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The Heart Surgeons

A Reverse Harem Rockstar Romance

S.E. RILEY

Copyright © 2024 S.E. Riley; All rights reserved.

ALLY

Friday night at the Sarajevo Nightclub was a booming, packed affair. The club was packed wall-to-wall with everyone and anyone, while the bassline of the latest chart-topper pulsed through the building. Strobe lights cast over dancers on the floor below.

“What a turnout,” the girl next to me, Charlotte, said, her eyes glinting with the excitement of wanting to be part of the energy. “This is honestly crazy.”

I laughed, barely able to hear her over the music. “We’re not in the quiet suburbs anymore.”

Charlotte clinked her drink against mine in a cheers to that. We were up on a steel balcony that looked over the dance floor below. TV screens on the wall threw images of the band we were all there to celebrate.

The Heart Surgeons were a three-member British boy band about to embark on their first world tour. Kicking it off here in Washington, their launch party was an invite-only guest list, and the whole club had been hired out for the celebration. Charlotte was my assistant, having met her last year at a small fashion convention in South Dakota. Her enthusiasm and excitement was what I needed to take me further in my career as a stylist. She wore her hair in bouncing red curls that framed her face, and her eyes, dark and thick, contrasted with her otherwise bouncy vibe.

“Another drink?” Charlotte shouted, nodding at my empty cup.

“Sure,” I answered. She disappeared, and I found myself looking at the screens, taking in the band as images looped of their career and albums so far. My heart clenched in my chest. I averted my gaze, letting myself shake off any nerves. This was my biggest job to date. Alongside Charlotte, we would be styling the band throughout their US portion of the tour.

When Charlotte returned, she pressed another punchy cocktail into my hands. As I surveyed the club, waiting for the moment the band would walk in, Charlotte was on a spiel of excitement. This was her first time on a massive project like this, away from her home state of New Hampshire. I loved her passion; it was one of the reasons I’d taken her on as an assistant.

“What concepts do you think we’ll get to try out?” she was saying. “Maybe we could match wardrobes to each city. We should go over your designs again! I’m thinking we could switch up who we style day-to-day so we both get a chance to work with all the guys. Did I ever mention how grateful I am that you took me on and gave me this opportunity? Because, honestly if you’d have told the me from two years ago that I’d be helping to style The Heart Surgeons, I’d have been-Holy shit, is that Freya Solomon?”

I straightened up, suddenly attentive to more than just the TV screens and the dancefloor. A woman had just come in through a side entrance on the other end of the balcony where we were leaning on the railing. Her lips were in a perpetual pout, caramel-colored hair tumbling down her back in loose curls. She was gorgeous-and unfortunately, she had it in for me after I snagged this gig over her.

Freya had been in the business far longer than me, with a bigger portfolio, but, in the end, I’d had the freshest ideas.

As soon as Freya’s eyes landed on us, she gave a wide smile that showed far too much teeth for my liking. She sauntered over to us, holding a glass of prosecco in her hand.

“She’s coming over,” Charlotte hissed. “Do I look okay? Is my hair still neat? Should I have worn a different out-”

“Ally,” Freya greeted me, her smile so false, suddenly in our faces. “How nice to see you.”

“Don’t act like it’s a surprise.” I brightened my voice to match her false tone and smiled as fake as she did. “You knew we’d be here.”

Freya’s eyes slid to Charlotte. “Yes. Both of you.” She let out an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I couldn’t miss the launch party, either way. I might not know the band personally but I suppose a handout to a newbie in the industry can’t hurt once in a while.” She cocked her head. “Did I mention who I’m styling next month?”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” I answered drily, sipping my drink.

“Only the newest addition to Broadway,” she said, a satisfied smile on her face. “So I do hope you enjoy your tour bus confinements, Ally, because you’ll have to get used to them over the next few months. Let’s just hope your winning personality gets you favor with the band.”

I could hear Charlotte whispering in awe over Freya’s upcoming job.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not a handout if I’ve earned it.” My career might not have been as glamorous as Freya’s so far, and I hadn’t been a designer for as long, but I had earned this job. I was good. They needed me on this tour. I didn’t need her trying to tear me down. “Enjoy Broadway.”

“Oh, I will.” Her smile was a snake’s bite. Freya leaned in closer to me enough that I could smell her flowery perfume. “A word of warning, Ally. You’re young, you’re new, but that’ll wear off soon. Not everyone will be wanting the newbie fresh eyes after you’ve completed the tour. I would be careful if I was you. New designers can…” She sniffed daintily. “Mess up now and then.”

I stood up straighter, flicking a length of hair over my shoulder. “Thank you but I don’t need your fake concern, Freya. My career is very secure. Besides, I’m sure when one is as well-seasoned as you, laziness can lead to slip-ups. Comfort breeds mistakes, doesn’t it?”

Charlotte watched us with wide eyes. Freya’s smile turned tight as she finally stepped away. She met Charlotte’s glance. “Good luck.”

“Thank you!” Charlotte answered, her voice trembling, as if still unsure of how to approach the tension. Freya Solomon finally left us alone, and I let out a long breath.

“God, what a damper to the night,” I muttered. I took a few moments to centre myself once more, remind myself of who I was and why I was there.

I was Ally Casey from South Dakota. The industry knew me as Ally Grace... I’d impressed manager after manager with designs that showcased my eye for fashion. I was damn good, and some jealous designer who thought she knew best wouldn’t take that away from me.

“Hey, look, everyone’s waiting.” Charlotte pointed down at the dancefloor where there was less dancing now and more watching. All eyes were on the main doors that led to the club. I held my breath, waiting.

And then they entered.

All three strolled in so casually, smiles on their faces. Dressed in dark aesthetics and hair that matched all of their individual looks, The Heart Surgeons immediately had a circle around them as the room erupted into cheers and chants of their names above the thumping music. Hudson Delphie, the charismatic lead singer and guitarist; Skipper McFarlane, the sharp-eyed drummer; and, finally, Josie Nelson, the bassist with a soft smile that had turned many admired gazes into a full-on swoon.

“Ally!” My name was called, breaking my focus on the band. I whirled around to find Janet Kilaine, my absolute rockstar of an agent, making a beeline for me. “Time to go meet the band. You too, Charlotte. Let’s get you guys acquainted as soon as possible.”

Her spiked short hair made her look fierce, especially in ripped jeans and a shirt with printed writing all over the design. She was cool, unlike the stuffy corporate agents I’d always thought I’d end up having. It was her who had bagged me this job.

In comparison to Janet’s cool aesthetic, and the bands’ darker clothes palettes, I felt too bright, too preppy, but I let my worries about that fade quickly. I tried to push Freya’s attitude from my mind too. I needed to focus on the band.

Tonight wasn't about me.

Janet led me down a steel staircase. Bodies bumped into us as the music poured from a DJ booth at the back. My heart picked up a nervous rhythm, and soon, I was there, the band fanning out in front of me.

