Next week can’t come soon enough.
8
Riot
1 week later…
I wrap my lips around the mouth of the lid of my to-go cup, sipping carefully on the piping-hot white mocha latte I picked up from theSalty Beansaround the corner. Back in the city, the sugar-filled concoction was an indulgence I’d allow at least once a month. But it wasn’t as addictive as this one.
Now, I grab a cup whenever I can’t stomach the break room coffee or when I’m having a particularly shitty day—which happens to be most of them. I’d probably need to worry about my waistline if I were consuming anything other than cigarette smoke and liquor, but luckily, that’s not the case.
I take a drag of my cigarette, then another sip, closing my eyes as notes of vanilla, white chocolate, and tobacco swirl together. The comforting flavor reminds me of all the times Rush and I would sit out on the balcony in the mornings, smoking, drinking our sugary little lattes, and writing songs.
As I think of my brother, the drink goes sour on my tongue. The darkness threatens to creep in, to drag me into its familiardepths. But then I remember I get to see Eloise today, and everything is sweet again.
A few minutes later, the shop bell rings, and in walks Eloise, carrying the light of the sun with her. Beautiful rays of gold seem to bounce off her cherry-blossom hair, bringing out the sky in her eyes.
“Hi,” I say, not trusting my voice to say any more.
“Hi, Riot.” Her cheeks flush, and she makes a point of checking out my dad tee of the day. Ever since that first day, I’ve made a point to wear silly shirts under my leather jacket—no matter how ridiculous I feel—because it’s often the only time I get to see her .
Today, I picked out the “world’s okayest guitar player,” and it seems to be a hit. Eloise’s pretty lips tip up into that rare expression of joy, and my heart feels like it’s going to combust.
“Ready to get started?” I ask, taking a small sip of my coffee to wet my increasingly dry throat.
Eloise follows me to the practice room, her pretty eyes locked on the cup in my palms. “You got Salty Beans? I’ve always wanted to try that place.”
Without thinking, I thrust the cup toward her. “Want some?”
“I… um… what is it?”
“White chocolate mocha. Only the best.” I jiggle it, and Eloise reaches toward me with a dubious expression. I gaze down at her hands as I pass it off, noticing her fingers covered in an array of white bandages. Some joints have dark brown spots, and panic constricts my chest.
“What the fuck happened to your hands?” I demand, my worry overtaking my need to maintain an air of professionalism. “Are you okay?”
Eloise’s eyes widen, and for a moment, the mask slips, allowing me to see the wealth of emotion hiding in her clearblue pools. “I… nothing.” She lowers her gaze, her face heating slightly. “Gardening. Rose bushes. Nasty things.”
Even though her explanation would make sense to another, I can’t shake the nagging suspicion in the back of my mind that it’s something else. Something far, far worse.
“Are you going to be okay to play today? We can always reschedule?—”
“No!” she says, shaking her head wildly. “No. I’ll be fine to play, I promise!”
I nod slowly. When she doesn’t say anything else, I gesture to the cup of coffee still clutched in her tiny palm. “Sorry I distracted you. Go on, have a sip. It’ll probably make your hands feel better.”
“A coffee will help with my cuts?”
“Uh, yeah. It’s common knowledge that anything good for the soul is also good for pain.”
Eloise raises the cup, taking a small whiff, and her eyes light up. “This smells… heavenly.” She takes a sip, and the sound that falls from her lips has my cock tightening.
“You can have the rest of it if you want.”You can have my soul if you’d make that noise again.
Eloise looks down at the cup in her palms, debating for a moment before ultimately handing it back. “I can’t. Way too many calories.”
I rake my eyes down her frame, trying not to salivate over her curves. I want to say something, to disagree, but I also know if she’s going through something serious—health issues or an eating disorder—that my comments will do more harm than good.
“Say no more.” I take the cup back, raising it to my lips and trying not to tremble at the knowledge that her lips were wrapped around the same surface a moment before.Jesus. Get it the fuck together, Riot.
