It happened in a split second.

A blink.

A gasp.

No time to brace for impact.

No time to wish that I’d paid more attention, waited until all the cars had dissipated.

Just like that, my world was screeching tires, broken glass, and the crush of metal.

It started off like it had a million times before. I eased my car forward, grateful there was at least two drivers who weren’t complete assholes, blocking off the left turn at the intersection. I inched my sedan towards my final destination, humming along to some pop song that I hated, but somehow knew practically every word. Any other day, I would have just blasted my way through without second guessing myself but today, I checked to make sure the coast was clear.

Or so I thought.

The air bags oozed out of my steering wheel, the smell of something burning flooding my nostrils. I looked down at my arm. A red, angry slash glared up at me, but adrenaline didn’t let me feel anything other than a dull ringing in my ears. A scratch that I couldn’t itch.

“You stupid bitch!”

The snarl came at me from behind the fog and I blinked. Finally let go of the steering wheel. The car was still shuddering, so I killed the engine. Realized that it wasn’t my car shaking at all.

It was me.

“Hey!” the deep voice thundered from outside the window. “Get the hell out of your car!”

I whipped my head to the left. Feeling the tears rise in my throat. My body rattling like it would only take the gentlest of breezes to shatter me in a million pieces.

When I came face to face with the red-faced fury on the other side of my window, I had a feeling I didn’t have to worry about a gust of wind because this man was a category 5 hurricane, and he looked ready to tear me apart with his bare hands.

Under normal circumstances, he was probably a nice guy. He wore a striped work shirt, ’Steve’ etched in cursive, right above ‘Have a nice day’. I guessed he probably was having a nice day before I t-boned him. His balding head looked ready to explode, his beady eyes narrowed slits as he hiked a thumb over his shoulder.

“Look at what you did to my car!”

I bit my lip as I craned my neck and took a look at what used to be his car. Now, it was just a mess of metal and glass, sticking out from our community sign like a salute.

“J-jesus,” I began hoarsely. “I’m so sorry-”

“I don’t give a fuck if you’re sorry!” he hollered. “Get out of the car so we can figure this shit out.” He tapped his bare wrist, like time was a’wasting. “I’ve gotta get to work. Do you even know what that is? Do you even have a job?”

Something told me to lock my door. Or hope I still had that capability and it wasn’t damaged in the wreck. He must have read my mind because his hand darted towards my door handle just as I tapped the button. I’d never been so happy to hear that sound in my life.

Unfortunately, the sound just made him angrier. “Get. Out. Of-”

“Get away from her car. NOW.”

The second voice was just as fearsome. Just as terrifying. The difference was, all that anger and testosterone was aimed at Steve, not me.

My eyes shot to my savior and a whole new sensation rushed over me. Shot right to the place between my thighs.

The man I’d hit was built solid. He probably played sports in high school—and had a long list of kids he bullied in his glory days.

The second guy towered above him by several inches. From the bulging muscles that were barely contained by his short sleeves and his wet, blond locks, he was fresh from the gym. High off of lifting weights and swallowing protein shakes.

Dying for Steve to give him a reason.

Steve faltered, then puffed out his chest. “This is none of your business!”

“You made it my business when I pulled over to see if everyone was okay and-” Captain America paused, cloudy gray eyes ignoring him and turning to me. “Are you okay, miss? Should I call 911?”

“911?” I repeated, my voice a breathy, silly thing. I cleared my throat as fire rushed to my cheeks and glanced down at my body. Searching for something awry and luckily, coming up empty. The only thing that hurt a little was the burn on my arm, but it was superficial.

Maybe he can kiss it better...

“I-I’m alright.”

“My car ain’t alright,” Steve griped from behind him, completely monsooned by the most athletic torso I’d ever seen in real life.

I didn’t even like super muscular guys. In my experience, it equaled super egos. Guys who walked around like they were God’s gift to women. But there was something about this man that was utterly irresistible. Maybe it was the fact that he swooped in, ready to pound the douchebag I hit into the cement if he followed through on the threat in his dark brown eyes. I had a feeling that Steve would have knocked me out with one of his hairy fists if there were no witnesses present.