“Guys!” Janet called, beckoning them closer. “Come meet your new stylist, Ally Grace. Ally, this is The Heart Surgeons. Sorry for the informal meeting but what better way to get this party on the road than here, huh?”

“Awesome,” Josie said, stepping forward first. “Ally, hey, I’m Josie.”

Josie’s hair was long, falling to his shoulders. His eyes found mine, a softness in them that seemed at-odds with the band’s vibes, but I liked it. He held out his hand. I shook it.

“Great to meet you,” I said. “I’m excited to work together. This is Charlotte, my assistant. She’ll be overseeing everything. If you ever can’t reach me, find her and she’ll flag me down.”

“Sounds cool,” he said. Then Skipper moved forward. His shaved head made his sharp features stand out even more. His eyes, green and bright, flicked over me with interest.

“Hey, Ally.” He held out a hand, and I noticed tattoos winding down his fingers and disappearing beyond the cuff of his jacket. “Skipper.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, my heart fluttering. Get it together, I reminded myself. Be professional. But Skipper’s grin exposed sharp canines and he toyed with a labret piercing as he regarded me. He was cool, and he knew it. I stepped back, flushing.

Then there was Hudson Delphie. The charmer of a lead singer, with his shaved undercut and shock of black hair slicked back. Some of it curled gorgeously over his forehead. His eyes found mine, and suddenly, the club faded away.

He stepped towards me, and I towards him. An arm snaked around my waist. He bent his face down to me, his mouth grazing my ear. “It’s been a long time, Ally.”

{1

ALLY

With the band now here, the launch party was in full swing. More and more people crowded into the club, names ticked off a guest list outside, shuffled into the club with wristbands on, and then everybody went crazy.

Drinks were spilled, people tugged dance partners closer, and hands wandered suggestively. Women flocked around The Heart Surgeons, some asking for autographs and others simply wanting to be close to the band. A photographer kept snapping pictures around the nightclub, the flash catching my eye every time. Charlotte was networking, something I appreciated, as I kept to myself near the back. She wasn’t far away, and when the band came up the stairs and noticed me sitting alone, they joined me, spreading out.

Next to the bar was a seated area of leather black couches. It was comfortable and cozy, a strangely intimate part of the club that felt set back from the hub of energy on the dancefloor.

I’d never liked the party scene. Unfortunately, it was part of my job to mingle and network but tonight, I just wanted to attend, do what I had to do, and get home. I was itching to work on more designs ahead of schedule. I scrolled through my own personal dashboard where I kept a lot of inspiration and my own sketches. Pictures of fabrics and color schemes were artfully arranged on a mood board that I browsed through. It was my own fashion line, something I was hoping to incorporate into my job with The Heart Surgeons. While it was amazing to dress them in big label names, I dreamed of one day, a notorious performer announcing that they were wearing an Ally Grace outfit.

That was part of why I’d accepted the gig as The Heart Surgeons’ stylist. It would keep me relevant, at the heart of the action, and let me expand my inspiration across the cities they’d tour at, and my aesthetic was perfect for the band. I was excited to keep designing as we traveled, and I knew there would be plenty of downtime on the bus while the band performed. I had an exhausting few months ahead of me but I was rearing to go. I’d been waiting on confirmation ever since the band announced their world tour months ago. I had begged Janet to snag me the job.

My agent was chatting away to the band, sorting out logistics, but I could feel eyes on me, flicking over as if trying to be disinterested but they kept coming back. I kept my attention firmly on my phone, tuning out the sound of Skipper and Josie talking to Janet. Hudson chimed in every now and then to add something but he was mostly quiet.

I wanted time to work on my fashion line and launch it. Having the men be interviewed about their aesthetics and outfits would get my name dropped into conversation. I could start next year with a massive win if I had a line ready to launch right after the tour.

Ambition rose in me, alongside determination that this was about to be a positive turn of events. This would be my big break.

As long as my past with Hudson remained in the past and didn’t cause any conflict, I could be strictly professional and come out of this tour on top. Seeing him again and hearing his acknowledgment of our past sparked something in me that I didn’t want to think too hard about. It had been a long time, but the past was the past. I was only looking towards the future now.

And yet…

His arms around me had felt so right when we’d been reintroduced. I’d almost forgotten what that felt like, or how his eyes had always softened slightly when he looked at me. His face was so chiseled that he always looked intimidating. Paired with the tattoos he loved to flaunt with sleeveless tank tops and jackets, he was a force to be reckoned with. Charismatic and charming, he won over every woman he talked to. I had been one of them, falling willingly into the Hudson Delphie effect. On stage, he knew how to work an audience but behind closed doors, he was a different person. I’d been privileged enough to see that.

The smell of that same cologne he’d always worn lingered on the collar of my jacket. Glancing around to make sure nobody was looking at me, I discreetly turned my nose into the collar, and let myself breathe in his scent for a few seconds. I had months of being around him ahead of me. I needed to get it together and remind myself that the past was purely that. Before I could be caught out, I turned my attention back to my phone, away from the scent on my jacket. Why had he felt the need to pull me into him?

I scowled as my phone lagged and I glanced up. Hudson’s eyes were on me for a second before he flicked his gaze away.

Behind him, Charlotte bounded over and dropped into the seat next to me. I sighed, clicking my phone screen off.

“Oh! My! God! Ally, guess what!” She pushed her phone at me to where her X profile showed Freya Solomon’s name and her picture. Her banner was her name and logo with all her accolades listed. Next to her display name read Follows you. “Freya exchanged socials! Isn’t that awesome? I’ve been, like, noticed. I thought there was no way she’d ever notice me, and why would she? She’s a massive hotshot in the industry but she came over again after you know... you and her...”

I didn’t like the way she was putting herself down like that. Charlotte’s portfolio was impressive, full of innovative ideas and concepts. Her off-beat ideas were one of the reasons I had chosen her as my assistant. That, and her enthusiasm, had seemed to combat my more chilled nature, and I thought it was a healthy balance.

“You’re amazing, Lottie,” I told her. “Don’t discredit yourself against someone like Freya Solomon.”

“The legend Freya Solomon,” she corrected. I could practically see the stars in her eyes as she started to scroll through Freya’s social media. No doubt she already had but now she was an insider.

“Freya Solomon?” Skipper asked, leaning in to hear us over the music.

“Yeah,” Charlotte answered, excited that someone was more interested in her new follower than I was. “Isn’t that cool?”

“That is, actually. She styled my mother once for a red carpet.”

I bit down on any retort out of respect. Everyone knew the infamous Molly McFarlane, opera singer who’d taken the world with her siren-like voice, luring the attention of anyone who practically looked at her. She had been gorgeous with a mane of red hair and always dressed in a glittering shade of red. Knowing Freya had been behind one of her outfits made me prickle. It was because of Molly’s reputation that Skipper being announced as the drummer for a rock band was so bizarre. But, as he’d said in an interview that I’d watched recently to brush up on the band, he lived to surprise.

“I respect my mum,” he’d said in the interview. “But I don’t live in her shadow. We’re two very different, talented people.” I respected his sincerity.

