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Bryn picks up the bottle and squints at the label. “Is this the house white? We can do better.”
He summons the waitress and I wonder if, last night, I was as flushed and awed as she is now. An accomplished waitress after five years working here, I bet Oriana doesn’t drop food on people.
“I think I’ll have the soup,” Bryn announces with a sly glance at me.
I dig my nails into his hand and he grips it harder.
What the hell is this man doing?
As I scramble to catch up with what’s happening, Bryn takes over, asking my friends to confirm their orders to the waitress and requests new bottles of wine. I stare at the hand covering my now sweaty one, and I’m about to say something when I take a closer look at Taylor’s and Martin’s reaction.
Shocked disbelief.
What? There’s no way someone like Bryn would be interested in me? Coming here tonight involved swallowing a lot of pride and facing more humiliation. Now Bryn’s arrived for whatever reason, the night has moved from painful to excruciating.
“Can I talk to you for a moment, please?” I ask Bryn.
“Am I in trouble? Is this about last night?”
I frown. “Last night?”
“You know, the thing… I can’t meet all your demands, you know. It’s tiring.” His brown eyes glint and his amusement is not helping.
“Okay!” I say and stand, shoving my chair back. “We need to talk.”
Bryn stands dwarfing me even in my three-inch heels, and gives the group a sigh and an expression that says ‘look at what I put up with.’ I grit my teeth and push Bryn towards a quiet corner of the restaurant. By push, I mean collide my palm with immovable, solid muscle beneath his smart black shirt. So more of a stroke, I guess.
There’s no place for complete privacy in the small restaurant so I huddle him into a corner between the kitchen doors and hallway to the bathrooms. We’re still in view of my friends and other diners. Some have politely returned to their meals, but Taylor continues to gawk. I hope Martin is comparing himself to Bryn and realising he doesn’t measure up.
It’s hard to admonish a man taller than me whose physical presence, unfortunately, is spinning my insides in circles. “What are you doing?” I whisper.
“I thought you needed moral support.”
My mouth drops open. “Moral support? By walking in and pretending we’re a couple? Are you mad?”
He smirks. “You clearly are.”
“Yeah, I’m pissed off. I mean are you insane?”
“No, it’s just a bit of fun, Avery.”
“You know nothing about me! What if they start asking questions? And why would anybody believe we were an item?”
Bryn crosses his arms, rings catching the light. “Am I not good enough for you? I have a decent job, excellent prospects—”
“You know what I mean,” I interrupt. “And stop teasing me!”
“There is no reason at all someone like me wouldn’t know someone like you. There’s no law stating who rock stars can spend time with.”
I snort because I can’t think of a comeback.
“Come on, you have to admit, this could be fun. Is Taylor the bitch? Her expression was priceless!” I pout at him and he pokes me. “I’m not leaving.”
“What?” I gasp.
“You’ll have to publicly dump me.”
“What?” I repeat.
