Chapter 7: Love in a Bottle

Now, he was wearing holey and faded jeans and a white shirt left unbuttoned to reveal his well sculpted chest and a large tattoo that covered one side of his chest. I focused on it and guessed it had some tribal meaning. His hair wasn’t slicked back like it had been earlier. Instead, it hung to his chin and was in his face. He wore leather straps on one wrist and some kind of blue material wrapped around the other. He was even more handsome now and my heart raced at seeing him twice in one day. That had to be some sort of cosmic sign, not that I was into that sort of thing.

Still, I took a deep breath. I was engaged. More than that though, I made a promise to never to date a musician.

Another deep breath. Musicians tended to be dicks, not to mention narcissistic.

“I know him,” Birdy said, scooting to the edge of her chair so we could communicate over the music.