My body shivers as I hug my waist, sitting alone at this table inside Wily Dragon Bar. Some people say that this bar gets a lot of hype recently because of its sick live music. That's strange, because I haven't heard of it until Keisha mentioned this famous 'Wily' yesterday even though I've been living in Florida since the day I was born.

Or maybe it's the fact that I don't usually hang out in bars. I'm only 18, and I can't take alcohol in public. I like coffee, though, and if I want to get my daily dose of caffeine, with my favorite apple pie or cheesecake, I can just go to the nearest cafe or Starbucks.

Not a bar like this with such a dim light that makes the whole place too dark to enjoy the food.

Not with all this laughter coming from the men who seem too drunk to utter a word.

And not with this horrible smell coming from some guys smoking cigarettes that makes me cough in disgust once in a while.

And one thing for sure, the air conditioner of this bar is unnecessarily strong. Even with all these people around, this place feels so cold.

Damn, what the hell am I doing here in the first place? This place is horrible.

I tap my fingers on the table impatiently, waiting for Keisha to answer my text, since she hasn't picked up my calls. My iced lychee tea sits right in front of me, and it's almost half empty because I've got nothing better to do.

Where is that girl? She's the one getting all excited to go to this bar, saying, "Mia, I heard the live music in this bar is so good, like, there's this cool band with really nice songs and hot members."

I shake my head in disbelief. I bet that she only wants to check those hot eye candies out. Speaking of the devil, my phone buzzes, and there's one message from Keisha.

Before I can open it and scold her again for making me wait here for a solid half an hour, loud cheers erupt inside the room that I almost jump in my seat.

I shift my attention to the stage, on which a few guys appear. Well, I may be too skeptical to admit that Keisha is right, that those guys are hot. But they definitely catch my attention.

The four members of the band take their places, getting ready with their instruments.

Let's talk about the drummer first. Bald guy. Tall guy with muscles. He has tattoos on his hands running all the way up to his upper arms.

Then there's the bassist. Long blonde hair, shoulder-length. He has tattoos on his arms too, but not as many as the drummer's.

My breath hitches as I scan the lead guitarist, spiked black-haired, tall and lean. I think that he's the tallest one among the members. His arms are covered with his black leather jacket sleeves, so I can't see much of his tattoos. But judging by how it's visible on his neck, I assume that he has his whole upper body covered with it.

I swallow. Something about his presence scares me. Something about his hooded eyes and dark stare. He's chewing gum, rolling his eyes as he plays some melodies on his electric guitar, and I shudder, shifting my attention to the vocalist.

My gaze darts on the last member. Just like his friends, he's tall and well built. He's dressed in a black leather jacket too, over his white t-shirt, with ripped black jeans and black boots.

His hair is dark and messy, his eyes blue. His guitar is slung across his shoulder. He grabs the mic and greets us, "Good evening, people. How are you doing?"

Deep husky voice echoes in the air. This guy has already sounded good even when he hasn't started singing -- that's ridiculous.

"We're Slashed Coke, and we're going to play some songs tonight," he says.

I find myself drawn more into the vocalist than the rest of the members, maybe because he's the one talking and giving me the impression that they're not as scary as they look.

The lead guitarist mutters something to him, causing him to smirk and nod in understanding. The vocalist shifts his attention back to the audience, and when the band plays the intro of their first song, our eyes meet.

My heart thuds as his eyes land on me, and when he starts singing, I tear my gaze away.

I drink my iced lychee tea and look at anywhere but him, trying to ignore how his voice sounds really good. Like, super good. This guy can sing.

Despite how awful this place is, Keisha was right when she told me that it had good live music.

Right. I remember that I haven't read her text. Silly me. I'm too caught up with the band.

My eyes widen as I read her message.

Keisha: I'm so sorry. Something came up and I can't go there tonight. Grandma just got into a hospital, and the whole family is here.

My heart sinks. It's not because she can't show up here as she told me to, but because her grandmother is one of the loveliest people on earth and hearing about her admitted into a hospital breaks my heart.

Me: Hey, it's okay. Don't worry about that. I'm so sorry about what happened to your grandma. Is she okay?

Keisha: It's nothing serious, thank God. She had a light stroke because she skipped one of her medicines, but everything is under control now. She'll get discharged soon.

I sigh in relief.

Keisha: You're going home, right? I don't want you in that place alone. It's not safe. Text me when you get home.

I get what she means. This place isn't just some regular bar. I can feel something off with the customers. Hanging out here would be fun if we had each other's backs, but now that she's not here, I don't feel like hanging out here any longer.

But then, while I'm watching the band playing, my mind creates another scenario.

Maybe it's not that bad to listen to some good music, right? That's why we've decided to go here in the first place.

One song, just one song, then I'm good to go.

***

AN:
Welcome to the first chapter of My Girl. Thank you for giving this book a chance.

Can you guess which one is Cal?