Page 19 of Not Your Little Girl Anymore

Truthfully, I could come up with an excuse to turn around. It would be so easy to fake a phone call for a quick emergency meeting. To cover my tracks, I could… message the group to meet me back at the studio for practice. After all, I am in charge of Devil’s Riot. In the end, I call all the shots.

But like the idiot I am, I hold the door to Cold Brew Cafe open for Summer. Her shoulder brushes against mine, and the air in my lungs clogs my throat from the tiny contact.

What the fuck is going on with me?

I shove the odd feeling down, becoming frustrated, and I give her a tight smile before we make our way to the front counter and order two iced coffees, hoping she doesn’t notice.

Once the coffee is done, I wave my hand toward the round table in the far back. We both walk that way in silence, each sitting on opposite sides of each other.

“Do you always play punk-rock songs?” she asks, picking at her thumbnail before turning her head my way.

“Basically. It’s preferred.”

She nods, keeping her eyes on her cup. My eyes watch each move as she bends down, bringing her mouth to the straw. I dig my nails into my palm, hating the way my body is reacting to her plump lips wrapping around the straw and sucking.

I adjust myself in my seat in an attempt to make sure my erection isn’t noticeable, and then clear my throat. “You seem to take walks a lot.”

Her eyes narrow, but there’s no confusion on her face. It’s something else, and I can’t make sense of it.

“I’m glad the two encounters we’ve had have you assuming that I walk all the time.” Her tone is full of sarcasm, which has me laughing. “Honestly, it’s peaceful. I’d rather walk than fill the planet up with more toxic waste. It’s something I feel I have control over.”

Interesting.

“What makes you feel like you don’t have control?” I ask curiously.

She doesn’t answer right away, but when her mouth parts she doesn’t give me the answer I was looking for. Instead, she changes the subject. “How did you decide you wanted to play in a band? Or, well… own one, I think.”

I tilt my head, focusing on her. “Do you ever feel like you’re trapped in an alternate universe? Almost like the world is out to get you, leaving you alone.” I pause, waiting for her to respond.

“I feel like that often. More often than I should.”

A sense of remorse stabs me in the chest. I wonder what could possibly make her feel hollow inside. I don’t ask because it’s too soon to push for answers.

“Music. Playing. Singing. All of it helps me escape the fucked-up world I live in.”

“You live in?” she questions.

My spine straightens. “Well, the world isn’t all cupcakes and rainbows.”

She giggles, and I’m becoming increasingly mad at myself for wanting to hear her laugh again. “That’s obvious.” Silence falls between us for a beat, and then she adds, “What happened to you?”

The corner of my mouth curls up. “What happened to you? Besides your mom.”

She breathes in, and her nostrils flare for a split second. “That doesn’t exactly give me an answer.”

I shrug. “Nor did you give me an answer.”

She groans, scratching between her eyebrows and taking another sip of her coffee. “Maybe if you give me an answer, I’ll answer anything you want.”

I tilt my head. “I think we both know that’s a story for another time, Sunshine.”

A small smirk appears on her mouth but falls instantly as her eyes dart to mine. “Did you just call me Sunshine?”

“Yes.”

She watches me closely, then leans over the table. “Are you flirting?”

My tongue presses against the roof of my mouth, contemplating if I should continue the obvious flirting that she clearly enjoys or if I should change the subject.

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