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Tall_Man: Hell yeah. See you then, beautiful.
Me: See ya then, dude. Good luck in your game(s)!
I smile wickedly to myself and take a long slug of my whiskey. Well, damn, if I’m looking to shake things up, I think that might very well do the trick.
After putting my phone away, I look across the crowded suite at Savage again. This time, he’s looking at something on Kai’s phone. So, I scan the party again, this time landing on darling Kendrick, who’s already looking at me. When my eyes meet Kendrick’s, the smile he beams at me would light up the darkest night.
Aw, Kendrick. I think he’s still got a crush on me. In fact, I know he does. If I gave him the green light, he’d throw away our budding friendship in a heartbeat for something more. But, unfortunately, I’m just not feeling that way for him. I wish I were. What sane, functional, self-respecting woman wouldn’t want a guy like Kendrick Cook? Ergo, I’m a nut job.
I take another long slug from my bottle, just as Savage and Kai approach Kendrick and divert his attention from me. Kendrick says something to Savage that makes him throw his head back and laugh from the depths of his soul. And my jaw practically clanks to the floor. I’ve never seen that before. Savage can laugh? And like that? Holy shit.
All of a sudden, I’m flooded with a weird cocktail of emotions. A thumping attraction to Savage that physically takes my breath away. And, weirdly, jealousy because I wasn’t the one who elicited that laugh from Mr. Pouty Face.
When Savage comes down from laughing, he pulls out a box of cigarettes and holds it up to his two besties. And then, off he goes, straight out the door of Titus’ suite, obviously intending to smoke a cigarette outside.
I don’t hesitate. My chest heaving, I march toward the door, eager to seize this unique opportunity to talk to Savage alone. We’ve never had a private conversation before. Never been in a room alone. And I must admit I’m dying to have his full attention. To get to know him. Maybe even find out what kinds of things make him belly laugh, against all odds. But, mostly, I want to find out why the hell he hates me so much, and has since day one.
When I get outside, the night air is brisk but not uncomfortable. I wander around, briefly, before locating Savage around a corner. He’s sitting on the ground in the dark with his back against a building, looking out at the dark ocean below while smoking a cigarette.
As I approach, Savage blows out a long plume of smoke into the night. And I can’t help thinking the moment feels like a painting that’d hang in a contemporary art museum: “Moody Demi-God in Contemplation.”
“Mind if I join you?” I ask, coming to a stop over him.
Savage pats the ground. “I saved you a seat.”
I get settled next to him and he holds up his box of cigarettes, offering me one.
I shake my head. “I don’t smoke. I hate the taste, actually.” I offer him my bottle of whiskey and he takes a long, greedy sip.
“I don’t think I knew you smoked,” I say.
He returns the bottle to me. “I only smoke when I’m drunk, which doesn’t happen very often.” He licks his lips, slowly. Suggestively. “I’ve got a big-time oral fixation. When I get drunk, it becomes overpowering to me . . .” He licks his lips again. “And I feel like I have to put something in my mouth.”
Oh, Jesus Christ. The boy just flash-melted my panties.
I clear my throat, pretending I didn’t understand the sexual innuendo dripping from his comment. “I noticed you doing shots at Reed’s party. I assumed you get drunk regularly, like the Rockstar Manual requires.”
“Actually, that was the last time I got shitfaced. It was Kendrick’s birthday. In my band, we always get shitfaced on each other’s birthdays. It’s not optional.”
“That was the last time you drank?”
“No. I’ll have a beer or whatever. But I won’t get drunk. I’ve got a rule I never ‘drown my sorrows.’ Drinking has to be about having fun for me. Otherwise, if I drink when I’m angry or upset in any way, I wind up being a huge asshole.” He shrugs. “Plus, I have to eat and drink fairly clean most of the time to keep myself in shape . . .” He lifts his shirt, haphazardly, momentarily revealing the jaw-dropping grooves in his abs. “Looking like this is a big part of the job. And I can’t do it, unless I stay disciplined and committed.”
I lift my eyebrows in surprise. “Huh. I think ‘Rockstar Cliché Bingo’ requires you to drink like a fish, especially to drown your sorrows. The last time I checked, there were no bingo squares labeled ‘eat clean and stay disciplined and committed to maintain abs of steel.’”
