Falling for My Best Friend (Falling Hard Book 3) by Dakota Davies

Author:Dakota Davies [Davies, Dakota]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Savage Creek Press
Published: 2021-07-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Annika

Silas Freaking Black!? Everyone is going to go nuts when they hear I saw him live. Back when the tickets for this festival went on sale in May, I got up at five a.m. to buy them, but by the time I got the site loaded, they were already sold out.

I pack up my dirty clothes and tuck them behind Grady’s seat while he folds up the blanket and grabs our coats. The whole time I was changing, he was shuffling his feet and making little throat clearing noises like he does when he’s nervous. But I’ve changed near him plenty of times: after boating trips, at the swimming hole, on backpacking trips with my family when we were younger.

Since our conversation about Parker at the animal shelter, there’s this reckless kind of energy between us, but I can’t put my finger on what it means. I even flirted with him back in that meadow, something I’ve never been bold enough to do. Why tonight?

We enter though a gate and Grady shows our tickets. Music filters across the huge open field from the stage. I don’t recognize the band, but the banjo riff is catchy. Grady takes my hand and leads me past the concessions and rows of green porta-potties to where the other concertgoers have laid down blankets or set up camp chairs. We weave through clusters of people, some focused on the music, drinks in hand, some standing in tight circles talking and laughing, until we luck out and find a recently vacated bare patch of flattened grass.

Grady sets down our coats and spreads the blanket, then does a little bow.

I laugh and slip off my flip flops, then step barefoot onto the center of the blanket.

“Thirsty?” he asks, his gray eyes sparkling in the low light.

“Sure,” I reply.

“Be right back,” he says, and dashes off.

While he’s gone, I straighten the blanket, adjust my shoes so they’re not in the way of my neighbors—two couples in their thirties who are drinking sodas wrapped in neon-pink cozies— and try to focus on the band playing bluegrass on the stage. Their music is good, but my mind is zooming somewhere over the distant mountains and my fingers can’t stop trembling.

Grady returns with two cans of Kokanee.

“Thanks,” I say as he settles onto his butt next to me, wincing when he swings his left leg forward.

“You’re really hurting, aren’t you?” I ask.

He cracks his beer. “Maybe you could rub it for me later.”

I roll my eyes. “How did you get so full of yourself?”

He waits for me to crack open my beer, then taps his against mine. “To a perfect night.”

“Amen,” I reply. Just as I take a sip, the band on stage finishes their last song. A tingle races over my skin—Silas Black is next.

“Thank you, thank you very much!” the lead singer on stage says, giving the crowd a wave. I jump to my feet and send them off with a loud cheer. Grady ambles to join me, whistling the way he does with two fingers in his mouth.

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