No.
I’m thinking about Annabelle.
Specifically, the way she keeps pretending she’s NOT checking on me every ten seconds.
She’s terrible at pretending.
Colby elbows me. “Dude. She’s eyeing you like you’re a bad decision she wants to rewrite.”
“Iama bad decision,” I say.
Dex leans forward with a shit-eating grin. “Yeah. Herfavoriteone.”
Annabelle hears that part.
She snaps her head around, gives us a death glare so potent I flinch. A tiny bit.
I wink.
She makes a strangled noise, and Dex immediately pounces.
“Come on, Annabelle,” he shouts over the music, “you’re staring at him like you’re trying to decode ancient runes.”
“I am not staring,” she fires back.
Colby laughs. “You’re staring. It’s okay. We support your journey.”
“I do not have a journey,” she says, voice sharp enough to cut steel.
Janie giggles from two seats down. “Sweetie, you’re sitting in the VIP pit at a sold-out concert with a man who looks like he was genetically engineered to ruin good decisions. It’s always a journey.”
“I’m here to supervise,” Annabelle insists. “And also enjoy the music. You boys love to make up stories in your heads.”
Mia leans forward and taps Annabelle’s arm. “No shame in enjoying the view though. We all do.”
Annabelle sputters. “I DO NOT...”
“...enjoy the view?” Harper finishes, smiling knowingly. “Sure, honey. Whatever you say.”
Annabelle folds her arms and glares at all of us like we’re a panel of unruly toddlers.
It’s adorable.
"Thank you, ladies. You know flattery will get you everywhere. Or is it, flattery will get me everywhere?" I chuckle.
A sharp, disbelieving laugh bursts out of her, and she mutters, "Unbelievable."
Perfect. I think she likes me.
A few minutes later the lights drop. The crowd shrieks. Lola McRae hits the stage in a blast of gold glitter and screaming fans.
Annabelle jumps like a firecracker.
“This is FINE,” she yells over the music. “Everything is CONTROLLED.”
“You’re yelling,” I shout back.
“I AM NOT YELLING.”
