“Then you get fired, or we only play at clubs where everyone’s already drunk.”

We both laughed, and I relaxed. “Sure, I’d give it a try.”

“Cool, let’s do it now.” He scrolled through his phone, and the song “Without Me” by Halsey came on. “You know this?”

I blinked. “Yeah.”

“Okay, sing.”

I twisted my fingers together, shifting my weight. “Now?”

“Why not? It’s just us.”

Which made it worse, I thought to myself. I got ready to tell him it wasn’t a good time, that I was too tipsy or something, but his gaze met mine in a bit of a challenge and I opened my mouth and began to sing. I didn’t try to hit any high notes, just gave him the basic middle strains. I kept my chin up and pretended we were in some smoky bar and I had this one moment to impress him. I had a decent singing voice, but other than chorus, I’d never tried to sing in front of someone. Finally, I stopped, curious to see what he was going to say.

“You’re good.” Warmth rushed through me. “You got the job.”

“Singing for my supper,” I teased.

He didn’t tease me back. His expression changed, the room got tight with tension, and my stomach dropped. Then he walked slowly over to me until he was super close. His breath smelled like mocha and smoke, and his eyes were dark and serious, and then he was leaning his head over and he kissed me.

I’d only been kissed a few times before, on a dare or because I was desperate to see why everyone thought it was a big deal. Mostly, they were sloppy and wet with tongue and awkward fumbling that turned me off.

But this was nice. He didn’t try to grope or shove his tongue in my mouth. Just kissed me with a firm pressure, as if testing me out. When I tentatively opened my lips wider, he finally held me, and his grip was firm and strong, so I let him take it further. It didn’t take long for his palm to cup my breast, and though it felt good, my brain began to churn, and suddenly the bed in back of him seemed too big and overwhelming, like it was taunting me.

I pulled back, unsure why I’d changed my mind, then panicked when I realized we were alone in a bedroom at a party where I didn’t know anyone. I’d seen my share of Lifetime movies where girls got raped at strangers’ houses and no one ever backed them up. I was just about to push him away hard and run, but he stepped right back on his own, staring at me with a surprisingly intent and sober gaze. “What’s wrong?”