Skipper’s eyes were on me across the small seating space.

It was only when the quietened conversation occurred to Charlotte that she looked at me with wide, apologetic eyes. “Damn. Ally, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insinuate anything against you.”

“It’s no big deal,” I shrugged. I knew she would be on eggshells around me, wanting this job. But she was newer than me, and if her idol was following her on X and noticing her, who was I to take that away from her, even if I was a little envious?

I looked at The Heart Surgeons with a sense of satisfaction. I had been the one to get the job over a legend.

“I mean, she’s stuck on Broadway now, anyway,” Charlotte muttered. “That must suck. At least we get to tour the whole of the US. We get to be on the road with these guys.” She grinned at me, backtracking. I fought the urge to laugh and roll my eyes. Instead, I gave her the out.

“Right? We have a way better gig than her.”

“I’m glad you see it that way,” Josie joked, listening in. Only then did I realize Janet had slipped away, and the men were tuning into my and Charlotte’s conversation. Hudson’s face was lit up by the strobe lights, casting sharp angles over his jawline and cheekbones. I remembered how they felt beneath my thumb when I’d held his face. My cheeks flushed at the reminder.

His mouth crooked into a grin when I squirmed under his attention.

“Anyway, though, I really am sorry,” Charlotte said. “It’s just that-”

A clearing of a throat interrupted her apology, which I was glad for. Just because there was bad air between Freya and I, shouldn’t mean that Charlotte couldn’t idolize her. As long as she kept her eyes on our gig and didn’t want to back out of the job, I didn’t mind who she gushed over.

Hudson stood over me. The sleeveless tank he wore was plastered to his body because of the heat in the club. I could almost see the defined muscles he had started to maintain, exposing the line of tattoos down his arm. A thick silver band was on his middle finger of the hand he held out to me. “Come dance with me.” It wasn’t quite a question, not quite a demand. His British accent accentuated every syllable. That quiet smile still played on his lips, utterly handsome, and I felt my heart swoop.

Get it together, Ally.

His hand was outstretched, offering to pull me up and lead me down to the dance floor. What was his angle? I should have been professional and contacted him before working together to ask how we’d navigate our past. Now he’d acknowledged it, and his scent lingered on my jacket, clouding my rationality.

Or was this a friendly olive branch?

I chided myself for being so foolish.

It was just a dance.

I slipped my hand into his, immediately shivering at the contact.

{1

ALLY

We wove through the bodies, making our way down the stairs and into the throng of bodies pressed together. It was packed and sweaty. Beneath my boots, the dance floor was sticky, and I could feel the burn of eyes on me as people noticed who I was with.

A heavy song came over the club, something I could imagine Hudson singing an acoustic cover of, strumming his guitar on stage, before taking it right into the heavier side with Skipper and Josie joining in. I wondered if they’d cover songs on their tour, but my wondering was cut short when Hudson shifted in front of me. He blocked my view of Charlotte, who was watching from the railing with a secretive smile.

At first, my movements were awkward. He shot me a handsome grin, his nose ring catching the light. I couldn’t help looking at his neck tattoo: a scorpion that curled around the back of his neck to slither down the front of his chest. It was new but I didn’t know how recent it was.

I pushed away any admiration of him.

And then he pulled me closer, and all professional thoughts quietened. For a second, I wasn’t Ally Grace, industry designer and stylist. I was Ally Casey, the girl he’d known five years ago during my internship year in London. Back then, he’d just been Hudson and I’d just been Ally. Simple, uncomplicated at first.

His hands found my hips, and I stepped out of his grasp. He cocked a brow at me.

“You never got that brow piercing you always talked about,” I said before I could think twice about it.

“And you never got the tattoo you wanted on your inner forearm,” he retorted. I blinked, surprised he remembered. The music wove around us, trying to lure us into a spell I was desperately trying to ignore. There was something so intimate about dancing with someone, especially a man I used to love.

“You remember?”

“I designed it. Hard to forget how much work I put in.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course it’s about you and your effort. Maybe I just changed my mind.”

“Maybe you didn’t want the reminder,” Hudson shot back. And I hated that he was right. I’d planned to get the tattoo for my twenty-second birthday but we’d broken up a month before that and I didn’t want the memory of his art on me. He’d designed a skull with a snake wound through one eye and the mouth, the scales made up of hearts. The initial sketch was still among my belongings but I wasn’t about to tell him that.

“I like the scorpion,” I said instead, nodding to his neck.

My dancing was still stiff, ignored for the sake of talking to him. Around us, people jumped and yelled along to the music but all I could see was Hudson-his height, at least five inches taller than me, and how overwhelming his presence had always been. Even before The Heart Surgeons, he had always had a certain presence.

Once again, Hudson’s hands found my hips. This time, I didn’t bat them away. Especially not when his mouth was at my ear again.

“Scorpions are dangerous,” he whispered, and I repressed a shudder at how his voice deepened. “I needed the reminder of who I was after we broke up.”

“Dangerous?” I asked.

“Ruthless,” he answered. “Limitless. I needed to tell myself that I couldn’t be put in a box.” He pulled back. “It hurt like a motherfucker though.”

“They’re also new,” I said, checking out the double lobe piercings.

“Do you like them?” he asked, a coy smirk on his lips.

“What do you care if I do or don’t?”

“You’d be surprised that I still hold you in high regard when it comes to my appearance.”

“Vain, as always,” I muttered.

But then his mouth was lowered again, lips brushing the shell of my ear. I was all too aware of his hands on me, the eyes on us. His bandmates, so near. My agent. I let it all fade away and let myself be wrapped up in his scent. “If memory serves me right, my vanity led us to some good situations with mirrors.”

His hands had me relaxing further into his touch as I recalled exactly what he meant. My twenty-first birthday, the only one I’d spent with him. A hotel room, a mirrored ceiling, his voice low and commanding in my ear.

Eyes on me, sweetheart.

My eyelashes fluttered as I swallowed tightly. Despite our break-up, and it having been so long since I’d seen Hudson, my body remembered him. His accent had always been something I’d loved: how polite he had sounded but how filthy his words could be behind closed doors. It had never failed to incite more desire in me as it was doing now.

“Admit it, you miss me,” he said lowly. His eyes roved my face, seeking the answer before I could verbally deny it.

“I don’t miss anything,” I said, but my voice cracked, and he looked so smug.

“Not even our central London apartment together?” He teased. “You loved sitting by the window in the autumn, watching the leaves fall. You’d always wear my t-shirts, they barely covered your a-”

“Hudson,” I gasped, desire blooming through me. “I-I work for you now. Let’s be…” I wanted to say professional but he flexed his fingers against my hips, and the heat of him was intoxicating. I did miss that damn apartment. I missed waking up to find him smoking out the window, or the sleepy smile he’d crack at me when I emerged from our bedroom at midday. And he was right: I’d always wear his t-shirts because I knew they didn’t cover a whole lot. The soft with the heat, always a mixture with him, never knowing which side of him I’d get. The polite British guy who sang like an angel and strummed his guitar in such a way that would distract me, or the hot musician who knew exactly how to weave words to get my knees to buckle.

