Page 139 of Before You Fell

Phoenix gets to his feet and the women arrange themselves around him. Two press against either side of him. The third settles slightly in front, close enough that her back nearly touches his chest.

They aren’t subtle. They don’t need to be. Women like this have followed Phoenix backstage, into elevators, hotel rooms, and bathrooms. They know the invitation does not have to be spoken if the answer is obvious enough.

I know how this usually ends. Soon enough, I’ll be sitting in this booth alone while Phoenix decides whether he wants one of them, two of them, or all three to fuck.

It normally depends on his mood and on how much trouble he thinks he can get away with before lunch.

They pose for the photo and the woman in front places her hand on Phoenix’s chest. Her fingers are splayed across his black shirt as if she has just claimed the prize.

Phoenix looks down at it.

For a second, I wait for the usual smirk. The one that says he has already pictured her naked and is deciding how much effort she will take.

But it never comes.

He lightly takes her wrist and lifts her hand away, letting her fingers slide off him without making a scene, and smiles for the photo, all sharp cheekbones and bad reputation, giving them enough rockstar flair to make the moment worth posting.

I take two shots because the first one is probably shit. I have never taken a decent photo in my life.

I hand the phone back to the brunette.

She opens the images and gasps. “Oh my God, thank you. You look amazing.”

“I usually do.”

They laugh again.

“You were so good onstage,” the blonde says. “Your voice is insane.”

Phoenix’s mouth tilts. “Yeah, it gets that reaction a lot. Usually with less clothing.”

Cocky fucker. I knew he would get there eventually.

The blonde bites her lip. “We’re staying in town tonight, actually.”

An opening wide enough for Phoenix to drive through shirtless, hard cock ready, letting his ego handle navigation.

He smirks at her, arrogance settling on his face. Then he turns away and slides back into his seat as if three beautiful women had not just offered themselves to him before he finished his coffee.

“Thanks, ladies,” he says easily. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

That’s it. No filthy promise hidden in his smile. No old fuckboy routine that leaves me feeling as if I were a chair he forgot he was sitting beside.

The women hesitate, just slightly, then smile and thank him before leaving our table.

I stare at Phoenix as he reaches for his mug, drains the last of his coffee, and notices I am still standing.

“What?”

“Who are you and what did you do with Phoenix Stone?” I ask, sliding back into the booth.

His eyes settle on mine and something in his expression shifts enough to make the joke die in my throat.

“Maybe watching you almost die fucked up my appetite for bullshit.”

I want to ask what he means by that, but Phoenix is already moving. He stands, grabs his phone and sunglasses from the table, and heads to the counter before I can get my mouth to work.

Typical Phoenix. He drops something heavy enough to crack open my chest and walks away before I can ask what the fuck I’m supposed to do with it.