Make Me Stay Read Free Page A

bar.
    “Hold on one sec, I’ll help you with these,” my dad called to Kara. He turned back to me. “I’ll show you the rest of the place and your room in a minute. I’ve got to help Kara with this stuff,” he said, taking the other box to follow Kara.
    I stood there awkwardly by myself in the unfamiliar room. Light bounced off one of the symbols on the drum kit and caught my eye. I made my way to the stage and stepped up to get a better look. There was a name on the front of the biggest drum, ONS, all done in a cool calligraphy. Under that was the proper name One Night Stand. I guessed it was fitting, since they were playing at a bar called BJs and, apparently, you never left unsatisfied.
    I took my time walking around all the instruments. The drums were nice. Tapping a holder for extra sticks, I was so tempted to grab one and go to town, but I held back. The keyboard looked extremely used, but it had more buttons on it than keys. The black, slick, base was propped up on one side of the stage. A guitar was a few steps away from that, and it was a beautiful electric blue color. I walked over to the guitar on the other side of the stage. I seemed drawn to it. The glossy red paint was beckoning me toward it.
    I knelt down to get a closer look. Within the glossy red paint were very fine black words. They looked like song lyrics, but the closer I got, I realized that they were girls’ names. Appropriate, I thought, for a band named One Night Stand. The eight strings summoned me to run my fingers across them.
    My index finger was mere centimeters from the tightly strung wires--
    “You break it, you buy it.”
    A male voice, warm and very close, made me lose my balance. In a rush, I tried to stand, but fell back and into the arms of the man behind me.
    Hastily getting to my feet, I turned around to see the guy still flat on his ass. He pulled his knees up and rested his arms on them as he eyed me up and down
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to touch your guitar,” I said apologetically.
    Of course, he had to be gorgeous. I wouldn’t knock over an average guy. “Well, it sure as hell looked like it,” he said, as his lips curled up in a smile.
    “I said I was sorry. Won’t happen again--trust me.” I turned from him and prepared to jump off the stage. What a jerk!
    “You’re not even going to help me up?” he asked.
    Four other guys came into view from around the corner. Must be the rest of them, the One Night Stands .
    Rotating back to him, I held out my hand.
    “Such a lady,” he said as he took hold of it.
    I wanted to let go so he would fall on his ass again, but his grip was too tight. If I tried, we were both going down.
    “Anything else?” I asked smartly.
    Still holding my hand, he pulled me closer. The sudden intimacy made my stomach do a nervous flip. He was almost a head taller than me, so my eyes were dead even with his lips--plump lips, that were curved up in a wicked smile. This ass knew exactly what he was doing.
    Pushing against his chest, I successfully put some space between us. “What’s your problem?” I demanded.
    “What’s your problem? You’re the first woman to ever jump off my lap that fast. You into chicks?”
    I can’t believe the nerve of this guy . Rustling my hair in frustration, I couldn’t believe a human being who looked as good as he did could be so crude. His dark brown hair was wavy, unkempt, and swept off his face, but damn if it didn’t beg to be played with. He was tan and lean. He clearly took pride in his body. The cutoff shirt he had on gave him away. I unexpectedly got an image of him playing that beautiful guitar, the muscles in his fore arms and biceps moving under that tan skin, his fingers working the strings rhythmically--
    Holy shit! I need to snap out of it. I stared at him. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m not into ‘chicks.’”
    His smile reached his blue eyes and I found myself trying to remember why I was mad.
    “You know for a