“Why won’t you just admit it? Is it really so hard?” he asked, still smirking. He knew I did; I just didn’t want to give him any further satisfaction of hearing it.

But that fucking smirk and the insanely distracting circles he was rubbing into my hipbone had me weak. With a small snarl, I snagged his wrist and dragged him off the dance floor.

We pushed past dancers and loiterers and found the cloak closet. The light from outside was cut off, and somehow being in such a dim space was easier as I pushed him back against the line of coats at the back of the closet. His breath caught as my mouth was on his.

“You’re so damn smug,” I muttered, my nails scratching over the shaved undercut. They made their way down to that scorpion tattoo, and I dragged them hard enough to leave little red lines.

Hudson cursed under his breath before he turned us around. “Don’t kid yourself,” he purred. “You’re not in charge here.”

“Then show me who is,” I gasped, arching into him as my other hand slipped down his body, feeling those defined muscles I’d seen a hint of earlier. Impatient, I tugged at his tank top to bare him fully to me. He pulled back to tug it over his head. I heard the tinkle of a chain that I knew well. He’d always worn a key on a chain, the key to his childhood home, although he never visited the last time we were together. I looped a finger around the chain and flattened my palm over his chest. When had he bulked up so much?

I stifled a groan when I explored further, hands scrabbling over his belt and the patch of skin that I had access to through the large rip in his black jeans. I scratched his thigh through the rip and he shuddered. He pressed against me, his cock twitching against me.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Fuck, Ally. Just fucking admit you miss me already.”

“You first,” I bit back, snagging his lower lip between my teeth. I palmed him with one hand, as my other hand worked his belt open and yanked down the zip. No underwear. Some things hadn’t changed about him, then.

“Doesn’t it feel like I’ve missed you?” he asked, hissing as I took him in hand.

“I want to hear you say it.” I wanted to push him, make him snap the way I used to be able to. He was holding back. “Say you missed me, Hudson.” I lowered to my knees to pull his jeans down further. His cock curved towards his stomach and, without warning, I sank my mouth onto him.

It had been a while since I’d done this but I relaxed my throat, remembering how I used to take all of him. Hudson moaned roughly, the sound coming from deep in his chest. He grabbed fistfuls of my hair, pulling me closer.

“This is new,” he noted with a groan, sifting through the length of my hair, finding the black dyed layers beneath the bleach blonde. “I like it.”

I hollowed my cheeks and let my mouth work him thoroughly, pulling him close to the edge. “God, you’re right. I did miss you.” He ground his cock into my mouth, pushing to the back of my throat. He thumbed down my throat as I swallowed around him. He caressed my cheeks, feeling the outline of him. I looked up at him from my knees. “Get back up here.”

Before I could say anything, I stood and he grabbed my wrists, turning me around and pinning them behind my back. He pushed up the short skirt I wore, buckled with a large belt-half of it was checked, the other part leather. He exposed the black lacy underwear I wore, as skimpy as it was.

He hooked a finger around the thin strip of material that barely covered me. “Are you kidding me? You may as well wear nothing.” Hudson’s hand smacked my ass, and I moaned. His fingers explored further to where I was wet and parting for him.

“Still don’t want to admit you miss me?” he asked, pointedly circling his fingers through my arousal.

“No,” I answered stubbornly.

“Fine.”

Then his cock was pushing against me, and I inhaled sharply. God, how could I have forgotten how thick he was? It was delicious, and I fell back into him. His arm coiled around my torso, hands spreading to grasp my breasts. My head fell back against his shoulder as he fucked into me at a speed that stole my breath. It reminded me that we’d be noticed if we were missing for too long.

But that was part of the allure.

“You always loved to tease me with your fucking underwear,” Hudson groaned. I clenched around him. “I always remember you wearing the shortest dresses and skirts, always flashing me in restaurants and shit.”

We’d found ourselves having sex in enough public bathrooms during our relationship, trying to be quiet. I’d lost count of how many times I’d come with his fingers in my mouth to quieten me.

“You loved how much I wanted you,” I gasped as he slammed into me over and over, finding that spot inside me that made me let out a wanton moan. Suddenly, I wanted to relieve that past heat and reached for his hand, bringing it up to my mouth. My body broke out in a sweat as he fucked me hard and fast. He slipped his index and middle finger past my lips, and I swirled my tongue around the digits, licking over the thick ring he wore. I bit down around his knuckles and hollowed my cheeks as he cursed, barely pulling out anymore. He gave short and fast thrusts that had me falling closer to my climax.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” and it was the use of that moniker and his teeth snagging on my earlobe, my arching back as he hit the spot inside me, that had me coming.

I let out a muffled moan around his fingers, hands gripping his forearm and digging in as pleasure wracked through me.

“Good girl, fuck, you’re so good. Missed this, Ally.” He was losing himself to his own pleasure and his thrusts turned looser. He pushed right into me and moaned against my neck. His teeth grazed my nape as he came.

I shivered at the feeling, his chest heaving against my back.

Hudson pulled out, muttering under his breath. He let out a long exhale. I found purchase on a coat hanger and rested my forehead against my arm, catching my breath. Quickly, rationality rushed back into me as I fixed my skirt and cropped shirt, and listened to Hudson’s zipper being pulled back up.

I turned to him. He hadn’t yet put his tank back on. I forced my gaze away from his chest. Clarity rushed into me as he looked at me expectantly. I still couldn’t admit I missed him. Even now, with the tang of his ring still on my tongue and his skin baring scratches that would fade soon.

“This was a mistake,” I said, not entirely aware that the admission was coming out before I could stop it.

“Sorry?”

“This… Us. It was a mistake. A one-time thing.”

“Jesus, Ally,” he said. “I’m so glad sex brought clarity. It always did though, didn’t it? Wasn’t that how you broke up with me? What, one last time each time you want to push me away? Some things don’t change.”

“This is entirely different,” I snapped, suddenly angry. “I work for you! I’m-Hudson, I’m about to go on tour with you for months. I need to be professional.”

“I see, especially just now when my dick was in-”

“You’re such a hypocrite!” I yelled. “I need to put my career first. Doesn’t that sound familiar?”

The words were pure venom, reminding him exactly why we had broken up. We were both viciously ambitious and didn’t like anyone being in our way.

“Ally-”

“No. Like I said, this was a mistake.”

My cheeks burned with fury as I stared at him, finding only a glare.

“Fine,” he snapped. As he turned on his heel, a knock sounded on the door of the closet. I froze. Hudson shook his head, grabbed his tank top, and yanked it on as he opened the door. Josie and Skipper stood in the doorway. Goddamn perfect. Hudson stormed off, out of view. I met Josie’s eyes and then Skipper’s before they left to follow Hudson.

I sighed and walked out of the closet in the opposite direction.

