Page 41 of Expressionate
I raise my brows before laughing. "I'm a big fan of Asian food," I say. "I've always doneit."
She shrugs. "Yeah, but those are nice chopsticks – not the cheap wooden ones. If you rub them together like that, I'm pretty sure it's basically saying that you think they'recheap."
My eyes widen, and I quickly look around. No one seems to have noticed. "I'll...ah...try not doing it again, then," I say, one hand lifting to rub the back of my head. Embarrassment floods me. "Thanks."
Her eyes shine in amusement. "You can always research chopstick etiquette when you get home," she suggests. "I could bewrong."
I tilt my head to the side as I pick my chopsticks back up. "How'd you know in the first place?" Iask.
She scrunches up her nose and I know she doesn't want to talk about herself. But I don't retract my question. If she doesn't want to answer it, then she's going to have to be brave enough to tell me. I know she will be. I enjoy those moments of her resistance. She doesn't get so embarrassed as much as she just refuses to do what anyone else expects. Then she surprises me yetagain.
"I had this teacher in high school," she confesses, "she was actually a student teacher and she was pretty observant. We were assigned this paper on exploring other cultures and their traditions. When she realized I was struggling – my family wasn't exactly culturally explorative – she introduced me to a bunch of different ideas. The Asian cultures interested me the most. Some of the research I did has stuck throughout the years becoming random facts. I'm sure everyone hasthem."
I nod and smile. "Axl Rose's real name is Billy," I say, "and he's from a place called Lafayette,Indiana."
Her mouth parts as she raises a piece of sushi to her lips, but her hand stills and she looks at me. "Really?"
I nod, still grinning, before tapping the side of my head with my free hand. "Most of my random facts are musicrelated."
"That isn't surprising, you’re a musician afterall."
"That Iam."
"What made you decide to be a musician?" sheasks.
I sigh, setting my chopsticks down as she takes her bite. I lean my elbows on the table, interlacing my fingers as I prop my chin on them and watch her. "Ally did, actually," Isay.
"Yoursister?"
"Yeah." I look to the side, scanning the rest of the restaurant. "I used to sing to her when we were kids. I didn't think anything of it, but she always told me how happy it made her. After – well, after I left my parents' place and went out on my own, I met up with Cross and Blake. Blake used music to relax. He wasn't much for the whole performance aspect. That was allCross."
"You know," she says, "that doesn't surpriseme."
I turn back to her just as she pops another sushi roll into her mouth and chews while blinking at me. "Smartass," Itease.
She shrugs and continueseating.
"Well, you're not wrong," I say, "Cross likes the various aspects of performance. There's a real rush to it. We're decent enough – meaning we have the equipment and we've put in thepractice."
"You must be doing well if all three of you can afford to live at the apartment complex – in a four bedroom – with just what you make atmusic."
I laugh. So loudly that a couple across the restaurant looks over, the woman scowling until she catches sight of me. As her expression morphs into one of interest, I calm down and focus my attention back on Love. "Oh no," I say, "Blake and Cross have other jobs as well. Cross is a personal trainer at a local gym and Blake is a graphic artist. He does all of our branding and stuff. I used to work at a friend's garage, but it's across town, so I mostly do music lessons when I can, the guitar, piano, drums – for a while there, I wanted to learn it all until I stuck tovocals."
"I never knew," she says, soundingsurprised.
Chuckling, I lean back, slinging one arm across the seatback. I spread my legs under the table. "You neverasked."
Love frowns and her head tips to the side. Her eyes slide away, and I watch as her mouth opens and her teeth sink into her lower lip. In a split second, I'm hard enough to hammer nails. Shit—fuck. "You're right," she says as I attempt to adjust in the seat, scooting closer to the table and picking up my chopsticksagain.
"Um...I am?" I say, sliding across the seat closer to the inside of the booth as she continues worrying that lip with the blunt edges of her teeth. I can practically see that petal colored mouth wrapped around my dick, her big jade eyes staring up at me as she takes me into her throat.Fuck.
"Yeah," she says. I freeze when her gaze meets mine. "I'm sorry, I've been kind of a bitch to you since you movedin."
As I set my arms down on the table – chopsticks in hand, feeling like a fucking moron for probably looking like a squirming weirdo – I look at her. "You're not a bitch," I say, "and so what if you didn't know that the guys and I had extra jobs. We're neighbors, not fucking bestfriends."
"I thought we weredating."
I narrow my gaze on her. Oh, this sly little bird. I laugh. "Yes, we are," I state, "so since we're dating and you didn't know anything about me – I guess you'll have to make it up to me won'tyou?"
