Page 5 of Don't Bang a Bandmate

“What?” I ask.

Bronson shifts in his seat, taking his back off the wall and facing me, his thick hands folded on the table. “Do you want to go upstairs?” he asks again.

“With you?”

“Yes.”

“You mean, like... share an elevator?”

“No.”

I squint. “You wanna watch a movie or something?”

His lips twitch. “No.”

“Then...” I lean forward, trying to read his expression; a mixture of amusement and… flirtation?

Is Bronson flirting with me?

“You want me to go upstairs with you for...”

I stop there, letting him fill in the blank.

“Sex,” he says, the word so simple. So obvious.

I lurch back, swiftly bashing myself against the seat.“Sex?”I repeat.

He nods.

“You… want to have sex with me?” I ask.

“I’m asking if you want to go upstairs and have sex, yes.”

I stare at him. “Bronson, are you drunk?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very.”

“Then, why?” I ask, taking a breath as I realize I’ve stopped breathing. “Why would you ask me if I wanted to…”

He smiles, his brown eyes soft and friendly. “Because you look like you could use a break.”

“I don’t. I’m good. I’m...” I stutter as I pat my planner. “I’m doing just fine over here.”

He peeks at it. “Are you sure?”

“Very.”

Bronson stares at me for a moment, his hooded eyes seemingly unbothered by the rejection. “All right,” he says.

He slides out of the booth.

“Thank you, though,” I say, my voice a little too high. “Really, I’m flattered. I appreciate the offer, Bronson. I really do.”

He nods.

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