Let Me Love You

“Hey, do you come here often? Want to come up on stage?”

The lead singer’s voice was heavy and deep as it rumbled throughout the crowd. A tall, raven-haired girl in the front row accepted eagerly, passing off her purse to a friend. He pulled her up on stage, twirling her around in a circle as everyone admired how hot she was. I guess she is. She looks like she’s in love with herself, though.

“Now, go forth and mosh,” said a guitarist, getting the stagehands to toss her back into the crowd. It quickly swallowed her.

This must be part of his twisted game, I thought. I was at the bar with a drink in my hand when his band came on stage. I worked at an investigation firm researching cases all week. Our clients’ cases always had to be handled discreetly, and the fact that I couldn’t talk about my work was just another pain point. Coming here to drink on a Friday night was my only solace to get me through the week. I only gave half of my attention to the music, which was pretty usual for me. I loved live music, but my purpose every Friday night was to take a load off, not delve into some new experimental rock, metal, or screamo band. The grunge-punk-alternative scene was steady in this city, and I dabbled in it. Tonight was somehow different than every other night. This was a band I’d never seen before, although I had heard of them, and as much as I cared more about unwinding and sipping on my bourbon like it was sacred, my drink was getting low and the lead singer’s voice was lower. It was pure bass, shaking and echoing in my core, and it was almost as cathartic as my drink. Eventually, the band went offstage, and the lights got brighter as the stagehands got to work on setting up and sound-checking the next group. I sighed, tapping my lowball glass on the bar, waiting patiently for the bartender to acknowledge me. It was always like this during set changes—everyone rushed to the bar, and I was too shy to be demanding about my next beverage.

“This babe down here needs a drink, Jeff.”

I heard a deep voice next to me and looked down at my own empty glass, jealous for just one moment that some other girl with an empty glass like mine was lucky enough to have a guy with a deep voice to get someone’s attention for her. Maybe it’s the raven-haired front-row groupie. Everyone seems to think she’s the hottest bitch in this place.

“Hey, what can I get you, sweetheart? This place is packed tonight.”

It was the same voice, and he was probably talking to the same girl. I could have cared less, but I liked it. I enjoyed his voice and the way it thundered in my chest, in the pit of my stomach, everywhere—the way it electrified my whole body. There’s no way he’s good-looking, too. Impossible. I shook my head at myself, then turned my head to glance over in that direction anyway, just to be sure.

“What do you want?” he asked, making eye contact with me as his green eyes flashed in the dim lights around the bar.

“Oh, nothing. Sorry. Just awkwardly making eye contact with a stranger,” I laughed, embarrassed that he caught me looking at him.

“I thought you needed a drink. I saw you tapping your empty glass on the bar,” he said, reaching over to touch it. I moved my hand away quickly, allowing him to take my glass just before his fingers met mine. He held it up in the direction of the bartender. “Jeff,” he called, speaking up even louder this time. “She’ll have another.”

As if we were in some sort of Western movie hanging out at a saloon, he slid the glass to the end of the bar and Jeff caught it, grabbing a bottle of some local smoky bourbon and topping it off. He slid it carefully back down the length of the bar, and my mystery man caught it safely, placing it in my hands.

“Neat?”

“Yeah, rough week,” I said shyly.

“I always like it neat,” he admitted.

“Actually, me too, but I didn’t want to seem like a lush.”

“Are you calling me a lush?” he asked.

His tone edged on sarcastic, and I quickly caught on that he was teasing me. Or is it flirting?

“Yeah, I am, you fucking lush,” I laughed. He smirked at me, bearing perfect pearly whites. Well shit, he is really handsome.

“You from around here? I haven’t seen you before,” he said as he ordered a drink of his own. Jeff served him right away. It appeared he was a top priority.

“Red wine? So, you’re a classy lush. And no, I live just outside of the city. I like to bar-hop on Friday nights. You know, relax and unwind from the bullshit week I had.”

“Your man doesn’t take you out on Friday nights, pretty doll like you?” he asked.

“I’m hardly a doll, and no,” I said, failing to address the real question he appeared to be asking, which was whether I had a man.

