Out of my peripherals, I can see him glance at me. A furrow forms in his brow, but I can’t turn my head to look at him fully, can’t decipher the look he’s giving me. And then it’s gone, vanishing as quickly as the palm trees passing our windows as we cruise down the road at fifty-five.
A treble clef ornament hangs from my rearview mirror, and Dex reaches up to touch it, his tattoos contrasting against his skin.
“You’re cool, Nora,” he says quietly, almost thoughtfully. He’s said my name before, and it’s delicious every time, but he uses a different intonation this time, and it almost sounds like a foreign word on his tongue.
That makes me glance over at him, but he’s not looking at me, instead watching as the treble clef spins around and around, catching and reflecting the light from the passing streetlamps.
After that, Dex becomes quiet, and we don’t speak the rest of the way to the venue.
I CAN’T COUNT THE NUMBER of concerts I’ve played in over the course of my career, but I can count on one hand how many times Dex Reid has been in the audience.
Tuning up in the greenroom, my hands were shaking, and now, as I wait in the wings with Eleanor, I have to take steadying breaths to calm my racing heart.
“You okay?” she asks, giving me a curious once-over. “You look . . . nervous.”
I flash her a smile. “I’m fine. I’ve got a . . . friend in the audience tonight.”
Is that what Dex is? A friend? I’m not so sure I can even call him that. A sexy acquaintance I want to tear the clothes off of? Sure. But a friend? Probably not. And that makes me sad for some reason.
We’re introduced onstage, and the orchestra begins filing out into the lights. Because Eleanor is here, she’ll take to the stage last, so I head out with the others and find my second-chair spot.
I want to know where Dex is sitting, but the lights are so bright that I can’t make out any of the audience members with clarity. But I swear I can feel his eyes on me, and I sit straighter as Eleanor walks onstage and takes her place before the orchestra. She tunes the lower strings first, followed by the higher strings, and then takes her seat beside me.
I play more passionately than usual, drawing out each vibrato with intensity and emotion. It’s as if I’m playing for him, only him, in an auditorium with just the two of us. Knowing Dex is out there somewhere, watching me onstage, makes me want to perform at my highest ability, and I must do just that, because backstage after the performance, Mr. Edrington pulls me aside.
“I’m still taking sign-ups for the audition,” he says, peering at me over the thin rim of his glasses. His hair is wild from his energetic conducting, giving him a bit of an Einstein look. “You play in the audition like you did tonight, and you have a very good chance, Nora.”
“Thank you, sir.” I give him a bashful smile. “I’ll consider it.”
Yet again, he looks displeased with my answer.
“Very well.” He sighs and walks off to speak with some of the other musicians, and my joy is knocked down just a peg.
In the greenroom, a group of women talk excitedly, and despite my anxious thoughts and the disappointment gnawing at my stomach, I can’t help but overhear.
“Someone said Dex Reid is in the audience.”
I pause putting my violin away.
“No way. Why would he be here?”
“I don’t know, but hurry up! Let’s try to catch him before he leaves.”
The women hurry past, not paying me any mind, and my stomach turns. I hope he’s not being bombarded with people and cameras and requests for autographs. Seeing the way he rolled his window up in the car earlier, I know he’s not in the mood for it tonight.
Now I’m doubting whether it was a good idea to even invite him to the concert. Maybe he just said yes because he felt bad, and now he’s going to be swarmed with crazy fans.
After hurriedly packing up, I make my way out the main doors, keeping an eye out for throngs of people. I don’t see Dex anywhere, and the women who were talking about him are standing in front of the building, looking dejected.
Good. That means they couldn’t find him.
Heading around to the back of the building, I spot my Honda in the far corner of the parking lot, a dark figure leaning against the passenger’s side. The sun has long since gone down, and Dex is just a faceless shadow standing in the dark.
“Hey,” I say, a little breathless as I get to the car and look around to make sure no one has spotted him. “You okay?”
When he turns around, his face is calm. “Yeah. Why?”
I let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, I just heard some people saying they’d seen you and was afraid they were bothering you.”
His calm expression shifts, and now he’s smiling at me.
“What?” I ask.
“You were worried about me?”
Heat flares in my cheeks, and I grip my violin case a little tighter. “Yeah, I guess so . . . I didn’t want anyone harassing you.”
Dex leans his elbows on top of my car, and my eyes trace the ink running up his forearms, across his biceps, and under the sleeves of his tee.
“That might be the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” His smile is shifting into a smirk now, and I roll my eyes, hoping he can’t see the flush in my cheeks in the low light.
“Okay, hurry up and unlock the car before a horde comes this way.” I gesture at the rear door, and Dex smirks at me a moment longer before pulling the key out of his pocket and unlocking the doors.
When we arrived, I headed in first to prepare for the concert, and he stayed in the car until the start of the concert to avoid being seen by everyone in the auditorium. Sure, he was still spotted, but our plan seems to have worked considering there aren’t any groupies flocking around him right now.
