Page 378 of Rock Me All Night
13
It'sdifficult to concentrate with the sting of rejection spreading to my limbs. It's not as if we're anything, as if I have any right to expectations. Tom is sexy, rich, famous, adored. He has his pick of women, doesn't have any interest in a relationship. It's not going to happen.
I stay in my skimpy outfit. Hopefully, some male attention will nurse my wounded ego. Maybe my body will want one of the guys at the club. Maybe I'll finally break my dry streak and realize that sex is loads of fun.
Anything is possible.
The mood in the hallway is tense. Whatever Pete and Tom are discussing must be awful. They silence immediately. Pete nods a hello. Tom slides his arm around my waist then pulls it back to his side.
"Sorry," he mumbles then nods to the stairway. "Cab’s waiting in back."
Pete looks from me to Tom for a second. His expression is doubtful but he remains silent. I'm liking this silence thing. Saves me from making a fool of myself again.
We follow Tom down the narrow staircase and out the back door. The rain is no longer a mist. It's pouring. Within moments, my thin cotton top is soaked. The fabric clings to my skin. Picked the wrong day to skip a bra. At least this will be as painful for Tom as it is for me.
He takes one of the end seats.
Pete nods to the middle. "You want to take that or you want me to sit on Tom's lap?"
His attempt to defuse the tension fails miserably. My stomach tenses. Tom frowns, turning to face the window opposite us.
"I'll take it," I say. "I wouldn't want Hazel to get jealous."
"Any day now." Tom taps his fingers impatiently.
I slide into the middle seat. It's a tight fit. My thigh presses against his. There's no way to arrange my arms so they aren't touching Tom. I adjust my skirt and top so I'm as covered as possible. It makes little difference.
Pete takes his seat and slams the door shut. He gives the address to the friendly cab driver. Then we're off.
A bump sends me halfway out of my seat. The belt tugs against my lap. I grab onto the nearest thing to keep my balance. Turns out that's the thighs on either side of me. Now I'm groping two men at once. Maybe I can get two rejections at once. That will make this day even better.
Tom growls. He stares daggers at Pete's thigh. He's silent, of course. It's not like I'm trying to start a threesome back here.
I pull my hands back to my lap. But that does nothing to ease the tension in Tom's torso. He's still clenched, angry. I remind myself that his bad mood isn't my problem, that we are friends, and that friends communicate with each other instead of growling incoherently and pretending they didn't almost kiss.
"How long have you been a photographer, Willow?" Pete breaks the silence.
A distraction. Thank goodness. Tom shrugs his shoulders, shifting his gaze in my direction.
"I took it up in high school, but I didn't get serious until college." I play with my camera. "It was my major."
"Where did you go to school?"
"Berkley. I graduated in December. A semester early."
"Congrats. Can't do much better than working under Hazel Alexander."
"Thanks. She's amazing so far." I make eye contact with Pete. "I think she has a crush on you."
"Can't blame her. Everyone knows I'm the sexiest guy in Sinful Serenade."
"What are you basing that on?" I ask.
"Don't tell me you prefer someone else," Pete teases.
Tom jumps in. "Don't flirt with Willow."
Pete stares back at Tom. It's the kind of look that says volumes. It's not saying any of the volumes to me, but it must communicate something to them, because all talking ceases. Both men press their backs into their seats in silence.