Steve stepped around the blond in a single, jerky movement, probably emboldened by the fact that I said I was alright. Ready to give me something to complain about.

“She wasn’t paying attention! Fucking bi-”

He didn’t get the rest of the word out before the mystery guy lifted him right off his feet. Like he weighed nothing at all. Like he meant nothing at all. The front of Steve’s shirt was balled in his mighty fist. Steve’s limbs dangled pathetically like a rag doll, his face drained of all color. All the anger he’d been ready to unleash on me was replaced with white hot terror.

“It sounded an awful lot like you were about to call this woman something other than her name. If you disrespect her one more time, your car will be the least of your worries.”

I looked on, slack jawed. Tugging at the front of my shirt because it was suddenly really hot in here.

Who was this guy?

And what was this feeling in my chest and...lower? There had been guys who were worth noting, but they all ended up disappointing me in the end.

This feeling? This instant attraction? This was new.

For the first time, I felt like I was ready to skip to the good part in the book. That I’d give anything for those powerful hands to be all over me. Lifting me up. Clutching my body to his body. Hands splayed all over me. Spreading my thighs. Doing things that I’d shied away from, hell, ran away from full speed because I didn’t want my first time to be with someone clumsy.

I wanted it to mean something.

And something told me that if  he was the guy, it would change me forever.

Snap out of it, Lay! He’s just a Good Samaritan. And so out of your league.

It was harder than it should have been, and it had nothing to do with the accident, but I tried to focus on the task at hand. I needed to get my information. 911 wasn’t necessary, but I needed to call my insurance. Get Steve’s information, which I wouldn’t have felt comfortable or safe doing if I didn’t have someone there to make sure he didn’t go postal.

The blond guy let Steve go and I tried to not smile as I watched the blustering man scramble back over to his car. I had a feeling that Steve would have all the information I’d need, without needing to be asked twice.

My mystery savior leaned down, level with my window. Without even thinking, I unlocked my door. My action surprised him too, but he didn’t reach for the door handle. He did something even worse—he flashed me a smile that made my heart melt into a sticky puddle in my chest.

“I’m Corbin,” he said, after studying my face like I was the devastatingly gorgeous one. “It’s gonna be okay.”

*

MEGAN WAS ALREADY BUZZED and that was a good thing. If she was stone cold sober, no amount of acting ability or alcohol chugging would be able to wipe the OMFG look from my face. Instead, she just chalked my reaction up to the fact that we were so close to the stage that we’d be able to feel About Us’ sweat. And from the screeches of delight that erupted around us, I wasn’t the only one that was ready for the band to take the stage.

“I’m so, so, so glad we did this, Leila!” Megan wrapped her arm around my neck and pulled me in close. “We needed a girl’s night. You know what we don’t need? Men.”

Ain’t that the truth, I thought, balling my hands into fists at my side. Trying to keep it together because I’d gone from drama with my husband to inadvertently attending my ex boyfriend’s concert. Smack dab in the front row, to boot. Slammed with the past, images, feelings, and memories pulsing through me like the bass that made my whole body vibrate.

Like it had that day.

The day we met.

I gave my head a shake and pretended I wasn’t rattled down to my very core.

Corbin freaking Wolfe.

Here.

Just behind the stage.

Finally making his dreams come true...with a song that he wrote for me.

It would have been sweet, heartwarming even—if he didn’t sing it to me two weeks before he walked out on us.

The lights dimmed and the crowd went wild. My eyes dropped to my hand. To my wedding ring. Even in the dark, it glowed. Slicing into the thing in my chest that was racing with excitement. Was it wrong that I was holding my breath? Drifting in the past, where everything was simpler and I wasn’t Leila Whitmore? When I was just...me?

