Page 386 of Rock Me All Night
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Iwake up flushedand wanting. Nothing helps. Not swimming laps. Not a cold shower. Not an egg sandwich and a massive cup of dark roast coffee. Even avoiding the band is a hollow victory.
When I can't come up with an excuse for why I, the lowly photographer's assistant, am the one holding up the drive to Seattle, I get my ass to the bus.
Only I'm not holding up anything. Tom is the only one here.
His eyes connect with mine. "Where the fuck have you been?"
"Out."
"I called you ten times." He folds his arms over his chest. "Next time try picking up your God damn phone."
"Why? It's not like you were worried."
"Who says I wasn't?"
"I found a pool and went swimming."
"Just tell me next time." He pulls his hoodie over his head and closes his eyes. "God damn, it's bright in here."
Someone steps onto the bus. Miles.
"Pretty sure that's called a hangover." He looks at Tom with a smug expression. "Thought you were above hangovers, Sticks."
"Fuck off," Tom growls.
"Thought that hangovers were a sign you couldn't handle your shit. That you were out of control," Miles says.
"You want to do this now?" Tom glares at Miles. "Cause I've got a fucking laundry list to back up my case. It's starts with Ativan and ends with Ecstasy."
"Ecstasy doesn't start with an X." Miles nods hello. "How are you doing, Willow?"
"Fine." I glance at Tom. "Xanax starts with an X. But those are both prescription anti-anxiety meds." I swallow hard. The therapist at my boarding school was particularly aggressive with medication. I'm sure the drugs help other people, but I hated feeling like I was living under a cloud.
"Sweet of you to help Tom make his argument." Miles looks me in the eyes. "Bring anybody back to your place last night or stuck hanging with Tom and Pete? Although... Wouldn't be a bad man sandwich if you're into that kinda thing. At least if you can get most of it from Pete and not Tom."
"A man sand—" Oh God, he means a threesome.
"Wouldn't that be a girl sandwich?" Tom asks. "The girl is in the middle. You don't call a pastrami on rye a rye sandwich."
Miles nods, accepting his point. "You and Pete ever tag team a girl?"
"Fuck off."
Light floods the bus as Miles flips open the blinds. Tom glares daggers at him.
"Didn't realize it was a sore subject." Miles laughs. "More sore for the lucky lady."
God help me, there's something appealing about the idea of the two of them at once. Maybe I fell on my head and woke up a sex maniac. That would explain the sudden influx of lust in my veins.
"Pete? Seriously. He's only ever been with Cindy," Toms says. "And don't talk about him like that."
"You ever listen to the man go at it on the phone? The shit that comes out of his mouth makesmeblush. Bet he can get a girl off without even touching her."
"Isn't that the point of phone sex?"
"But without her touching herself."
