Page 90 of Play For Me

He shrugs. “I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to ask us because we were sitting there when Cade brought it up.”

“I didn’t feel like I had to ask you.”

He studies me for a moment before turning his attention back to the path in front of us. “It’s okay if you want it to be just a family thing.”

“Solomon, I want you to come.” He stays quiet, and I can tell that I haven’t done anything to assuage his doubts. I sigh. “I was a little hesitant about it because I didn’t want you to feel pressured,” I admit. “The venue’s going to be loud and crowded, and I know that’s not really your thing.”

He stiffens. “I can handle some people and noise, Cecelia.”

Shit. I’m doing this all wrong. I stop, placing a hand on his arm, and I hate that he looks around to make sure no one noticed the contact. I yank my hand back, stomach churning. “I know you can handle it,” I tell him. “I just wanted us to talk it through before I asked in front of Jay and my cousins. Give you the chance to think about it.”

His expression softens, but he still seems tense. “I appreciate that. But I really don’t think it will be a big deal.” I can’t tell if he really means it, or if he’s just being defensive. He hates it when people treat him like he’s needy—is that what I’m doing?

I glance around to make sure no one is watching us, then take a step closer. “I want you to be there, Sol. I always want you to be where I am.”

His expression softens fully, and his smile finally looks genuine. “Then I guess we have a date at your brother’s concert.”

It’s hard to remember what I was worried about in the first place when he looks at me like that. So I smile back and say, “I guess we do.”

TWENTY-THREE

SOLOMON

“Are you sure this was a good idea?” Em asks for about the tenth time since Jay and I told her about our plans.

Her brother groans from my kitchen—where he’s scrounging for snacks to steal from me before we leave for the concert, even though Cecelia assured us there would be catering back stage before the show.

“No one said you had to go!” Jay calls. “Stay home if you think it’s such a bad idea.”

But I can see Em looking at me out of the corner of her eye and I know she’s too worried about me and this entire situation to skip it. She doesn’t think I’ll be able to handle the night out.

The truth is, I’m not sure if I agree with her or not. Crowds and loud noises are not my favorite thing. And it doesn’t help that I’ve been forcing myself to deal with way more socialization than I’m used to over the last few weeks. I just haven’t wanted Cecelia to feel like she has to miss out on things because she’s sleeping with a loser who can’t keep his shit together.

My tolerance for this kind of thing usually follows a pretty specific pattern. If Jay drags me out to a party or a bar, I can handle it okay so long as I get plenty of time to decompress before he makes me do it again.

I haven’t been giving myself much time to decompress lately. And that’s usually when I have problems.

But I still can’t say that I would change anything. The last few weeks with Cecelia have been amazing. I get to see her every day, listen to her talk and see her laugh up close. I get to touch her whenever we want—so long as we’re not in public. But even then, she doesn’t seem to mind if I hold her hand under the table or something. I’m not sure if she realizes how much it calms me to be able to feel her warm skin against mine.

The voice in my head hasn’t gone away, not completely, but it is quieter now. It only warns me that I‘better enjoy this while it lasts because she’s definitely going to leave soon’a few times a day, instead of all the time.

I rub my forehead, tired of myself. I’m dating an amazing woman who wants to take me to do cool things, like see a popular band from the VIP section and hang out with them backstage. There’s literally nothing for me to be anxious about.

But that doesn’t stop my stomach from clenching with nerves when I get the text from Cecelia letting me know the cars are downstairs to pick us up.

“Sweet!” Jay says, abandoning his search for food to shoo us down the hall to the door. “I wonder if Cade convinced them to get the party bus.”

Instead, we find two sleek SUVs on the curb. Cecelia is just climbing out of one and she grins when she sees us, making my heart do that stuttering thing yet again. “I was going to come up and get you.”

“Jay was too excited to wait,” I say drily.

A window rolls down in the other SUV. “Hey, you guys!” Vega calls, sticking her head out and waving. A second head joins her in the window and I do a double-take. It’s another woman about our age, maybe a little older, and she looks almost exactly the same as Vega.

“That’s Vega’s sister, Santana,” Cecelia says, rolling her eyes. “She’s very excited to meet you.”

“Hi!” Vega’s sister calls. Then, in a stage whisper, “he’s even cuter than you said, V.”

Cecelia glares at them before turning back to us. “I guess I should apologize for my family right now, because God knows they’re only going to be more annoying as the night goes on.”