I slunk back to where I’d been previously, ordering myself another drink.

“So much for keeping things professional,” I muttered to myself.

{1

ALLY

Four days later, I was waiting in the wings of the stage at The Anthem. It was a large venue, a massive upgrade to what the men were used to, from what Janet had told me. I kept shifting, my nerves getting the better of me. Charlotte was a bundle of energy next to me as the crowd milled about.

An upcoming band that had debuted six months ago had opened for The Heart Surgeons, and left the audience on a high note. Energy and anticipation washed over the empty stage as if it might bring the band on sooner.

We were waiting for the men to come out so we could do our last few checks. They were hovering around the tech table backstage, grabbing mics, linking up guitars, and Skipper had a drumstick go missing earlier, so he’d spent most of the day drinking off his irritation. He’d thrown a fit about it on the bus on the way here, but Josie had only tried to play a prank to taunt him.

“You don’t mess with a drummer’s sticks, man,” he’d snapped at Josie, who’d only shrugged.

“Don’t fuck with my bass picks, then,” he retorted.

“How about we all just keep our hands to our own things,” Hudson had chided them both.

Now, brought back together by the promise of a high-energy first gig, The Heart Surgeons were rearing to go. I’d listened in to their soundcheck and had to leave halfway through. Hudson’s voice just did things to me that I couldn’t handle since our argument.

“Last outfit checks, please!” Charlotte answered when I’d been too busy not looking at Hudson. As they gathered, she chattered excitedly. “Ally, after this, your name will be everywhere. Your designs are incredible. Isn’t this amazing? The first show of the tour! And they all look kick-ass.”

“Thank you,” I said quietly as the men huddled around us. I was confident in what I did but I was nervous in case any wardrobe malfunctions happened. While the band sported ripped clothes, I didn’t want to see any that wasn’t planned.

Finally, the men walked out. Their in-ear microphones were fitted, and as Hudson adjusted his, I couldn’t help but look at him. I quickly turned away before he could find me with his gaze. God, I was behaving like a teenager. Hudson's gaze was intense, lost in the focus of the gig ahead. He always did lapse into his own world during these moments.

“Pins?” I asked Charlotte. She held up a pin cushion strapped to her wrist.

“Josie, I need to fix your collar,” I muttered, my fingers working fast and quick. My knuckles brushed his neck as I adjusted the corner of his shirt. He smiled down at me, his hair half pulled up into a tie. A white bandana was tied around his hairline. A smudge of makeup darkened his eyes as he watched me work.

Skipper was next. “I think my zip is faulty,” he complained. I fussed over the zip on his sleeveless leather jacket. “Not that zipper, love.”

I scowled at him and pushed him away. Professional, I reminded myself. I checked over buttons, zips, pleats, and for any tears in the fabric and gave him a thumbs-up. The two of them walked on to the sound of screams from the crowd.

I watched as Skipper did some spinning trick with his drumsticks before giving a playful beat.

Hudson was last up for his final checks. My eyes flicked over him, my mind blank, focusing only on the clothing. He was in a see-through black shirt that was artfully cut off at the sleeves. I had considered his preference to show off his inked skin. I had tried to incorporate all of their personalities into their respective outfits.

“This isn’t falling right,” I muttered almost to myself as I fixed the edge of his shirt. I pinned it, focused on my work, not realizing how close we were until I glanced up. His eyes were on me, and I held his gaze for a minute, my fingertips trailing over his shoulder.

“Fixed?” he asked, almost sounding bored.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He shrugged me off and walked on stage, picking up the guitar that was waiting for him. Hudson adjusted the mic stand, sparing me one last look before he addressed the crowd. I tried not to feel dismissed... like I was nothing. After all, I was the one who told him we needed to be professional.

“Washington,” he yelled. “What's up? We’re kicking off our world tour here in this gorgeous state.” He rolled the vowels around his accent, knowing it drove the crowd crazy. “We are The Heart Surgeons, and you are a wonderful crowd. Let’s hear some noise for our first show of the tour, yeah? This one is ‘Asleep in the City’. I wrote this a long time ago, when I was far away from everything I knew, and I just kind of stumbled around aimlessly, wondering where to go. Sometimes, you gotta just sleep on some problems, right? Let’s hear you!”

The crowd screamed as Skipper counted them in. Although the song’s lyrics were beautiful and actually held a lot of depth, the pounding bass and thrashing drum carried a heavier sound that Hudson sang to. He came alive on stage, hands cupping the microphone when he wasn’t playing his guitar, leaning into the audience, and singing his heart out. His eyes closed on the bridge as his voice rang out, suspending the crowd in his thrall. Skipper was a maniac on the drums, grinning as he bopped to the rhythm, keeping them all in time. Josie was lost in his own world, dancing around the stage, delivering the perfect backing vocals for Hudson as he came close to sing into the same microphone.

The crowd went crazy for the men as they huddled together, performed, and joked among themselves on stage in between songs. When Hudson slowed it right down for a ballad, I was reminded of the first time I saw him…

It was a rainy day in London. Friday evenings were the worst sometimes. Interning was tiring and the weeks were long. I passed by Camden Market, trying to figure out how to de-stress before heading back to my apartment only a few blocks away. Sometimes, the apartment was too cramped with sketches and designs, and while I was following my dream, I recognized when I needed a break.

I walked past a bar called Green Note, hearing a voice coming through from the open door. Inside, it wasn’t too packed, and a few stools were available alongside the bars on either wall that faced the red-lit stage. A man was on stage, in his early twenties. As soon as my eyes landed on him, I felt drawn to go inside and take up a stool. Bundled up from the London rain, I went inside and ordered a drink for myself, and settled in for the set. I wasn’t a live music sort of person but I enjoyed the occasional concert now and then. As an intern, I had aspirations to dress performers, so I took it as exposure to the scene I wanted to be in while giving myself a break.

The man on stage had a deep, rich voice, as he strummed an acoustic guitar and crooned into a microphone. He perched on a stool, one leg kicked out in front of him. He wore a loose-fitted white shirt that exposed smooth skin beneath and tattoos running up and down his arm. His black hair fell to his shoulders, tucked behind his ears.

“I’m trying to find a new direction, thought about finding another life, but I wear the key around my neck to remind myself of where I’ll always come from,” he sang into the microphone. Even with his eyes closed, emotion was etched on his face as he poured everything into his song. I watched, enraptured, and when he finished and the bar applauded politely, he opened his eyes. They found me, brown eyes into my blue ones, and he smiled.

“Thank you for listening tonight, ladies and gents. I’ll be here every Friday and Wednesday, if anyone fancies catching me again next week. Reminder, though, I’ll be trying out some new material next time, so do bear with me if you show up. Enjoy your evening, folks.”

Half disappointed I missed his full set but half nervous thinking about approaching him, I watched him get up from the stage and order a drink as the next person took up his spot. From the bar, his eyes found me. I sipped my drink, pretending I didn’t notice the attention until he sidled up to me.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked.

“Nope, go for it.”

