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“Who wouldn’t be?”
I take another sip of my drink, and I’m sad to see the ice is melting, because I’m melting as well. My cheeks are on fire, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m sitting next to Eli, or because it’s so fucking hot in here.
Likely both.
Dammit. I’m supposed to be here for Beckett, not Eli Donnelley.
“Your face is all red,” Eli says, frowning. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just really hot in here.”
“Do you want another drink?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
He gestures to the band. “You like these guys?”
“It’s my friend Beckett’s band. He’s the lead singer and guitarist.”
Eli raises an eyebrow, then glances at the stage, where Beckett’s launched into an ear-splitting guitar solo. A frown crosses his handsome face. “That’s your friend, eh?”
“Yeah, friend. You have those, right?” I shoot back.
He snorts with laughter. “Damn. You’ve got such a mouth on you.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say sweetly, batting my eyelashes at him. “Do you prefer women to be seen and not heard?”
He laughs again, then shakes his head. “No, I don’t. I just meant I think Beckett might see you as more than a friend. He keeps looking over here.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Even though I know that Jasmine and Eli are probably right, I took pains not to fuss around with my appearance tonight. Beckett texted me to wait for him after the show, and I agreed, but I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. Which I thought he might if I were all dressed up.
The only thing I’d done differently is wear my hair down and put on my new Converse. Though I’m regretting wearing my hair down now, considering I have sweat rolling down the back of my neck.
So gross.
“Okay, I’m getting you another drink,” Eli says, then stands. “I don’t like how red you look. Save my seat. What are you drinking? Cola?”
“Yeah,” I reply, not bothering to fight him on it. I need ice, STAT.
God, how can the crowd tolerate this level of heat? Doesn’t Featherz have working air conditioning? It might be October, but come on.
Eli returns a few minutes later with a box of nachos, my cola, and a bottle of water.
“Extra ice,” he says, setting it down in front of me. “That should help a bit.”
“Oh, thank you,” I say gratefully, fishing an ice cube out of the glass with my straw. I snare it with my fingers and run it down over my throat.
Eli takes his seat and glances over at me, his gaze on my neck. I drop the cube on the floor, realizing that this probably looks more erotic than I meant it to.
“Please, don’t stop on my account,” he says, giving me a playful leer.
I roll my eyes. “It wasn’t for your benefit. It really is boiling in here.”
“Yeah, it’s fucking ridiculous,” he agrees. “Here, have some of my nachos.” He sets the box down on the table between us. “There’s like three servings in here.”
“Aren’t you here with your friends?” I ask, curious. “I thought you jocks travelled in a pack.”
