Page 22 of Our Elliana

Tristan straightens in his seat and glares down his nose at Jackson as if he’s low-born or something. “No time. We have presentations to make and patrons to serve.”

Now it’s Jackson who scoffs.

“Presentations to make and patrons to serve...” He imitates Tristan’s deeper voice and more somber delivery, then peers from the chef to Noah and me. “Well, la dee fucking da. Must be rough doing all that work with how far that stick is lodged up your ass.”

Tristan’s scowl darkens into a glower, and I’m quick to pin Jackson with another query to keep from derailing this train altogether. If looks could kill, the guitarist would be dead.

“Do you have a band?”

Jackson shrugs as if he didn’t just take his life in his own hands. “Eh, I’ve been in a few. None have stuck, though.” He edges his chin upward and locks his gaze onto me, his lips curving up on one side. “Can I ask you one yet?

“Fire away.”

“Most untraditional place you’ve had sex.”

Yeah, him going that way doesn’t surprise me. However, I have the option of answering whichever way I want as long as I’m honest.

“A tree.”

All three of the guys gape at me, and Jackson chuckles through his follow-up. “Can you explain?”

“The house I grew up in had this massive magnolia tree in the front yard with branches that were perfectly spaced for climbing. I spent half my childhood in that thing. Then, as a teenager, I quit climbing it as often, but I had this fantasy about fucking in it. I’d lost my virginity a few months before to my high school boyfriend, and I talked him into climbing up there to give it a try.”

“Did he give it a try?” Jackson prompted.

“He did. And he succeeded, though I didn’t come. It’s hard to get into sexy times when you have to balance just right.”

His grin flows from ear to ear.

“That’s incredible. Awesomeness squared.”

I take a little bow. “Why thank you.”

“And you know I would’ve gotten you off up there.”

The guitarist would’ve. He flat out would’ve.

“All right, lightning round.” I clap my hands. “I’ll ask a simple question that requires only a one-word answer, and we’ll go around the table with each one, all of us have to respond. Ready?” I don’t wait to see if they are, I just go for it and turn toward Noah. “Pets or no pets?”

“Pets.”

“Either,” Tristan says.

“Pets,” is Jackson’s reply.

“Pets,” I echo. “Favorite season?”

Noah and Jackson say “Fall,” while Tristan and I both react with, “Spring.”

“Pie or cake?”

Noah responds with, “Pie,” while Jackson barges in on Tristan’s answer by saying the same thing, “Yes.”

They each look stunned to have something in common, but I’m glad, even if it’s this minor. This’ll never work if the four of us can’t get along.

“I love both too, but cake is my favorite. Especially ice cream cake.”

Having learned more than I bargained for, we go about our own pursuits for the rest of the day.

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