“Oh, you’re a bit far from home, aren’t you?” he laughed. “Cute accent. It’s not quite New York but not as far south as Texas. Somewhere in the middle?”

“South Dakota,” I told him. “But I can tell you’re from these neck of the woods.”

“I am.” He sat next to me, and I could smell the cologne on him, rich and intoxicating. “London, born and raised.”

“So where’s this new life you’re looking for?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Honestly? I don’t know. But I know I don’t want to be some twenty-two-year-old strumming his guitar to a very empty bar forever. I’ll find a band some day.”

Then he held out a hand for me to shake. “Hudson Delphie.”

“Ally Casey,” I told him.

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

We stayed locking gazes for a minute. Then he quirked a smile at me. “How new are you to London then?” Before I could answer, he went on. “Because I’m free all weekend.”

And that had been the start of mine and Hudson’s intense but short-lived relationship. We’d spent all weekend together, practically glued at the hip, and when work had rolled around for me on Monday, he’d stayed in my apartment and when I’d come home, he’d cooked dinner for me. I hadn’t quite remembered him leaving a whole lot after that.

It had all been amazing, a perfect life.

Until it had crashed down on us in a rain of ambitious clashing and dreams we wanted to chase without getting in the way of each other.

It had been so long since I’d watched Hudson perform. Doing so now brought back a whole wave of memories and feelings I wasn’t ready to feel. I’d buried them so well.

“I’m going to prepare the costume change,” I told Charlotte, just as the half-time interval approached. As I turned my back on Hudson, I reminded myself that I was there for the band. I was there to prove myself. To get my name into the business on my own terms, with my new line being prepared for launch after the tour.

But I’d underestimated how hard it would be to watch Hudson if only the first half of a show had me wading through nostalgia. I couldn’t ignore how difficult the next few months might be.

{1

ALLY

The next day, we were all called for a late afternoon meeting. Alex, The Heart Surgeons’ tour manager, had rented out a hotel conference room to give us somewhere to spread out and then texted us all to gather. Honestly, I didn’t want to be in the room with Hudson more than necessary.

For the sake of my career, I was withstanding being close enough to style him. However, I flagged down Charlotte, who was scrolling through a catalog of old Vogue catwalks, and pulled her to the meeting with me.

Alex Highland was a burly man with a mean-looking expression. He had been strict with the men so far but loosened up enough to joke around with them after the end of last night’s show. It was interesting to see how much ease each of the men had around new people. Networking had never been my strongest suit; I’d always preferred to squirrel away in my studio and work rather than find connections, as necessary as it was. Charlotte was up to the task of doing that but I despised it.

But then again, Hudson had always been able to strike up a conversation with anyone. I had once joked that he could chat up a cat given the chance. Sure enough, he’d tested the theory on a stray cat and had it eating out of his hand within five minutes while it had hissed at me.

Alex folded his thick arms over his chest and adjusted the cowboy hat he wore despite being in Washington. He was from Texas and was eager to get on the road to his home state. “Right, where’s Skipper?”

Josie snorted. “Hangover.”

“Great.”

“It’s our first world tour, let us celebrate a little, yeah?” Hudson countered.

“Celebrate away, man, but be present for meetings when your manager is trying to arrange said tour.”

Josie whistled. “Burn.”

Hudson flipped him off. Minutes later, Skipper stumbled in, his face screwed up and his skin pale. Still, he flashed a grin. “Miss me?”

Alex glared at him as Josie laughed aloud. I sniggered under my breath, turning my focus back to my tablet. The tour manager launched into a plan for the next stop. I tuned in long enough to know when we’d leave and when we’d arrive at the next state. Then I let myself zone out to open Procreate on my iPad. I had a half-finished sketch of an elaborate shirt and pantsuit that was an all-in-one. I tried not to imagine one of the men in it. It had mesh panels cut into the waist with a deep, open back. I didn’t think any of The Heart Surgeons would wear it but I humored myself.

After styling them, I had felt enough of each of their impressive physiques. I could picture the back muscles that would be on display, how the sleeves would emphasize biceps, and the material would give seductive glimpses of the skin beneath while remaining eye-catching in itself as a garment.

Josie sat next to me, with Charlotte in front of me. He shuffled his chair closer. His voice pitched lower as Alex talked mostly with Hudson. Charlotte was making notes, and I honestly loved her for the attentiveness. At least if I missed anything, she would have hopefully picked it up.

“What’re you working on?” Josie asked me.

I glanced at Alex, who was casting an assessing eye over the room. I ducked my head.

“Aren’t you supposed to be taking notice of this meeting?” I whispered.

He shrugged. “That’s Hudson’s job. I don’t think Skipper’s listening much, either.” He gestured to where the drummer had his cap pulled low over his eyes, shielding the fact that they were closed. I shook my head, giggling. Josie shot me a kind smile as he zoomed in on my sketch.

“This is amazing,” he said. “Is this for us?”

“It’s for… Anyone, I guess. Sometimes I design for people specifically, like I’ll have a singer or something in mind. Other times, it’s generalized.”

“Is it for Hudson?” he asked, giving me a soft, knowing look.

“Why’d you think that?”

“Remember the launch party? Skipper and I aren’t blind.” He laughed. “You both looked like rebels being caught.”

“Ah, there’s… A whole thing there. I’d rather not go into it.” I forced myself not to look in Hudson’s direction. I wondered if either Josie or Skipper had asked him about finding us in the closet that day. It was slightly mortifying to know they had actually caught onto us.

“Fair enough. I like this, though.” He dragged a hand down the screen and cursed quietly when the pen tool was still selected, and he had run a white line through the pants part of the sketch. “Shit, sorry.”

“No harm done. See?” I undid the line and giggled. Alex looked over at us again and I stifled my laughter. “Would you wear this? Honestly?”

“I don’t know if I would for a concert but for a party or press release, that sort of thing. Something proper, you know? Where I could show off.” He was as eloquently spoken as Hudson but he put a deeper, falser voice on. “Oh, this? Yeah, it’s an Ally Grace original.”

They were the words I’d longed to hear ever since I’d been a little girl and rooted through my mother’s wardrobe to find dresses and learned what different types of fabric felt like. I grinned.

“Besides, if you alter it, it can go a bit lower here.” Cheekily, he tapped the part where the low back curved around the tailbone. When I looked up, he winked playfully and we giggled together before shushing each other. I was trying to be professional. “Did you know I have a full back tattoo? This would show it off pretty damn good.”

Before I could picture that, we were snapped at. “Do you two mind?” Alex called. “Sorry to take up such precious time. It’s not like we’re trying to work through a world tour or anything.”

“Yes, Sir, sorry Sir,” Josie said sarcastically. “Won’t happen again, Sir.”

Alex muttered to himself, but I was pretty sure he'd just called Josie an asshole. Josie muffled more laughter behind his palm after the tour manager turned back to Hudson, whose eyes had landed on me. I ignored him pointedly.

