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In a desperate attempt to ignore this niggly feeling I can’t quite pinpoint, I clasp my hand on his belt buckle and welcome a quick ‘hello’ before heading out to dinner.
“Milly!” Flynn bangs loudly on the door, calling my name. “You wanna head out for something to eat?”
It’s enough to kill the moment, the two of us pulling away with gentle laughter. I quickly fix my blouse as Liam adjusts his pants.
“Let’s go before he goes on a hunger rampage.”
We head into the living room, engaging in small chit-chat with the band and invite them out. They are keen, laughing like boys as we head out into the foyer in a group. I grab the keys and my cell off the table, following the boys outside. The second my foot is out the door, my body stops abruptly when my eyes meet Wesley’s.
Fuck.
I’m not one to be so vulgar with my vocabulary, but this is definitely a fuck moment. I can’t breathe, my chest is so tight. I’m pretty certain it’s going to cut off my airway and kill me right now.
He’s standing against the banister, arms folded, staring at me with savage eyes. The bandmates continue to make noise down the stairwell as Flynn hollers something crude before yelling my name.
“C’mon, Mills, I’m fucking starving,” Flynn yells, bounding down the stairs, quickly looking at Wesley with confusion.
“Um… hold on. I’ll follow you there.”
Liam is waiting for me, watching the two of us back and forth. I’m not sure what to say. Okay, more like what the hell is happening?
“Wesley, nice to see you.” My expression is professional, smile intact with a polite greeting. “This is Liam. We’re all heading out to dinner. Everyone’s starving, so I suggested the Chinese place around the corner. I tell you what, their Peking duck is mouthwatering…”
My nervous ramble slows down as Wesley’s expression doesn’t change, he’s paralyzed with anger. He hasn’t moved an inch, nor said a word, standing eerily still in his designer ripped jeans, black tee, and Adidas sneakers. I hate that he looks so sexy.
Liam extends his hand, waiting patiently for Wesley, who shakes it moments later. “So, you’re a friend of Milly’s.”
“If you say so.”
“Okay, so we better head off… unless you want to join us?”
Wesley smirks, dismissing Liam’s respectful tone. A far cry from his jealous stance when I mentioned Charlie’s name earlier. “Sure, why not.”
It’s the most awkward five-minute walk around the block. I spend most of the time staring at the pavement, occasionally engaging in idle chit-chat, and the moment I see the place, I breathe a huge sigh of relief, slipping inside to the table and sitting beside Flynn. Then, I realize it means Wesley and Liam will have to sit next to each other.
With much reluctance, I swap seats so Liam’s next to Flynn, and I’m piggy in the middle.
After a quick introduction between Flynn, the bandmates, and Wesley, we order food and throw ourselves into random conversations. Liam and Flynn talk about music and life back home, distracted as they reminisce about old times while Wesley sits in silence.
I lean forward, playing with my napkin and whispering into the dessert menu that I purposely raise to cover my face. “You didn’t say you’d be back.”
“It’s amazing what you can come back to without warning.”
“Wesley…” I continue with a low voice, “… let me explain, later.”
Mrs. Ling brings out the dishes, sizzling with steam coming off the plates. There’s the famous duck, egg rolls, classic orange chicken, and something that looks rather questionable.
We each serve ourselves before Liam decides to open the conversation. “How do you know each other?”
I’m quick to jump in, praying that Wesley doesn’t say anything about our encounters. “Work. Wesley and Emerson run a business, so we only hang out for business stuff.” The lie travels nicely and dissolves into my talk about Emerson’s new line until Wesley opens his mouth. “I wouldn’t say just business,” he mutters with a trace of sarcasm.
“Hey, now I know where I’ve seen you from. You played guitar with Hanlon Marx.” Flynn is oblivious to the back-and-forth tension going on with a mouthful of duck and pointing his fork at Wesley.
“You play guitar?” I ask rather loudly. “How did I not know that?”
“I thought you said you only discuss business,” Liam voices with a jealous bite.
I backtrack through my words, anxiety building from this awkward meal setting. “Yes, Wesley is in the media a fair bit, and I read an article on Emerson and um…”
