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“I’m going to shoot my shot, and continue to shoot it. She may be a baby chick, but I was informed today that Layla could also kill me in my sleep if she decided to,” I tell them. “I enjoy living on the edge. She could be just what I need.”
“Your ideas on what makes an acceptable partner are really disturbing,” Atlas rumbles. “The girl I know is scared of bugs and very coddled. There’s no way she’d tell you that or that she can handle you.”
“I think the baby chick has changed over the last five years.” I frown. I haven’t seen evidence of a coddled, incapable girl in the last couple of days. The way they talk about Layla is starting to chafe at me. “She said her sister and her husbands taught her how to shoot a gun and take care of herself.”
“The little Valkyrie is a damn warrior,” Mav chuckles. “I can believe that Lennon can do all of that. I haven’t seen much change in Layla to be honest.”
I feel really uncomfortable with this conversation. My friends are usually fair, even when they’re assholes. I don’t like the way they’re talking about her.
“Besides, Layla has a boyfriend,” Atlas reminds me. “She doesn’t seem like the type of girl who would agree to be shared, and I know how you feel about cheating.”
I hate cheaters. Despise them. “I have a feeling you don’t know anything about Layla anymore, so making assumptions isn’t helping anyone,” I tell them.
Arriving at the radio station office, I end the conversation as we step inside. I have some things to think about. All I know is that the little chick is interesting and I want her.
The next few hours pass by in a whirlwind, and I’m bored to tears by the last interview. Layla sags against Tyler, groaning as we drive to the station.
“All I want is a nap,” she whimpers.
“I’d love to say you’re being overdramatic, but I’m right there with you,” Atlas groans.
“This is the last one,” Kyle reassures us. “I decided to have them all packed into today, so that you can practice leading up to the show. Layla, you may want to do something to perk yourself up, though, because I promised them you’d play a song or two.”
I stare down Kyle, annoyed that he’d make that call. She’s sung at the last two interviews with very little sleep. I really hate this man.
Layla stands with a sigh, and Tyler shakes his head. “I’ll make you coffee, Baby. You’re doing all the heavy lifting today, Lay. I got this,” he says gently, pulling her back to the chair.
I watch as he gets up to make her coffee, and I study how in tune he is with her. Tyler really is good for her. Leaning in toward Layla I tell her, “You’ve been smashing today, little chick. Let’s play a game.”
Chuckling tiredly, she drops her head back. “Hit me with it, Draven. Please help me stay awake until I get a caffeine boost,” Layla says.
“If you could eat anything after this, what would you choose?” I ask. This is a barely veiled attempt for me to get to know her, and Mav snorts.
“God, I’m really craving moo shu pork,” Layla groans as the coffee machine gets to work. “I wonder if there’s anything close by or on the way back.”
Tyler immediately pulls out his phone, glancing at me in surprise and appreciation. I feel bad about this morning, but drugs in some form are just part of the music world. I don’t havea problem with picking it up or dropping them cold turkey. I’m not Lyrica, and never plan to be.
My addictive personality is tied up in other things: like the pretty woman who is currently dreaming about Chinese food.
“There’s a restaurant around the corner from where we’re headed with decent reviews, Lay,” Tyler confirms. “I’ll order for everyone a few minutes before you’re done, so we can just pick it up. Airdrop me your orders.”
We all do that while Kyle texts people on his phone. I don’t know what this man actually does for us, because Jordan would have jumped at making sure we were taken care of.
The next interview moves the way the last few have, and Layla sings her heart out for the station. My fingers itch to play with her. It’s been too long since I’ve performed, and I loved jamming out with the little chick. Even though she was hesitant…
I find myself frowning as we walk out. Atlas did push her hard to give us what she’s working on. Layla shouldn’t be so worried about what we’ll think about her words. While they were personal and obviously about the shit heads, they would never make fun of her for it.
Song lyrics are words your soul is screaming to have a voice. They’re sacred.
“Freedom!” Layla yells as she climbs the stairs to the bus. My lips twitch as I follow her, shaking my head.
“It’s been a long fucking day,” I agree. I can’t stop thinking about how pouty her lips are or how they may look smeared with my cum. I’m done fighting my attraction, even if I’m not ready to admit it to her.
As we drive to pick up the food and head back to the hotel, it’s almost nine at night. None of us can wait, and Kyle bounced after he saw us safely back on the bus, so we tear into our food.
“I just want to eat and then head right to bed,” Layla sighs. Her lips wrap around her moo shu pork stuffed tortillas and my cock makes a point to thicken in my pants. Food and Layla may be permanently twined together in my spank bank.
I wonder how deep she and Tyler sleep? Being in the same room as her means that it’ll take an act of God to keep me out.