It was Josie who pulled a face as if to say oops, we got caught, that I properly looked at him. So far, I’d spent enough time with him while planning looks for the gigs, trying to get ahead of myself but I’d never truly looked at him. He was handsome, less severe than Hudson, but not as cat-eyed and mischievous looking as Skipper. His long hair was pulled back into a messy bun and he wore a comfortable hoodie. Unlike the others, he had no visible tattoos, but he did have a septum piercing that he kept adjusting. He had a scar through one brow, as if he'd pierced it once and let it heal over. His eyes were a muted sort of blue, not overwhelmingly bright but alluring. My heart fluttered the longer I looked at him, so I broke the gaze.

He cleared his throat and shifted. “Got any more designs you’re working on?”

“Yeah, actually. You’re actually interested?”

“Hell yeah.”

Feeling confident in myself, I got my portfolio up that were works in progress that nobody, not even Charlotte, had seen. These were totally off-the-record, away from styling the men. Gowns of glittering velvet, vests of silk, playsuits that had hidden pockets but were skin-tight. Josie scrolled through as much as he could before Alex called time on the meeting.

“All right, you bunch of losers, go stimulate your short attention spans before I lose my temper,” he said, dismissing us. “It’s not like I’m trying to organize your lives for the next couple of months!”

“Cheers, Alex,” Skipper called, throwing a sarcastic thumbs-up. I sniggered. When Alex left the room with Hudson, who followed him-asking more questions, ever the focused leader-Skipper walked to the back of mine and Josie’s chairs. “Right then. This particular loser is hanging to all hell. How about we venture down the road to that place we found online last night, Josie? The best cure for hangovers is another drink, don’t you know?”

“Yeah, man, I’m down.”

“Great. Ally? Charlotte? Do you two lovely ladies want to join us?”

Bars weren’t really my scene, and I had work to do. “Oh, thanks, but-”

“We’d love to!” Charlotte piped up. I cringed at her excitement as I tried to shoot her a glare to say please stop! But she was quickly packing up her bag, announcing that she was ready. Charlotte was a great assistant but, damn, she could not read a room whatsoever. I yearned to say no still, so I could go hole up in my own space, plug in my earphones and keep sketching, but it would be rude at this point.

Sighing, I stood and packed my iPad away. “Sure. Let’s go.”

{1

ALLY

Skipper led the way to a bar called Madam’s Organ, a dimly-lit, intimate joint. Before I could ask if Hudson would be joining us, Skipper told us that Hudson would come through later. I saw Josie text Hudson where we were, perhaps knowing Skipper wouldn’t.

My heart clenched. I didn’t want to spend the night waiting for Hudson to show, so I resigned myself to staying focused on the men I was with. It was good for me to get to know all of the band equally, not just favor Hudson because of my history with him.

Skipper sauntered up to the bar inside and waved down at the bartender. She came over after checking the men out. “Don’t I know you guys from somewhere?” she asked.

“Maybe,” Skipper drawled. “We were playing at The Anthem last night. You may have heard of our band, The Heart Surgeons?”

“Wait, oh my God, are you guys that British band? You’re touring the US at the moment, right?”

“Hell yes. We kicked off the tour last night.”

“Oh, man, that’s awesome. Well, I hope it’s an awesome tour. First round of drinks on the house, guys.”

“Does that include drinks for our lovely stylists, too?” Skipper asked, gesturing to Charlotte and me. I went to protest, but the bartender nodded enthusiastically.

“Sure. Go ahead.”

“Beers all ‘round then for now?” Skipper asked. We all agreed, and Skipper grabbed the tray of drinks.

Josie walked close to me. “Do you fancy a game of pool?”

“I don’t think I’ve played in years,” I answered, eyeing the pool table at the back of the bar. Skipper was already heading over there. Charlotte had asked a couple of the tour crew to join us, and they were gathered in their own corner of the bar. “Show me?” I asked Josie.

Skipper slipped past Josie to set the tray down on the side, claiming one beer and handing me another. He had taken off his cap and the low lighting caught the green of his eyes. They were truly piercing. He rolled his labret piercing as he set up the pool table. I noticed Josie watching him, something dark in his gaze. I blinked and it was gone, and Josie was smiling at me. My gaze slid back to Skipper.

I tensed when they beckoned me over to break the balls. I glanced at Charlotte, who was perched on the lap of one of the stagehands. His hands snuck up the back of her shirt. I needed to relax. Charlotte was chilled, Josie and Skipper were trying to make this fun, and Hudson wasn’t here. I needed to let go and just let myself enjoy this. I didn’t have to work around the clock.

I turned my focus away from Charlotte and approached the pool table. Josie handed me a pool cue.

“Give it your best shot. Loser buys the next round,” Skipper announced. I leaned over the pool table, self-conscious. The pale pink cargo pants I wore, paired with a cropped t-shirt, didn’t feel like it covered enough in this position. And yet, I found myself wanting to be looked at.

I glanced up, finding Josie’s eyes on me as he grinned. “Go for it.”

So I did. I whacked the cue into the balls and broke them. For me, it was impressive. One ball rolled into the net, and Skipper cheered. “Nice! Okay, Josie and Ally, you guys can be one team versus me.”

I glanced at Josie questioningly. “Skipper’s been the champion of pool since I’ve known him. Which has been about… What, three years now?”

“Yup,” Skipper said, popping the p. “My dad owned a bar, so when my mum was touring, I’d stay with him. He lived above it... there were some nights where he’d let me stay up and we’d play for hours. It got more fun when I turned eighteen, and he let me drink. Poor sod didn’t know I’d been drinking long before that, obviously.”

“Damn, I forget you guys can drink earlier than us in the US.” I laughed. “So where was he based?”

“My dad? He had a bar in Camden. But when I turned twenty, he sold up, settled down with his second wife, and moved to a cushy three-story house in Surrey.” He stopped, realizing I didn’t know where that was. “Surrey is more countryside, I suppose. It’s quieter than London, at least.”

“Right,” I said. “What does your mom think of her son being the drummer of a band?”

Skipper laughed as he potted a ball. “She gets endless laughter from it. Imagine, the child of an opera singer and a bar manager becoming part of an indie band? The stories at Christmas are pretty cool, though.”

“Yeah, that’s because your mum and dad both bring their new partners and then act like best friends,” Josie chimed in. When I glanced at him questioningly, he took his turn and explained. “I’ve spent the last three Christmases at Skipper’s mum’s house. My mother is… Well, she has it in her head that if I’m in a band, then I should be able to provide for myself. And I can but…” He frowned. “Let’s just say she’s not the most fun to be around on the holidays.”

“Shit,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not a big deal. Besides, I get to see Skipper drink his dad under the table. Your turn, Ally.”

I realized Skipper had potted two more balls since I’d been listening to them.

“We actually went to the same uni,” Skipper said. “We didn’t realize at the time but we met at a gig and only realized we were in the same year the week after we graduated. Then, a year later, we came across this bar where this loner was crooning pitifully into a microphone.”

