Following Me by Linde, K.A. (best books to read in your 20s .txt) 📗

really goingto use that.  Hadley had just slapped him across the face, and he was going toblame her behavior on PMS.  Yeah right!

It’s more likely the amount ofcocaine she is using, Devon thought.

“That sucks,” Devon said finally.

“Yeah, she really wanted tocome,” he repeated.

“I’m surprised you came out atall if she wasn’t feeling well,” Devon said accusingly.  Why wasn’t hechasing after her?  Why was he letting her go?  Wasn’t that what was supposedto happen?  She felt deluded about Garrett and Hadley’s relationship.  Shehad wanted so badly for it to be as perfect as it looked from the outside.

“She told me to go.  After all, Icouldn’t do anything for her,” Garrett said. He leaned back into the chair, hisankle crossing over his knee.

“Of course,” Devon said, tryingto hold back the sarcasm from her voice.  “I sure hope she gets better soon.”

“Comes once a month.  I’m sureshe’ll be fine,” Garrett said over the applause from the last performer.

Devon rolled her eyes and lookedtoward the stage.  Garrett wasn’t going to give any clues as to what hadhappened between them.  She would have to ask him later, or maybe she wouldhave to ask Hadley.  Hadley had been the one who was pissed off, so she mightbe more likely to spill.  For all the confidence that Devon and Garrett hadbeen entrusting each other with, she wasn’t so sure he would tell her, butmaybe she would ask him about it again later anyway.

Her eyes focused in on Brennan ashe walked onto the stage, carrying an acoustic guitar.  Her body tensed as shestared down at him.  She could hear murmurs coming from the women in theaudience as he plugged in his guitar, adjusted the microphone, and sat down onthe chair.  Everyone was noticing what Devon had just realized moments ago.  Helooked great up there.  He had taken off the blue button-up that he had arrivedin, and now, he was just wearing a fitted green T-shirt with his dark jeans.

If she didn’t know him better,she would have thought he was completely comfortable up there.  But his handstwitched as he plucked at a chord, and she watched his lips move as he mutteredto himself.  He had an easy, lazy look to him that helped him appear morerelaxed than he was.  She wished she could do something to calm his nerves.

After Brennan finished hisadjustments, he leaned forward toward the microphone.  “Good evening.  I’mBrennan Walker.  A couple of you out there might have seen me up here before. I’m sure a few of you booed me off stage the first time I tried this.  Thanksfor coming back and giving me another shot.”

The crowd chuckled.  That wasa good sign.  Devon found herself rooting for him.

“For those of you who are new tothe open mic routine, you picked a damn good night to be in the house.  I’mplaying a selection of original tunes, and I hope you like them.  This firstone is titled ‘Headstrong.’”

Devon wasn’t sure what she hadbeen expecting, but whatever it was could never compare to this.  Sheknew music.  She had grown up around music, dated musicians, and listened toevery genre imaginable.  Her heart craved music.  And that was exactly what shewas getting tonight.

Brennan’s voice wasn’t the bestout there.  He wasn’t a master on the guitar.  He didn’t have the stagepresence of the artists she had encountered at home.  But he had a certainquality about him that seemed superior to all of that.  It was like when shehad tried to tease apart her feelings toward him, and all she had discoveredwas that she couldn’t.  That was what his music was like.  It was more anemotion than anything, like the way she felt when she got butterflies in herstomach, or when she rode a roller coaster, or when she caught the firstglimpse of the horizon across the ocean.  It was all and none of those things.

And maybe she was the only one inthe room feeling that.  But wasn’t that what made art so beautiful in thefirst place?  She could stand in one place and experience the same thing asa hundred other people, and everyone would come out of it with somethingdifferent.  She felt like she was soaring, and the world was flying beneath herfeet.  Brennan’s smooth voice was music to her ears, and music brought herhome.

When the song ended, Devonrealized her eyes were closed, and she slowly opened them.  As her visionadjusted to the dim lighting, she focused down on Brennan.

What are you doing to me?she wondered.

The crowd cheered, and Devonfollowed, clapping her hands hard.

“He’s good, right?” Garrettleaned over, so Devon could hear him.

“Yeah!  Wow!” she said, wearingthe biggest smile on her face since she had been in Chicago.

“You should have come to his lastperformance.  The audience gave him a standing ovation at the end.  I don’tknow what it is about the guy, but everyone goes nuts for his music.  Hadleyeven cried at the end of his last show, and he only played for like fifteenminutes,” Garrett told her.

“He’s good.  I should know,” shesaid with a laugh.  “I know music.”

“You should pitch him to thepeople you know,” Garrett suggested.

Devon wrinkled her nose.  “Idon’t know people, except for my parents.”

“I’m sure you can think ofsomeone,” Garrett prodded.  “His music made you smile brighter than you havesince you got here.  Anything that can put that pretty smile on your faceshould be playing on the radio.”

Devon blushed at his words. “Thanks,” she said, staring back down at Brennan.

She probably did know someone. Most of her contacts were with country music, and he clearly didn’t singcountry.  In any case, she could likely get him an in…if that was what hewanted.  It would be something worth thinking about…maybe.

Before she could think about itany further, he started the next song.  The next two were ones that Garrettknew from previous shows.  He told her that Brennan normally added a coupleoriginals in here and there among the covers he did.  Garrett had never been toa gig where Brennan did all originals.  Devon couldn’t imagine the show anyother way.  No one else’s music would have felt right.

As Brennan’s short set drew to aclose, Devon found