“If it were me, I’d take you out every night.” I blushed in embarrassment as I sipped on my bourbon, holding it even closer to my chest for comfort. “—If you’d let me, doll,” he added, winking at me.

“I....”

“Don’t know what to say? Let’s start with your name. I’m Mitchell,” he said.

“You’re Mitch Madness? You’re in one of the bands, right?”

He nodded and chuckled, likely because I was the outsider at his show who had been absentmindedly listening to his music.

“And you are? Aside from stunning.”

I felt myself blush awkwardly, yet again, which seemed to be a recurring theme in his presence.

“I’m Nettie,” I said, extending my hand to him. I half expected him to shake it, as anyone would, but he took it in his hand, brought it up to his perfectly full lips, and planted a single kiss on top of it. I shivered internally, electricity coursing through my veins as his lips met my skin for the first time. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mitch,” I said, sounding entirely too formal. He can’t make some sexy line out of that.

“Nettie, the pleasure’s all mine, babe. Trust me on that.” Well, fuck. Yes, he can. “So, you had a long week, and you’re here drinking by yourself. What would it take to make things better?” he persisted.

“Well, I’d say that right around this time of night, things start to look a lot less miserable, the further away it gets from my office hours.”

“My office hours are ending in the next fifteen minutes. Can I take you out for a coffee?” he asked.

“Coffee? This late?” I laughed, stowing my hands away in my bomber jacket as I nervously thought about his lips touching my skin again.

“You’re a night owl, am I right?”

“You’re right. But I only drink coffee in the morning, believe it or not,” I shrugged. That’s not the fucking point. Let him take you out so you can fawn over him for the rest of the night. “You could always take me out for a drink, though.”

“Perfect. We can grab drinks tonight and coffee in the morning.”

“Wow, you are aggressively confident,” I chuckled. “Does that actually work on women?”

“You tell me, babe.” I thought about it for a moment as I bit my lip and looked up at the ceiling. “Tell you what—you think about it, and I’ll meet you back here in ten. I have to help the guys load up the van.”

He smiled at me with those juicy, green eyes and disappeared into the crowd. As the speakers kicked on with loud music that I was sure they’d be playing until closing time, I decided I’d had enough noise for one night. I flagged down Jeff relatively quickly now that the crowd had died down.

“I’m ready to close out my tab,” I said.

“You’re all set. Mitch covered you,” he said, waving me off and wishing me a good night.

I left him a tip on the bar and walked out the back door. It was very apparent to me that the back door was some unspoken haven for band people, not laypeople like me. I probably looked cool as I leaned up against the cold, brick wall, exhaling and watching my breath form a steamy display in the oaky October air. I watched as people shuffled in and out of the double doors, carrying band equipment and loading it up in their vehicles.

“Remember the part where I said I’d meet you back at the bar in ten?” he asked, approaching me and leaning against the wall to face me.

“I do. I guess I was feeling rebellious and disobedient,” I joked, looking straight ahead into the night air, a playful grin gathering on my lips.

“I might have to teach you a lesson for that, doll.” Heat rose to my cheeks as I felt him studying my face now, his smile and lips forming into a devious smirk. Those juicy, plump, perfect lips. Fuck. I could just rip them right off. I needed to calm myself down. “So, are you ready?” he asked.

“For you to teach me a lesson?”

“For me to take you out,” he corrected me.

“Yes,” I said nervously, pulling my hands out of my pockets. I pulled out my phone to send a quick message to my roommate and best friend, Sara.

Nettie: I’m going out with this guy tonight. He’s the lead singer and bassist for All Senses Abandoned. If I go missing, there’s your first lead.

Sare: Don’t die. Also, guy in a band? Sounds hotttt.

I expected that to be the last I’d hear from her until I received another text with multiple flame emojis. And she wasn’t wrong. He was hot. I followed Mitch to his car, wondering where the night would lead us. I didn’t ask where we were going, I just let him drive. We pulled up to an apartment complex on the other side of the city.

“I thought you were going to take me out?” I asked.

“I thought I was going to teach you a lesson?”