I knew the answer to that question, knew that the dark and scary place I was in with Jacob was making me nostalgic. I just wanted to be some girl in the crowd, lost in the music.

Liar.

You just want to see him.

The one who got away.

A note rang out clear as a bell and the spotlight gave me my wish.

Center stage.

Google had already shown me that the years had been very kind to him. He still had the same athletic physique, but he was more lean vs bodybuilder these days. Tank tops were traded for flannel and band tees, gym shorts for ripped jeans and chucks. He wore glasses, black plastic frames, making his eyes look even grayer. More mysterious. And just like I remembered, it was impossible to take your eyes off him when he had a guitar in his hands.

Those eyes looked out into the crowd and I inhaled sharply, my body going rigid until I gave myself a mental slap upside the head. I wasn’t some wide eyed groupie. I wasn’t eighteen years old with my heart on my sleeve. He was just a guy. A guy that happened to be my ex. A guy who happened to be the first guy who-

“WOOHOO!”

Megan’s whoop snatched me from the past and dumped me back in the present.

“Oh my God,” I murmured, blushing and averting my eyes when I realized that the same whoop Megan let loose was catching—and two women to our right followed theirs by flashing their breasts.

I met Megan’s eyes and narrowed mine when she got a mischievous glimmer in hers. “Don’t even think about it. I signed up for a night of escape, not Girls Gone Wild.”

Megan slumped her shoulders and I decided that I was cutting her off. I had a feeling she’d regret it if someone snapped a picture and she became ‘that fiery redhead Cade Wallace is dating that likes to flash bands at concerts’. Not that there was anything wrong with doing you since the bare chested women next to us seemed to be having the time of their lives—until one of the security guards came over (and it wasn’t to give them backstage passes).

Megan’s disappointment was short lived because a hush fell across the crowd when Corbin strode to the mic in the center of the stage with a swagger I was all too familiar with.

Breaking at least a dozen hearts, he huskily breathed, “Is this thing on?”

The crowd screeched in hungry unison, my best friend included.

“God, he’s hot.”

I wished all the noise around us blocked out her lusty commentary. Her honest commentary. ‘Hot’ was a good start...along with a host of other tasty adjectives. His hair was longer than I remembered, blond strands spilling into his eyes in a retro way that reminded me of soda shops, poodle skirts, and making out in the back of classic cars. His voice was richer than I remembered, like a DJ who knew exactly what he was doing, smooth notes riding on the airwaves, reaching somewhere deep inside.

The cocky little half smile he smiled when someone hollered, ‘I love you,  Corbin’? It was jjarring enough to remind me why I was standing out here and he was up there. He needed to be needed. Adored. Worshipped.

Some things never change.

And just to prove my point, he formally introduced himself.

“I’m Corbin Wolfe-”

He paused, and if you were just rolling up off the street, plopped into the crowd with no idea who or what you were about to see, that line, along with the pause for applause, would have made you think this was a solo act. The Corbin Wolfe Show.

“-and we are About Us.”

I rolled my eyes to the sky. His bandmates were probably used to this little introduction and sharing the stage with his ego, but I could have sworn I caught the drummer rolling his eyes too. Just when I was about to write him off, forgetting that he was actually talented, he gripped the mic and sang soulful lyrics that gave me chills.

It was my second time hearing it tonight.

“There was something in your eyes-

Nights used to be for lullabies-”

“Lights down, we shouldn’t,  but can’t say no-”

“Wait, you know this band?” Megan squealed beside me. “They’ve been wearing this song out on the radio. Ms. Jenkins at the front desk loves it to death!”

I scrubbed a hand over my face, leaving my palm over my mouth before anything else fell out. Just in time for the lights to stream over the crowd, blinding me as Corbin approached the edge of the stage, doing a call and respond with the eager crowd.

“Leila?”

I thought it was Megan, but I realized instantly that was impossible. It was coming from the stage.

From right in front of me.

Echoing all around me.

He shouldn’t have noticed me in the sea of faces. Not with the hat, the hoodie, and the look of horror on my face.

