Trent set an alarm on his phone just in case he fell asleep, too, and then draped his arm over Bree and closed his eyes.
The feel of her stirring woke him. Bree suddenly bolted upright in bed. “What time is it?”
“It’s… a little past five.”
She collapsed. “Thank God. I thought I was late.” Brushing the hair out of her face, she tried to calm down as Trent chuckled at her.
“I set an alarm for six. I figured that should give you time to get there by eight, right?”
She nodded. “Thanks. I should’ve never doubted you.” Bree rolled over and kissed him, and the feel of her body pressed against his excited him in ways that made him think of other things besides sleeping. Deepening the kiss, Trent pulled her closer and swiped away the sheets and blankets they were tangled in.
Making love to her was easy and natural, just like breathing. He’d thought it would be awkward, they’d been friends for so long, but when he pushed inside of her, and she tipped her head back and released a small moan, Trent felt as if that was where he was meant to be. They moved together as one, her hands hooked around his shoulders, her knees squeezing against his hips as she lifted and arched her back in rhythm with him. He could’ve kept her there all night, spasming, gasping for air, and calling his name, but he wanted to hold her a little longer before she had to get ready for her show, so once he was sure she’d been at her peak for several minutes, he joined her in a wave of ecstasy unlike any he’d ever experienced with anyone else.
He stayed there with her beneath him, staring down at her glistening body, wanting to shelter her from the world. Bree opened her eyes and smiled at him. Trent leaned down and kissed her softly before pulling his body from between her legs and wrapping her in his arms.
Bree laid her head on his chest, trailing her fingers up and down, setting him on fire again. He breathed deeply, knowing there wasn’t time for that. “It’s not weird, is it?”
Her question almost seemed like it wasn’t one, like it was a simple statement. Trent’s answer came quickly because he’d already been thinking about that earlier, when she was asleep. “No, not for me.”
“Did you think it would be?”
“Maybe.”
“Yeah, me, too. But it’s not. It’s… perfect.”
He kissed the top of her head, completely agreeing. “I love you so much, Bree. I’m so glad we’re finally together. I can’t imagine anything ever being this perfect.”
“Me neither.” She turned and kissed his chest and then snuggled up against him, and any worries Trent had had about anything at all faded away. They could handle any obstacle that came their way. He was sure of it.
Sitting at a table near the stage, but to the extreme right side of the club, Trent surveyed the crowd. The act before Bree had just finished, and the jukebox was playing. A few couples were dancing. Plenty of beer was flowing, and the crowd was fairly rowdy for a weeknight.
The environment seemed a little off to him, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on the why of it. He’d seen three bouncers earlier and knew they were big guys who could probably handle just about anybody individually, but some of these packs of cowboys who’d had a little too much to drink might be a problem if they decided to get even more loud and rambunctious.
Bree had been playing all sorts of venues recently, from theaters to larger bars like this one. Most of the time, people had come to hear the music and would sit down and shut up once she started playing. But as Trent took a sip of his beer, he had to wonder if this group might be slightly different.
“Hi, hon. You here by yourself?” A tiny redhead in cowgirl boots, a tank top and a pair of cutoffs that didn’t leave much to one’s imagination asked, putting her hand on Trent’s shoulder as she swung around to look him in the eye.
“Nope,” he said, eyeing her hand suspiciously enough he thought she’d have to move it.
She didn’t. “Oh, well, I ain’t seen nobody sitting with you.”
“That’s because my girlfriend’s about to take the stage,” he replied. Using that word to describe Bree had seemed odd at first--not wrong, just different--but now he really liked the sound of it, especially after they’d taken things all the way earlier that day.
“You’re datin’ Bree Matthews?” the girl asked, her eyes growing wide. Her fake eyelashes curled around eyes with so much eyeliner around them, if it started to rain, she might look more like a racoon than a bar brat.
“Yeah, I am," Trent said.
“Wow--ain’t that somethin’. I shouldn’t be surprised, though. You’re so hot, and she’s so cute. Well, I guess I’ll cut my losses then, but if she ever dumps you for someone else, you come on back here and ask for Mandy, okay? Don't matter if I'm with another guy or nothin', sugar lips. You just come on over and find me. I'll be a waitin' for you!”
“Oookay….” Trent mostly just agreed to get her to walk away, but there was no chance of that ever happening.
Before anyone else could come over and hear his story, the crew came out and made sure Bree’s microphone was working and checked the rest of the equipment. When she had a band to back her up, it would take a lot more work to make sure everything was good. She’d have all sorts of crew members to help her with set up and tear down and all of that. Now, it was just a couple of guys who met her at the venue each night. She tuned her own guitar between songs, too. When she was with a band, she’d hand her guitar off between songs to be tuned and grab another one.