By his teasing grin, I knew he was talking about Hudson. Somehow, I managed to pot another ball, and the men cheered for me. Josie brushed past me, his hip bumping into mine, and I tried to ignore the excited flutter my body gave. When Skipper came over on my other side, I found it harder to breathe but focused on the next ball to pot even with both of their attention so close.

“So, we met Hudson at the Green Note, except it turned out to be his last gig there. He was going onto bigger and better and was supporting some new band at the academy arena. But that last gig he did at the bar, we sat in front of the stage, and on his second song, Skipper started tapping this beat on the table, and I hummed along. By the end of the night, we’d all found one common thing: we wanted to make music.”

“That’s how The Heart Surgeons started?”

“Oh, no. Hudson kind of fell off the radar for a year after that, going solo. He wanted to try and make it alone. A year later, he messaged Skipper and asked if he was still thinking about drumming for a band. It was me who proposed the band itself though. We spent the next year and a half practicing in Hudson’s apartment in London, and then we started gigging as The Heart Surgeons.” Josie had his chin propped on his fist as he told me their story. I didn’t actually know that.

When I Googled them, the only information I got was the band’s debut single that came out two and a half years ago after Hudson Delphie had been scouted from the local music scene but not the full history.

After I took my turn and missed another pot, Skipper took his turn, and then I handed the cue to Josie. As I made my way through my beer, I watched them together. They had an ease and fluidity to how they moved around each other. Hands kept reaching out when they crossed each other, and I wondered at the comfort they had. Then again, they’d toured once before across the UK. I knew that from the internet.

If they had spent so much time in close confines with one another, there would be a level of comfort between them.

“How about you? How did you come to be our stylist?” Josie leaned against the pool table and reached over me to grab his own drink. The way they talked to me helped me relax. The constant flow of questions and stories loosened me up bit by bit. I felt the beer working through me as well. My uptight nature started to slip away a little more. In her corner, Charlotte was thoroughly involved with the stagehand. I was half expecting them to disappear off somewhere any minute.

I turned back to Skipper and Josie, the two of them watching me with interested expressions.

“An amazing agent, I guess,” I told them. “I actually interned in London a few years ago. I went to the Green Note often. I probably crossed you guys at one point without knowing.”

Skipper snorted. “Oh, you should have seen Josie years ago. Not a pretty sight with that one.”

“Hey, asshole,” Josie complained. When he looked at me, he giggled. “I had a perm and short hair. But it wasn’t like Hudson’s. It just… It was pretty bad, actually. I looked like some 70’s wannabe rockstar.”

“I dyed it ginger one year and said he should dress up as Annie for Halloween,” Skipper chimed in. When Josie turned around to take his shot, his shirt rode up and I saw the curve of ink. He’d mentioned the back tattoo. My cheeks flushed warm, and I averted my gaze to find Skipper watching me. He only smirked and pretended not to notice.

“Drink up... game’s almost over and it looks like drinks are on you and Josie.”

Except the beer was loosening me up incredibly and when I next took my shot, I potted another ball, and then another. I squealed, and, when Josie urged me on for the next go, I aimed and potted my third one in a row. That left us with only one ball remaining.

“Yes, Ally, you got this!” Josie cheered.

Skipper kept trying to distract me by shoving right up to me, or coughing loudly as I took my aim, and I was laughing through it all, but aimed true one last time. The last ball rolled into the net, and I cheered for myself. Skipper let out a whoop, and Josie came over to take the cue. Not thinking, I jumped into his arms.

It hit me how impulsive that was only when he wrapped me up in a firm hold. I blushed furiously as Skipper erupted into loud laughter. Josie kept me there until I pushed at his arm, still giggling a little. But as I slid out of his arms, my eye was caught by someone walking in through the door and rounding his way towards the pool table.

Hudson watched Josie and me, his expression unreadable.

{1

HUDSON

As I walked into Madam’s Organ, where Josie had texted me the address, I wished I had never come. After Alex’s grilling meeting, all I’d wanted to do was sleep off the concert high and ignore my tumultuous thoughts over Ally and being around her so often. After five years, I didn’t think I’d see her again. The day she’d told me to leave when we lived together in London, I thought that was it.

Five years apart, and yet I’d had sex with her in a coat closet and gone on tour with her as my band’s stylist. And now she was in the arms of my bandmate. Her eyes locked on mine as she slid free of Josie’s grip.

I’d tried to refuse to come out, but then Skipper had texted me half an hour ago that Ally had gone with them, and I couldn’t excuse going any longer. No matter how indifferent I wanted to appear around her after our small argument in the closet, I needed to be around her.

She was right; we needed to be professional and put space between us. I’d been angry and vulnerable after what we’d done at the launch party. And now she was being so professional, mingling and getting to know my bandmates.

My heart constricted at her blush, knowing it was there because I’d seen her with Josie. I tried to keep the rising anger in check.

I put on my best poker face and strolled over to the pool table. “Josie, get the next round in, mate?”

“But I didn’t lose,” he complained. “Skip lost.”

“Please-”

“On it,” he muttered. He glanced back at Ally. I could only relax once he came back. I took a deep drag of the beer he brought back. Busying herself, Ally was suddenly interested in her drink too. She looked gorgeous in pink cargo pants and a cropped t-shirt. I could only imagine how it might ride up when she took her go during pool. I pushed thoughts of her body out of my mind, remembering it a lot more clearly than I’d have liked to, thanks to our hookup the other day. A moment of weakness, I assured myself. That was all it had been. A mistake for her and a weakness for me.

When Josie returned, I leaned against the pool table, folding my arms over my chest. “I’m playing the winner.” My eyes landed on Ally. I don’t know what it was about the new black hair dye, the sneaky layer beneath the blonde that I’d always known, but it kept getting my attention. “Which I assume was you.” I smirked at her. “But you won’t be the winner any longer. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Ohh, competition!” Skipper called. “How do you know you’ll win for sure? She’s damn good at this.”

“Where do you think she got her skills from?” I responded smoothly. “I taught her all she knows.”

There was a small chorus of ooh’s that Ally laughed at. With all the confidence I knew she had, she picked up the cue from Josie, while I grabbed Skipper’s, and she kept her eyes on me as she set up the table. Josie and Skipper hung out in the corner of the table, steadily sipping their beers. They always seemed so together, and I envied their casual ease with one another. As a unit, we worked as a band and friends, but there always seemed to be a duo in any group that always bonded better.

I looked at Ally as she leaned over to break. I was right about her t-shirt. I averted my gaze as I saw a hint of the band of her black bra. She whacked her cue into the triangle of balls and broke them pretty impressively.

“You still got the skills I taught you,” I complimented.

“Save your flattery,” she said. “You don’t get credit for this. I can learn things alone as well.”

I rolled my eyes. She was always so stubborn. I almost made a comment about it, referencing her in the past, but held back in front of Josie and Skipper. I hadn’t yet broached the topic of how much they knew about us, what they’d figured out, or if Ally, in her new pal time with them, had told them anything.