Starting From Here (Starting From #3) - Lane Hayes Page 0,32

his hands in the air to get attention. A simple smile and a few notes from his guitar sparked immediate interest. The second Dec opened his mouth, he owned you.

Not me. I knew he was trouble.

Which was why I didn’t understand how this physical reaction to him seemed to resurge lately…and stronger than ever. My pulse was racing, and my stomach felt woozy. Geez, maybe I was coming down with something.

Might as well get this over with.

I slipped by a cluster of scantily-clad models hanging out near the bar and moved in.

“…more fascinated by human interest stories anyway. I love writing about artists, but musicians get me every time,” Petra said, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“Good to know,” Declan replied with a grin.

“I have to tell you a secret. I only came tonight to see Zero and Jealousy. I’ve been following you for a while. Zero specifically, but I want to know more about Jealousy too. I’d love to sit down and chat sometime…in an official capacity, of course,” she continued, fluttering her eyelashes.

“Definitely.” Declan’s smile froze for a moment, then brightened when he spotted me. He motioned me over, shifting sideways to make room in the crush of people vying for the bartender’s attention. “Hey, you need to meet Tegan. He’s Zero’s drummer. T, this is Petra. She’s a freelance music reporter.”

“A pleasure to meet you. Really. I’m a big fan. I was so excited when Charlie told me he was representing both of your bands. I’ve been in your audience so often, I feel like I know you guys,” Petra gushed.

“Thanks. Nice to meet you too.” I shook her hand politely before shoving mine into my back pocket.

“I hope this doesn’t seem too forward of me, but I’ve been trying to get a feel for your dynamic. I know the Gypsy Coma story very well. Too well, maybe,” she said with a laugh. “I didn’t think you got along, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. Maybe it’s just Charlie’s PR magic, but the guys in both of your bands seem to really like each other. You remind me of long-lost friends.”

Declan shrugged. “In a way, we are.”

She dropped her breezy manner and sharpened her gaze. “How so?”

The transition from flirty fangirl to “reporter chasing a story” mode was jarring. Neither of our bands was a household name yet, but I’d learned the hard way not to divulge personal info. Even small details could get twisted, and I wasn’t good at playing those games. Besides, spinning the Zero and Jealousy story was Charlie’s job.

I shot a warning look at Dec as I leaned forward to set my glass on the bar. “We’ve known each other for a while. That’s all.”

“Yeah, T and I were best buddies when we were kids,” Dec blabbed.

She widened her eyes. “Oh, wow! I had no idea! Charlie didn’t tell me. Does anyone know that?”

“Uh…I don’t know,” I stammered.

“I heard you didn’t get along well. Is that true?”

Dec grinned and set his arm over my shoulders. “T’s a tough nut to crack, but he’s a good guy. Mostly.”

“Oh, my gosh! Tell me everything! Off the record, if you want,” Petra assured him emphatically before launching into a barrage of questions. “Did you go to elementary school together?”

“Yes.”

“Where did you live?” she asked.

“Long Beach.”

“How old were you when you first met?”

Dec cocked his head and shot a playful look my way. “I think we were four. Right, T?”

What the fuck was wrong with him? I furrowed my brow and studied Dec carefully. He looked normal, aka hotter than other mere mortals. His longish hair brushed the collar of the snug-fitted button-down he wore. The funky pattern went well with the strategic rips in his designer jeans.

I stared at his bare knee before resurfacing. “Uh…”

“That’s so cool,” Petra gushed. “I had no idea. No wonder Gypsy Coma was so explosive.”

Declan’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We don’t want to focus on old drama, but if you want a real scoop, I can tell you about the time I put a frog in Tegan’s shoe and—”

He’d officially gone too far. I yanked Declan’s elbow hard enough to knock his drink. Vodka splashed over the rim of his glass, dousing the front of Petra’s blouse. She jumped backward and bumped into the guy behind her.

“Oh, no!” she cried, her pretty mouth making a perfect O of horror.

I apologized profusely but when she paused, I took advantage of the interruption to grab a few napkins from