I don’t know why. “Come on Sadie, let’s go get a drink.”

Brady takes a seat next to me, trapping us in the booth. “Don’t worry, Roni will come over,” he says to Jessa. Her face is red and I swear I can hear her heart beating.

“So, this is Rob,” Brady says, pointing to the spiky, black-haired guy, “Trey,” pointing to the drummer, “And the muscle man is Hulk. Guys, this is Sadie and Jessa.” I feel their eyes on me. They are judging and evaluating me. From the expressions on their faces, I assume Brady has already spoken about me, which terrifies and thrills me at the same time.

“Hulk?” Jessa questions.

“Actually it’s Dex. These dipshits think it’s funny to call me Hulk. They’re just jealous because I could kick all their asses.” He smirks up at us.

“It’s nice to meet all of you,” I tell them.

“You too,” Trey replies back sincerely, and Dex nods his head in agreement.

Rob’s eyes travel from my chest back up to my face and I notice the disappointment. He shrugs his shoulders but nods toward me, informing me he heard me. He already knows I shouldn’t be with Brady. As his friend, he senses my baggage and doesn’t approve.

In the meantime, Jessa is sitting hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder next to me, making me move closer to Brady, who only smiles and rests his arm behind me. Shivers roll off my back as his thumb accidentally touches my neck.

A waitress, most likely in her late thirties, comes by. Her hair is piled high in a ponytail and she’s dressed in a pair of jeans and an Aces t-shirt with a name tag that reads Veronica. She pulls out her pad of paper and pen looking down at us.