Page 418 of Rock Me All Night
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The music is throbbing. Much too loud for conversation. Thank God, because there's no way I can get any words out of mouth besideswhat the hell am I doing here?
I get it. We're just friends. But that doesn't mean I want to watch Tom pick out his next sexual partner.
I'm going to throw up.
I adjust my cocktail dress. It's the sexiest thing I own—tight, short, low-cut enough to show off my chest piece and my cleavage. Not that I got dressed thinking of what would make Tom reconsider.
All the guys are here. I need to keep up my poker face or I'll quickly become the band's new pity project.
At least we're secluded in the VIP area. Traveling with rock stars has its perks. I cross and uncross my legs but nothing helps me get comfortable. These drinks are taking forever.
Tom plops on the couch next to me. His leg presses against mine, the rough fabric of skinny jeans sending shivers of electricity up my spine.
Miles holds up his cell phone to show off the time. Midnight. "There you go, Sticks. You survived. Six weeks. Let's take bets on how long he'll last. Who wants thirty seconds?"
"I'll take thirty seconds." Pete looks at me, staring through me, checking if I'm okay. My poker face must be pretty strong because he turns back to Miles with a light voice. "But we can't trust the honor system. Who's volunteering to watch and time it?"
Tom flips his brother off. "Can I get in on this?"
"Seems fair." Miles turns to me. "You have a guess? Ladies shouldgofirst, but I doubt Tom will manage that today."
"Uh..." I uncross and cross my legs. Anything to stem the heat building between them. How can my body be raring to go when my heart is ready to give out? My knee brushing against Tom's does nothing to help the situation.
"Price is Rightrules,or closest?" Drew asks.
"Closest." Miles pulls a hundred dollars out of his wallet and slams it on the table. "I'll give him two minutes." He looks Tom in the eyes. "Don't say I never speak highly of you."
A cocktail waitress arrives with our drinks. Club soda for Miles. A bottle of whiskey and mixers to be shared between everyone else.
Tom pours whiskey on the rocks for him, Pete, and Drew and slides the glasses across the table. He looks at me. "You want one, kid?"
"Please don't call me that," I say.
Tom stares at me with this regret in his eyes. Fuck him and his regret. He's the one running away from this.
I adjust my top for maximum cleavage potential and stare back at Tom. "Whiskey and diet please."
"Since when do you drink?" Drew's expression gets intense and protective.
I shrug as if drinking is something I do all the time.
He and Miles share a knowing look.
"All right." Drew takes a long sip of his whiskey. "I'll stay for one drink, then I'm going to bed. Tom, I'm counting on you to make sure Wil doesn't get drunk."
"That's weak delegating," Miles says. "I'm hurt."
"You too." Drew turns from Miles to Tom. "Just, I know which of you three is usually the instigator."
"You in or not?" Miles asks.
"This is disgusting," Drew says.
"Not hearing ano." Miles makes the money gesture with his thumb and forefinger. "Come on, hundred bucks an entry." He looks at me. "I'll even pay for Willow's entry if she's interested."
"Uh..." I take a long, long sip of my whiskey and diet. It mostly tastes of cola and artificial sweetener.
