Page 12 of Expressionate
"That was great!" Cross’ little fling jumps at us as we step up to the bar. I catch the bartender’s attention and hold up three fingers. He knows us well enough by now to know what wewant.
Cross must be second guessing his disinterest in the fling because he's all smiles for her as she grips his shirt and drags his head down to her before slapping her bright pink lips on his. She then slides up further and whispers something in his ear. He grins wide and nods his head, whispering something back as his hands travel around herwaist.
I watch Love as she watches them, her slim chin tilted down toward her chest and to the side. She's sitting stiffly at the bar with an empty glass and a receipt beneath it. I drift closer, taking the stool next to her and watch as her shoulders slowly rise, so minutely only someone watching closely would notice. I smirk as the bartender hands me my beer and sets two more to the side. Blake takes his and pulls out his phone. I continue to watch Love, enjoying the knowledge that I must be affecting her in some way for her to tense like that. Then she slaps a pen down on the bar top before crumpling what looks like a napkin in her fist and shoves it in one of her pockets. I wonder what she waswriting.
"Can you stop staring?" She flicks her gaze to mine without turning herhead.
My smirk widens. I’ve decided. I want her. "No," I reply. "I like looking at beautifulthings."
She doesn't flush or deny my compliment or get irritated or do anything that I expect her to do. Instead, she gets up from the bar and looks at me, head-on. My eyes dip down to her perfectly sculpted lips, the color of rose petals, and eyes that – I stop. Eyes that shoot me in the fucking chest. Her head turnsaway.
"Are you ready to head back?" she asks her friend. The girl – whose tongue is halfway down Cross’ throat – pulls away from his face, confused. I almost laugh because Cross is left blinking with a smudge of bright pink lipstick across his mouth. Not that good? I can't wait to get on him about thatlater.
"Now?" her friend asks. "No, I want to stay and dance. Cross and I are gonnadance."
"Oh, we can dance just fine back at my–" I frown at him, shake my head, and he nods, "I mean,yourapartment."
Fling girl pouts, and I see an opportunity. I look to Blake. "You mind riding back with them?" Iask.
He flicks his gaze up from his phone and frowns at me before looking to Cross and his girl. He raises his brow and shakes his head. "Nah, I've got some friends on the way. They'll give me a rideback."
That'll do,I think. "I'll give you a ride," I state, grabbing Love’s keys out of her hand and tossing them at Cross’ new girlfriend. She squeals and leaps out of the way before they hit her. I scowl. That was an easy toss, she could have easily caught them, but I don’t say anything. Instead, I look to Love. "Let'sgo."
I start walking toward the door of the bar, leaving my half empty beer behind, knowing the guys will pick up the tab and I'll get them back next time. I don’t even have to look behind me to see if she’s following. I know she will because there’s no way Cross is going to let her little friend go. Not with the look I gave him as I passed by. He knows what I want, and he’ll help me getit.
The night’s heat hits me in the face as I leave the bar. At the Jeep I click the button to unlock the doors and wait at the tail for Love to catch up. She’s slow to follow behind me, but within minutes she exits the building, her face flushed as she catches my gaze and then slides past me to open the passenger door to get inside. So trusting. I get in on the driver’s side and crank the engine before turning on the AC full blast. Love shivers and crosses her arms over her chest, but I see it already – her nipples arehard.
5
Love
What am I doing? I ask myself this question dozens of times as I make my way outside. As soon as Tax made the decision to give me a ride back, tossing my keys at Beverly as if he had the right to, I knew something was going to go wrong. I could have taken the keys back from her, but I also knew that I had downed a lot more alcohol than normal. I didn't like feeling like I was falling into the habit again. That's funny – twenty-one and already worried about becoming an alcoholic. Story of my life, I suppose. Instead of taking my keys back, though, I’d extracted a promise from Cross not to drink and not to let Beverly drive. He’d admitted that they would likely take an Uber back and had handed me my keys anyway. I had taken them, sighed, and followed Tax out, letting my curiosity pull me in hisdirection.
He’s standing behind a beat up looking Jeep, a smirk on his lips that makes the angles of his jaw that much more striking. I frown at him before hurrying past and slipping into the passenger side. He follows, cranking the engine and turning on the AC. I shiver and cross my arms, feeling my nipples harden. I should have worn a thicker bra. I could ask him to turn it down, I realize, but for some reason, I keep my mouth shut as he backs out of thespot.
What is he doing? I wonder. Taking a stranger home. He doesn't seem like the neighborly type. I wonder what's going through his head, what he's thinking. I wonder if it's just nosiness. I frown, thoroughly disliking that thought. It irritates me beyond belief. I hate nosy people. I mean Ireallyhate nosypeople.
"What were you writing?" Tax asks as he slows to a red light and turns to look atme.
I tense. "We don't need to talk," Isay.
"Why not?" heasks.
I will my heart to calm, but it’s difficult when the damn thing won't do what I say.Why him?I think. What is it about him that throws me off? Is it his eyes? I glance over at him, wanting to see if the pain I've glimpsed a couple of times is still there. Perhaps, I imagined it. I can't see his face because he's looking forward at the road, as he should. I turn back to thewindow.
"Why can't we talk?" he asksagain.
I inhale, glancing at him. "I didn't say we couldn't talk," I reply. "Just that we don't needto."
"What if Iwantto talk toyou?"
"Then talk," I say. "It's no concern of mine what youdo."
He laughs, amused, I assume, by something I've said or done, though I don't know what. "You don't like to talk, then?" heasks.
I shake my head. "Why talk when I have nothing tosay?"
He hums, chuckling under his breath as he drives. I frown at him and turn back to the window. "So, if I were to talk to you and you were to talk back," he begins. "What would we talkabout?"
