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Ashe pulls it open when I get there, bowing mockingly, and I ignore him as I walk on through, stepping into a black-floored lobby with dim, atmospheric lights and a hostess stand sitting on the other end of a long black rug.
The two boys follow me, with Ashe going straight to the hostess and saying something to her that I don’t bother trying to hear.
“This is fancy,” I say, looking at the artistic, eclectic chandeliers and half walls that provide the section’s privacy. “I feel underdressed.”
“You’re fine,” Isaac says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his unzipped hoodie. We’re dressed similarly, with both of us wearing jeans, hoodies, and t-shirts in varying shades of black and gray. We look pitiful next to Ashe, in his blazer and dress pants, or like he brought us in off the streets.
Though, that’s not too far from the truth. He did kind of bring us here when the two of us would’ve gone to somewhere like IHOP or the Waffle House.
Not that I would’ve minded. I enjoy greasy food, and I could’ve taken home leftovers to eat while watching some horror movies at my apartment for the rest of the day.
The hostess gathers a few menus, and at a jerk of Ashe’s chin, we follow him to a nearly empty section. When the hostess gestures to a booth, we go to sit, though before I can slide in next to Isaac, Ashe grabs me and pulls me to his side, pushing me into the booth and sitting next to me to cage me in. His leg moves to press against mine, his arm doing the same, and when I look at him in surprise, he smirks as his blue eyes glitter.
“Maybe I am a little jealous,” he says finally as the hostess strolls away. “MaybeIwant a little time to see what noises I can have you making as well.”
“We’re in public,” I say again, bringing up my prior, simple argument. “What are you going to do? Fuck me while we eat lunch? In the booth? Or shall we go to the bathroom?”
“Don’t give me ideas,” Ashe purrs, his hand moving so he can grip my thigh with his long fingers. He stops my shaking knee with force, pressing down until I have no choice but to be still. “Are you anxious?” he asks, a note of concern on his face. “Is that why you’re doing this?”
He’s perceptive, and I hate it. Well, not really, but it feels weird to have both of them scrutinizing me over a long-ingrained habit and something I don’t notice anymore. Not to mention, he’s right. It’s anervoushabit and only comes about when I’m anxious or worried about something.
Though this time, it’s just the two of them and everything they stand for that has me nervous.
“I…” Biting my lip, I clear my throat to get a hold of myself. “I’m fine. It’s just been a bit of a day, okay? That’s all.”
“Hmmm.” Ashe doesn’t appear to believe me, and his hand strokes from my knee to my hip almost…comfortingly. Of all things, Ashe does not strike me as acomfortingperson, and it feels a bit like a trap.
“Areyou upset? Anxious? Nervous?” Isaac lists off the synonyms with his own worried, creased brow. “Was it too much?”
“No,” I sigh and rest my elbow on the table, my chin going to my palm. “There’s nothing wrong with me, other than…well. The whole depression and anxiety thing, obviously. So yeah, I am anxious. But Ilivebeing anxious. It’s not really anything you guys have done.”
They trade a look that I’m not sure I like before Ashe resumes his petting of my leg.
“Well, maybe we don’t like that for you,” he murmurs, his voice rough and just the right amount of a purr.
“Cool. I don’t like it for me either. But if you tell me to try yoga, or pilates, ordeep breathing, I’m going to punch you in the face.” When he meets my eyes, my brows rise at the challenge of my own words. “Seriously.Try me.”
“Why would I tell you to try shit like that? You’re what? Twenty-something?”
“Twenty-five.”
“I’m sure you’ve tried your share of deep breathing, meditation, yoga, and whatever else.”
Meditation. I’d forgotten to listmeditationon my count of things I’ve tried and that don’t work for me. At this point, I have to wonder if they work foranyone.
“Why don’t you try something else, darling girl?”
I shouldn’t ask. Ireallyshouldn’t ask since he has that look on his face that promises me, I will absolutely regret asking what he means.
But curiosity killed the cat, and with my mouth already partway open, I guess I should slap ears and a tail on and start meowing.
“Like what? Murder? Dismemberment?”
“If you want. Ezra thinks those things are pretty relaxing. But he’s a psychopath, and I doubt you would react the same way,” he trails off thoughtfully, and I can’t help but be hyper-aware of his hand on my leg. “Let me think about it. Because currently, the only thing Icanthink of is bringing you to my apartment, tying you down, and fucking the nerves right out of you.”
“That’s not how it works. And suggesting meditation would’ve been less stupid,” I deadpan after a moment, half-tempted to chase his hand away from where it’s still on my damn thigh.
“It wouldn’t work if I washasty,” Ashe disagrees, his smile wolfish. “But I’m not. I’ve wanted to take you apart fordays. It’d probably be therapeutic.”
