Page 76 of The Offer

She plopped her own bag on her bed, rummaging through her goodies, that giddiness bubbling up in her chest again. “I have so many options now. This is awesome.”

“Your ass deserves to be in those jeans tonight.”

“Which ones? I found four pairs.”

His head dipped, his pupils dilated. “You know which ones.”

She smirked, pulling them from the bag. “Pizza sounds great. Give me five minutes to get changed.”

Jess kept close at Kevin’s heels as they walked up to a crowded dive bar, booming music flooding through the open floor-to-ceiling windows. Patrons poured out the bar holding plastic cups of foamy beer.

After a bouncer checked her ID and stamped her hand, Kevin snatched it and pulled her in, keeping his grip firm as they snaked their way through the crowd and close to the stage. He didn’t let the small clusters of people stop him as he pushed his way forward until they made it to the front, then pulled her to the stage and stood behind her, like a guard.

“We don’t have to be in the front, you know,” she teased. “I wasn’t even expecting to see the stage.”

“Oh trust me, we need to be in the front,” he quipped. “Is the vibe good? Floor sticky enough for you?”

She lifted her new chunky sandals, delicate straps buckled around her ankles. It was certainly sticky, and it made her grin. “Vibes are immaculate.”

The lights dimmed and the crowd screamed. Jess cheered along with them, even though she had no idea who was about to hop on stage. When the band stepped up the screaming grew louder, her ears ringing and popping from the sound. But when she saw the singer with hot-pink hair approach the microphone, everything in her vision felt like it slowed, the cheering and the screeching from the amps dulling.

“Kevin…”

The singer with hot-pink hair snatched the microphone. “NEW YORK, MAKE SOME NOISE!”

More screaming. Jess watched in awe as the bassist fiddled with the amp, the drummer trilled the bass pedal, and the guitarist held up rock signs to the crowd.

“We’re Definitely Maybe, and you’re going to need a drink in your hand for this one.”

The guitar started to tick as the lead singer unhooked the microphone from the stand and began to sing. The bass dropped, the drums cracked, and the band rolled into the first chorus of “You + Me.” Jess didn’t stop the tears that flowed down her cheeks as she watched her favorite band perform live. She turned to face Kevin behind her, his eyes on the band, his arms in the air.

He was singing along. He knew every single word.

The band rolled through all of her favorite songs, and she sang along without abandon, not caring if her ears would be ringing for days after standing so close to the speaker, or if her voice was hoarse from singing the lyrics she knew so well—the songs that’d brought her back to life. Full of hope for people like her; who felt dark, lonely, anxious, disappointed, abandoned. The entire moment was magical, and she never wanted it to end.

After the band thanked the audience and promised one more song with a wink from the singer, they rolled into the one that the entire crowd seemed to know by heart. Fans jumped and threw arms in the air as the band tipped over into their final number for the evening.

A small mosh pit formed at the center of the bar, crushing fans aside as they pushed and danced. One fan lifted his hand in the air to protect the plastic cup of beer in his fist. But another shove had him stumbling back, his beer sloshing and tipping as he headed right for Jess.

Kevin jumped between them, shielding her in his arms, and hunched. Jess peered up and watched in horror as the entire beer slipped out of the fan’s hands, pouring over Kevin’s hair and pooling down his back. Her body tensed as she watched him wince at the cold liquid, but then he beamed, a wide full-mouth grin of delight, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Oh my god, man, I am so sorry,” the guy said, the plastic cup crushing beneath his sneaker as he stepped up to Kevin.

Kevin brushed his beer-soaked hair back and peeled an eye open, a smile still brushing his lips. “As long as you didn’t get any on my girl and her perfect jeans, you’re all good.”

Instead of feeling irritated like usual, Jess’s cheeks bloomed with pink at being called my girl. She took a step back, examining her jeans, her sandals, and her new white sleeveless bodysuit. Miraculously, she was dry. No splotches of beer in sight.

The guy exhaled in relief as the song petered out, the band wrapping up for the night. “Can I buy you both a drink to make up for it?”

“Dude, you lost your entire beer. I should buy you a drink,” Kevin joked.

“That’s ridiculous, no. What are you drinking?”

Kevin eyed Jess, brow cocked.

“Tequila soda with a lime, please,” she answered.

He smirked and looked over at the bar. “I’ll take something on tap. Mind if I go up there with you?”