she put it in front of me. “It's my favorite, like you asked for.”
Inhaling the scent of pineapples and the tang of spices, I nodded. “Glad I did. Thanks for your expertise.”
The young waitress looked lost. Her friend nudged her, reminding Scarlett that we all needed utensils. The girls set the table, and with the sounds of Porter and Colt cheering in my ears, I felt myself relaxing.
Chewing on the sweet chicken, my eyes flicked over to Lola. She was working on her second beer. With her lips touching the rim, she leveled her attention on me.
There was a river of fire slowly crawling through my veins. The tides were rising, I was keen to blame the alcohol. It took a lot to get me drunk, but the strong beer was doing its job.
She set the glass down slowly, fingers shaking. “What? What is it?” she asked.
Brushing fingers over my scalp, I reclined in my chair. “Just wondering how your food is.”
Lola nudged the plate towards me. “It's just fries and chicken, try it.”
Grabbing up a tender, I took a bite off the end. The batter crunched, the sound of snapping branches. The flavor spread over my tongue. “Not bad at all. A little salty, maybe.”
Her smile was muted. “I like things salty.” In spite of her words, her plate was still mostly full.
Why would she be eating so little if she—Oh, I thought, right. Her tongue. I bet the salt hurts on that wound she gave herself. Thinking of that moment on the bus, my fingers holding her cheeks so she was trapped near me, had my pants tightening.
Nostrils flaring, I started to cut into my chicken. “Here, try some of mine.” Offering the fork to her, the bit of white meat and pineapple glinted between us. I expected her to take the utensil from me.
Lola swayed over the table, teeth plucking the food right off the end of my fork. My jaw dropped, and it was a miracle the fork didn't, too.
The fact she had taken it as she had, that she was chewing now with a tiny half-smile, it was sending tremors into my cells. Is she fucking with me now? She'd done something meant for lovers, not brand new band acquaintances.
Clearing my throat, I shifted on the chair. Her pink lips and pinker cheeks had made my cock swell. The inside of my zipper, even with my boxers, was becoming a cruel enemy. “Well. Do you like it?”
Lola nodded, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “A little too sugary, but still good.”
My plate slid her way. “Here, just have mine then.”
“I—what?”
Her barely eaten food was still warming the air around it. Pulling it to me, I slapped away her hand when she reached to steal it back. “Just trade with me.” Cocking an eyebrow, I gave her a meaningful look. The corner of my eye warned me that Brenda was peering at us both. “That sugary stuff will go down easier, got it?”
Personally, I didn't care if Brenda found out about how she'd chewed her tongue up. She'd dealt with worse. There was a good chance she'd roll her eyes and think Lola did it accidentally, if she didn't just shake her head to signal it wasn't her problem.
But Lola cares. One look at her pale face made that obvious.
Swallowing loudly, she started chopping at the meal with deliberate motions. “Thanks, Drezden.”
In answer, I crunched down on a fry.
Most of the evening went as expected. We ate, we drank, and there was even some laughter. Most was from Porter and Colt, but it still counted.
Scarlett kept my beer topped off, long after I stopped gulping it down. My skull was tingling with the warm tickles of alcohol. I enjoyed a good buzz, but on tour, I liked to keep it together. That plan was falling by the wayside.
The dark-haired waitress said something, bending towards me as she did so. “What was that?” I asked. Her smell was like grease and cloying lavender. No doubt she'd been on shift for hours.
“I said,” she whispered, crouching down to blow on my ear, “I get off in thirty minutes. What are you doing after this? I'd kill to see your tour bus. Seriously, just to get inside, I'd do anything.” Scarlett's meaning was as obvious as a kick to the face.
My smile was brittle. Across from me, I spotted Lola staring intently. Brenda was babbling at her, yet she wasn't listening. Lola was stuck on me