But he said it again.

“Leila Montgomery, is that you?!”

Crap.

I didn’t think, didn’t say a word, all I did was move...yanking a very confused Megan behind me.

Her questions rose up like the swell of the music. Luckily for me, the music drowned out most of her words, but I knew her well enough to fill in the blanks.

“What the-”

(Hell is going on?!)

“...this dude?”

(How do you know)

“I don’t need you to-”

(Drag me to the exit. I need you to-)

“-tell me what’s going on!”

Her last statement came through loud and clear because we reached the outskirts of the crowd, our disruption of the flow already forgotten since the full band jumped in and saved my ass. There was only music now. Corbin’s moment of going off script, squinting into the light like he saw a ghost was a distant memory as he crooned out the words to the song, giving every person their own private show.

I kept moving, putting the music behind us. I pointed us towards the tiny hipster village that had been erected, full of band merch and people selling their wares—and just quiet enough that I couldn’t avoid her questions, even if I wanted to. And from the way she was glaring at me, planting her feet firmly on the ground, snatching her hand from my hold and placing it on her hip, she wasn’t going a step further without some answers.

I turned my back to the music, adjusted my cap, and tried to start from the beginning. “Do you remember when we met freshmen year?”

“...yes?” Megan replied, her expression telling me I was giving her more questions vs. answers. “What does that have to do with-“

“We stayed up late that first night and you told me about Jason and how he was the first guy who made you feel like...” I trailed off, not sure how to describe that feeling. When you realize that it’s more than the butterflies. More than lust. It felt a lot like love but saying that word, now, after Jacob opened my eyes to a whole new world felt...wrong.

A bleary eyed guy with blonde dreads and a Bob Marley t-shirt stumbled up to us, clutching a joint. “Y’all here alone? Wanna-“

“No thanks,” Megan snapped, hooking my arm and pulling me past the cluster of people who were swaying to the music, high off life and other things. We paused to the right of the water tent, and from her bug eyes, I decided we should probably hydrate so she wouldn’t pass out or get sick.

“Since we’re already here-“

“I don’t need water,” she told me with a firm head shake. “If memory serves, I may need another drink if you’re about to tell me that the guy up on the stage is the guy.”

Now my eyes bulged. “Not the guy. The guy is Jacob. My husband. The father of my child.”

She saddled me with a look. “Don’t get all defensive, Lay. I’m not accusing you of anything or saying you’re about to run off with the lead singer from About Us.” She took a breath and moved closer, her voice a little softer. “I do remember that day. It’s how I knew we’d be best friends. It was the first time I said that Jason was a bastard out loud.”

Both of us hit the jackpot with our ex’s in the crushing disappointment department. Her ex? He had a problem keeping his dick in his pants. And somehow, he found a way to blame Megan for his infidelity. She was just too perfect. He didn’t deserve her...so he sabotaged it by sleeping with other women.

Mine? He was destined for greatness...and great men don’t do commitment.

Megan’s green eyes glazed over, lost in the memories. Locked in to her very own uncomfortable walk down Memory Lane.

She jerked her hand to her mouth, like she was screeching to a stop on said lane, her eyes widening as she finally put all the pieces together.

“Wait...the guy up on stage is the dude?! The first guy you ever-”

She raised her crimson eyebrows and made a circle with her thumb and pointer finger then-

“Megan!” I hissed, swatting her hands and glancing around us, like there was a neon sign above our heads, detailing the whole affair.

Under normal circumstances, she probably would have rolled her eyes and reminded me that it was 2017 and having sex with someone was no longer something to be discussed in hushed tones, but we were surrounded by people dressed in everything from headdresses to band tees, screaming and squealing and swaying. We’d driven right past ‘normal’ when I realized that my ex was some sort of rock star...and just announced to the whole world that we were acquainted.

“But he just...” she trailed off, not bothering with miming just how screwed I was. A single finger slashing across her throat wasn’t necessary.

Girl’s night was over.