Sugar Rush Read Online Free
Author: Rachel Astor
semblance of cool .
When the set finished, Nick stole another peek through the curtains. The friend had gotten up from the table.
He’d been told he was a catch, and he played the part and everything, but deep down, the remnants of his chubby days in middle school sometimes haunted him.
He sucked in a breath and stretched his neck from side to side, pulling his shoulders back and trying to put on that face most women found charming. He took a step toward the table.
“Hey,” he said. “Do you mind if I sit with you? You’re, like, the only ones under the age of forty here.”
Great, make up lame excuses to be near her. Stellar opening.
The girl startled, blinking.
He kept the smirk plastered on, trying to ignore the prickles along his arms.
Finally, she nodded. “Um, sure.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I can’t get enough of the music, but I hate that I’m like a toddler at these places.”
She smiled, and Nick suddenly couldn’t think of a thing to say.
“Do you come here a lot?” he finally asked. Oh, wow. He cringed. Conversational genius.
She shook her head, like she was coming out of a daze. “Sorry,” she said, though Nick wasn’t sure what she apologized for. “Uh, once in a while, yeah.” She cleared her throat. “You?”
He shrugged. “Been here once or twice. First time playing, though.”
“You were amazing,” she said shyly.
“Thanks. I’m Nick, by the way,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Dulcie,” she said, her handshake a little tentative.
Everyone said a handshake told a lot about a person, but Nick had no idea what hers meant. Worse, he forgot to try to figure out what he said with his own.
The tension became a living thing, pulling and tugging. She leaned in closer to him, which he took as a good sign. The sounds of the club faded away as he leaned in, too.
She smelled like cinnamon and coffee, with a hint of vanilla, and he wanted to close his eyes and just breathe. At least he still had enough sense to realize that might appear rather batshit to a girl he just met, so he sat there, a smiling goof. “So…blues, eh?” he said.
She nodded. “I love it. It just takes all the stress away, you know?”
His heart sped up just a little. “Me, too. It’s like you can just let it take you away.”
“Exactly. So much other music is like panicky or something, makes me anxious.”
“I know,” Nick agreed, wondering where this woman had been all his life. None of the girls he’d dated in college had been even remotely interested in jazz. “The popular music never seems to talk about anything having to do with real life. It’s all malls and parties and trolling for girls.”
She laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think my co-workers would appreciate it if I blared that all day at work.”
“I play jazz at work, too,” he said.
A moment of silence fell over the table while Nick’s mind churned, dying to find something witty to say.
“Us poor working stiffs,” he finally said, then screamed at himself for being such an idiot. Silently, of course.
“Does your job make use of your musical interests?” he asked.
Dulcie took a sip of her drink. “Unfortunately, no,” she said, “but it’s a family business, so we can pretty much play anything we want.”
He beamed; they had so much in common. “Mine, too.”
Her face lit up almost as much as his.
It was dumb, of course, to imagine a cosmic connection between them, especially since he’d never believed in that sort of thing, but this was the most head over heels he’d ever fallen in such a short time.
They sat for a few seconds, bathing in the tension, moving another inch closer, when he spotted something, his eyes flickering over her chair, then widening.
The logo on her jacket.
No .
“Candy Land Confections? That ’s your family business?” he asked, leaning back, his voice higher than he would have liked.
“Uh, yeah, sort of,” she said, shifting in her seat. “Why?”
No. It couldn’t
When the set finished, Nick stole another peek through the curtains. The friend had gotten up from the table.
He’d been told he was a catch, and he played the part and everything, but deep down, the remnants of his chubby days in middle school sometimes haunted him.
He sucked in a breath and stretched his neck from side to side, pulling his shoulders back and trying to put on that face most women found charming. He took a step toward the table.
“Hey,” he said. “Do you mind if I sit with you? You’re, like, the only ones under the age of forty here.”
Great, make up lame excuses to be near her. Stellar opening.
The girl startled, blinking.
He kept the smirk plastered on, trying to ignore the prickles along his arms.
Finally, she nodded. “Um, sure.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I can’t get enough of the music, but I hate that I’m like a toddler at these places.”
She smiled, and Nick suddenly couldn’t think of a thing to say.
“Do you come here a lot?” he finally asked. Oh, wow. He cringed. Conversational genius.
She shook her head, like she was coming out of a daze. “Sorry,” she said, though Nick wasn’t sure what she apologized for. “Uh, once in a while, yeah.” She cleared her throat. “You?”
He shrugged. “Been here once or twice. First time playing, though.”
“You were amazing,” she said shyly.
“Thanks. I’m Nick, by the way,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Dulcie,” she said, her handshake a little tentative.
Everyone said a handshake told a lot about a person, but Nick had no idea what hers meant. Worse, he forgot to try to figure out what he said with his own.
The tension became a living thing, pulling and tugging. She leaned in closer to him, which he took as a good sign. The sounds of the club faded away as he leaned in, too.
She smelled like cinnamon and coffee, with a hint of vanilla, and he wanted to close his eyes and just breathe. At least he still had enough sense to realize that might appear rather batshit to a girl he just met, so he sat there, a smiling goof. “So…blues, eh?” he said.
She nodded. “I love it. It just takes all the stress away, you know?”
His heart sped up just a little. “Me, too. It’s like you can just let it take you away.”
“Exactly. So much other music is like panicky or something, makes me anxious.”
“I know,” Nick agreed, wondering where this woman had been all his life. None of the girls he’d dated in college had been even remotely interested in jazz. “The popular music never seems to talk about anything having to do with real life. It’s all malls and parties and trolling for girls.”
She laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think my co-workers would appreciate it if I blared that all day at work.”
“I play jazz at work, too,” he said.
A moment of silence fell over the table while Nick’s mind churned, dying to find something witty to say.
“Us poor working stiffs,” he finally said, then screamed at himself for being such an idiot. Silently, of course.
“Does your job make use of your musical interests?” he asked.
Dulcie took a sip of her drink. “Unfortunately, no,” she said, “but it’s a family business, so we can pretty much play anything we want.”
He beamed; they had so much in common. “Mine, too.”
Her face lit up almost as much as his.
It was dumb, of course, to imagine a cosmic connection between them, especially since he’d never believed in that sort of thing, but this was the most head over heels he’d ever fallen in such a short time.
They sat for a few seconds, bathing in the tension, moving another inch closer, when he spotted something, his eyes flickering over her chair, then widening.
The logo on her jacket.
No .
“Candy Land Confections? That ’s your family business?” he asked, leaning back, his voice higher than he would have liked.
“Uh, yeah, sort of,” she said, shifting in her seat. “Why?”
No. It couldn’t