Page 10 of Expressionate
"Fucking keep your eyes on the road, dipshit!" I snap, bracing against the ‘oh shit handle’ in front of me instead of above me where they usuallyare.
Cross turns his gaze back to the road but doesn't forget his intentions. "You into the roommate?" heasks.
I can feel Blake's curious eyes boring holes in the side of myface.
I shrug. "I think she's hot. We'll see. I’m not a fuckingeunuch.”
"You could’ve fooled us,” Cross mutters before Blake’s voice rises abovehis.
“You think a lot of chicks are hot. That don't mean you call dibs on them. When was the last time you did that, huh? Not since before Ally moved in withus."
"It's not a big deal," Iinsist.
"You're never interested in chicks anymore, man," Cross says. He shakes his head as he turns into the parking lot of City Limits. It's a fucking full house tonight. It's gonna be packed inside. "Just wondering what's so fucking different about this one, since you've barely spoken two words toher."
"Youdon't need to talk to a chick to want to bang her," I snap. "Why shouldI?"
"We were just curious, man, chill," Blake says as Cross slams the Jeep intopark.
"If you're really into her," Cross says. "You might get a chance at her tonight 'cause your girl'shere."
My gaze snaps up and through the windshield I watch her and her roommate at the entrance of City Limits. While the roommate is dressed to kill in an outfit similar to the one from the night before, hot chick looks less than impressed. In fact, she looks like she'd rather be anywhere but here right now. Her hair is slapped up in a messy ponytail, she's wearing jeans that cup the goddamn gorgeous curves of her ass, and a tank that reveals the tattoos peeking out from her back that spreads across both shoulders. I find myself with the mental image of stripping that tank top away and taking my time to lick my way across the ink lines on her skin. I can’t say they’re not a surprise, but damn if they don’t get mehot.
"Let's go." I slam the Jeep door closed before heading for the back to begin unloading speakers andinstruments.
3
Love
I'll have a glass of Merlot," Beverly says to thebartender.
She turns back to me, her crop of blonde curls nearly slapping me in the face. The gruff looking man behind the bar, with an open flannel over his dark, City Limits Employee logo shirt, doesn't even bother to nod at her before looking tome.
"Long Island," I saypolitely.
He nods and bustles away. I tap the power button on the side of my phone. Nine new, missed calls from Todd. I sigh and deletethem.
"God, I can't wait to see Cross play," Beverly gushes. "I bet he's really good. I know instrument guys are good with their fingers and he definitely was, so he has to begood."
I blink at her from my seat. I did not need to know that. I pull out my phone and check my recent messages; still no word from Trish on whether or not things worked out with Lawrence. I assume, since she hasn't called crying again, they probably made up. My drink arrives in a tall glass with a thick black straw next to Beverly's thin stemmed wine glass. She takes her Merlot and chugs it like a shot. I stare at her for a moment and notice that the bartender, too, has stopped. His upper lip quirks with a slight look of surprise, but he doesn’t say anything as she hiccups andfrowns.
"I should have started with one of those." She nods to the drink in my hand that I haven't had a chance to take a sipof.
"Do you want another one?" the bartender asks, as he reaches for the now empty wine glass. Beverly nods, dismissing him completely with a flip of her hair and a squeal as the lights around the stage godown.
She leaps off her chair. "Oh my god! It's them! Can you freaking believe it?!" she screams atme.
"Uh, yeah," I say, "it's why we came, isn'tit?"
But Beverly isn't listening to me. She's already pushing through the packed bar, heading toward the front of the stage. I sigh and lean back against the countertop of the bar as the bartender returns with a new glass of Merlot. He shoots a look out into the crowd and sighs as several more patrons leave the bar to head toward the stage. He lingers nearby. My eyes traverse the room. More than half of its occupants are female, and of those females, almost all of them are dressed to attract attention. I know I'm not, but that's never deterred male attention before, and it won't tonight. I notice as another bar patron, a slender man in a button-down shirt and well-fitting jeans steps up to the bar at my side and orders an Old Fashioned. I don't look at him. There's a reason he chose to stop right beside me, even though there are many open stools up and down the bar now that everyone is on the dance floor gearing up for theband.
"Hi," the man says, proving mypoint.
I sigh. "Hi."
The band steps out and the lights in the bar dim further, all except for the bright spotlights that shine directly on Tax as he stops at the front of the stage. For a second his eyes squint against the light, then his expression clears as he looks around and smiles. I can practically hear the panties slapping thefloor.
"–here?" I barely catch the tail end of the question that the guy next to me is asking, but I turn my gaze back tohim.
