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“Not tonight.”
Hmm. He really doesn’t seem like he’d be into this kind of music at all. Or maybe there’s more to him than meets the eye.
For the next twenty minutes, we don’t say much as we watch the show and munch on the nachos. I’m not sure how much more I can take though, because the heat is starting to make me nauseated.
Thankfully, FearAttack plays their final song a few minutes later, and the lights go up.
“Is he meeting you out here after?” Eli asks.
My ears feel stuffed, and I yawn to try and pop them. “Yeah. Soon, hopefully.”
“Or now,” Eli mutters, tipping his water bottle in Beckett’s direction as he walks toward the table.
“Hey, Holland,” Becket says, smiling at me.
“Hi. Great show,” I tell him. “You guys were fantastic.”
“Thanks.”
Beckett looks at Eli, who hasn't said anything. “I’m Beckett, the guitarist for FearAttack,” he tells him. “You’re Eli Donnelley, right? From the Oakmire hockey team.”
“Yep,” Eli replies, his voice curt.
Beckett looks confused as to why Oakmire’s best defenseman is sitting at my table.
As am I, truthfully.
Frowning, I glance at Eli, then back to Beckett. “Eli’s in my history class,” I explain.
“Oh, okay.” A relieved look crosses his face. “I wondered how you two knew each other.”
Eli takes a gulp from his water bottle as he stares down Beckett, but still doesn't say anything.
Hmm.
“I was wondering if you wanted to head over to Sal’s after this, Hol. Maybe grab a burger or something? The guys volunteered to do the load-out for me since I’m the one who booked us the gig. I can get out of here in about twenty minutes, maybe.”
“Oh,” I say, panic suddenly seizing me. A burger? That sounds kind of like a date. How do I do this without it sounding like I’m agreeing to a date?
“Sure, I guess I could eat,” I reply, keeping my voice casual.
“Actually, I suggest you leave now,” Eli tells Beckett, an edge to his voice. “She’s about ten seconds away from heat stroke, if you couldn’t tell.”
“It’s not that dire,” I protest.
“Bullshit,” he argues. “You’re still red as hell. You need to get out of here before you pass out.”
“Okay... just let me tell John something, then we can leave,” Beckett says, frowning at Eli. “I can meet you out front in a few minutes, Hol.”
“Okay, sure,” I say, nodding.
Beckett looks at Eli. “Thanks for coming to the show.”
Eli inclines his head, then Beckett turns around and walks toward the backstage area.
“What’s with the big brother act?” I ask, annoyed.
Eli drains his water bottle and stands. “That’s not what that was,Hol.”
