Suddenly the night just got a whole hellof a lot more interesting.
Leaning on the bar beside Adam, the guy turns his full attention onto Adam, right where it belongs. “I heard your song,” he says. He has a soft voice, mellow, that Adam has to lean forward to hear above the din of the crowd. In the lights of the bar, his hair is a tangle of blue-black curls, mussed and disheveled, falling effortlessly around his narrow face. Where the guy’s hand is tucked into the waistband of Adam’s jeans, Adam swears his skin burns. “You guys are pretty tight. Adam, right?”
Adam wants to ask how he knows but it’s part of the act, isn’t it? Telling the crowd who he is so they won’t forget. “Yeah.”