Page 29 of Crave You

“No thanks. I’m staying just down the road,” he says.

“Well, I guess we’ll see you Tuesday then,” I put in.

“Oh, I might dig your song out,” Christian says.

“Oh no,” I laugh, feeling my face flushing.

“Your song?” Zander says.

“Years ago, when the band first started up, Christian wrote a song about me,” I say.

“Really?” Zander says, one eyebrow raised. I instantly know that mentioning it was a mistake. That dark energy is back buzzing between the three of us, but Christian doesn’t notice it and he carries on as if nothing has changed.

“What’s it called this song?” Zander asks a dangerous tone in his voice.

“Dreaming Of My Lover,” Christian says. “It’s about—”

“It’s about my girl,” Zander almost shouts over him. “And you trying to lay some sort of a claim on her.”

“No,” I say quickly. “It’s not like that. It’s a song about friendship.”

“Sure it is,” Zander says. “That’s why it is called “Dreaming Of My Lover” and not “Dreaming Of My Friend”.”

“You okay?” Christian’s tone is light, but his gaze is stony.

Zander strides up to him. “Fine. You?”

“Maybe you should come along alone on Tuesday,” Christian says to me. “Or bring Erin. I’m dying to meet her.”

That is the wrong thing to say, and I know it. Before I can try to defuse the situation. Zander has Christian pressed up against the wall.

“Sure about that?” Zander growls

“Zan,” I say, my voice wavering as I touch his arm. “It’s fine. Please.”

Christian manages a weak smile. “Yeah Zander, it’s fine.”

“Oh yeah?” Zander growls.

I swallow watching the cruel expression forming on his face.

Before Christian can respond, Zander punches him in the face.

Christian groans and Zander punches him again.

“Zander!” I cry.

But if he heard me, he shows no sign of it – punching and kicking Christian. Christian lands one punch, but that only throws Zander into a worse fury, punching and kicking while I grab him.

He shakes me off easily.

“Zander, please!” I cry, trying again.

Now Christian is on the ground, and Zander is kicking him, shrugging me off easily, as he says, “Don’t” – a kick – “Ever” – another – “Touch” -another- “What’s mine” – another – “Again.”

When he takes out the knife, I lose it.

“No!” I throw my whole weight against him, sending both of us toppling.

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