Page 65 of Reverb
Adrian snorted. “A photo of Mish launching you into the pool was posted about a minute and a half after you two hit the water.”
She’d figured that would happen. “Let me guess, ‘Boy Toy Toss’?”
“Oh, nothing so clever.” Adrian made no move to grab his phone. She’d left hers up in her room. David frowned.
She poked him. “You’re not upset, are you?”
His expression lightened. “God, no. Just contemplating ‘Boy Toy’ at my age.” A falter in his expression gave away that there was more. She cocked her head. “I wonder how well that’s going to go over.”
She didn’t have to ask with who. Her fucking damn stalker.
He caught her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “This afternoon was some of the most fun I’ve had in years. It’s...” He glanced around at the rest of their group. “I’m usually alone. Not part of the group.”
“Welcome to Twisted Wishes,” Zavier murmured. He was a table away, but of course David heard. They all had.
“We’re kind of a strange land,” Ray said. He ran a hand through his wet locks. “And tumultuous, but we’re fun.”
David’s fingers tightened around Mish’s and she wasn’t sure if the thrumming was her pulse or his. His dark eyes were steady when they met Ray’s. “Thanks for inviting me.”
And that was the moment, Mish realized, when David finally acceptedthem.
Dinner that evening was apparently what Ray liked to call “busting out of jail.” David learned that this particular tradition had started during their fateful tour as Five Asylum’s opening act. That had been the tour where Ray’d nearly died.
After he’d returned from the hospital, they’d desperately needed to get out of the hotel where they’d been holed up for days—so the band had walked out, no holds barred, to have dinner at a swank restaurant.
That night had turned into a reoccurring event where all of Twisted Wishes dressed up and headed out on the town, as if they owned the world.
They weren’t even the biggest act in the States, and the band knew that, but Marcella chimed in that they’d gained a lot of respect from that defiant act years ago now, and it was as much of a treat for any fans they met as it was for the band.
This time, Adrian, Marcella, and David were coming with them.
David was taken aback. “You mean, you just...show up at a place?” He’d sputtered that, much to his chagrin, when they’d told him about their plans at the poolside bar.
“Yes, exactly.” Zavier’s smile was wicked, and David realized he was being teased. Zav seemed to get a kick out of doing that to his friends, which was both heartwarming and fuckingannoying.
“I don’t suppose I could talk you all out of it?” David asked.
“Nope.” That from Ray. “Not a chance in the world.”
So they were heading back to their rooms to shower off the chlorine and put on their Twisted Wishes best, which for David was going to be...trying. “I have no fucking clue what to wear,” he muttered. “God, you people.”
He’d hadn’t thought much beyond “security guard for a rock band” when he’d packed. So denim. Black T-shirts. The usual. He had one button-down, but that was at the bottom of his laundry bag.
Mish slid a hand up his spine that set every nerve of his on fire. “Need my help?”
He started at her touch and tamped the sudden shock of desire down. “Yeah, maybe.” If anyone could pull together an outfit for him out of his sorry wardrobe, it was Mish. Though it might prove too much for even her.
Dom chuckled from the rear of the elevator. “Careful, or she’ll have you in smoky eyes and lipstick.”
David laughed at that. Might be interesting to see what he looked like in makeup now. But no. “Not really my thing.”
“That’s fine.” Mish stroked his back again. “I’m sure we can find something.”
When the elevator reached his floor, he and Marcella exited for their rooms. A half hour later, David was surprised to find Mish at his door. For some reason, he’d figured she’d take longer than that to shower and dress, but no. She strode in on red boots that made his mouth water, and a black-and-white dress that clung to every one of her curves. Her hair was down, and she carried a clutch purse in one hand and what looked like a mini tackle box in the other.
His gaze lingered on the box. “What’s that?”
“Makeup.” He met her gaze, a trickle of fear slipping through his mind. She stuck out her tongue at him. “For me, not you, doofus.”
