“We can’t go in there,” she says, dropping my hand as we approach the door.
“Why not?”
Her lips thin into a flat line. “Look how you’re dressed!”
I inspect myself. Yeah, I’m a little overdressed for a pizza pub, but so what? “You said I looked nice this morning.” Actually, she said I was hot as fuck, then mumbled something about a cat, and I don’t think it was Cinnamon she was referring to.
She growls, making my brows shoot to my hairline. Waving a frustrated hand over me, she says, “Yeah! You’re too hot to go in there—anywhere, really. Let’s just go back to the room and order food.” She turns to leave, but I curl my arm around her waist, drawing her into my body.
“Afraid you’re gonna have to fight for me?” I tease. She’s fucking got me, she knows that, right? Playing this game with her is fun. I don’t care if I lose.
“Yes,” she admits, taking me off guard. “I already had to run one off. This is a pub. There’s going to be tipsy females just dying to be railed by the hot rock star in a tailored suit.”
I chuckle, but her face is dead serious. There’s no way she believes she has competition. Ellie is a lot of things, and insecure isn’t one of them.
My brows pinch together as I consider other possibilities for her not wanting to go inside, then it hits me. The worry in her eyes isn’t for girls. It’s for me.
For my sobriety.
It’s not like it’s a bar or club. It’s a pizza place, but the music is loud; we can hear it from the street, so it’s more lively than an Applebee’s or some other restaurant.
I never said I was giving up drinking for good. Beer helps me relax, as does weed, and I’m not giving up my Mary Jane. I really would snap. But I need boundaries. There’s a time and a place, and I have to remember that before my vices become crutches. It’s best if I steer clear of everything right now, until my head is straight again.
“It’s ok, Ellie,” I assure her.
Her eyes scan my face, full of concern. I want to kiss her, show her how much it means to me that she cares like this, but if I do that, I won’t want to stop. And regardless of my teasing her, I’m trying to hold back for her sake. So she knows she’sworth the wait.
“Ok, but fair warning, I don’t have my knife on me.” She holds up two small fists. “I do have these, and I will use them if I have to.”
The thought of her getting violently territorial over me has blood rushing to my dick.
59
ELLIE
“Tellme something I don’t know about you, May,” Travis says, tossing back his third slice of pizza.
I tap my lip in thought. I’m an open book, honestly. “I don’t know. I feel like you know a lot.” Our previous fling was fast, but there were many times we shared deep conversations in the dark. Sometimes we were drunk or high off an edible, though, so maybe he doesn’t remember those times, but they’re sacred to me.
“There has to be something.”
“Well, I used to be the goodest girl.”
“Oh, you still are,” he deadpans.
I laugh. “I’m serious. In school—before Mr. Shrimp Dick,” I add and his jaw tightens. “I was very studious. I had perfect attendance and excellent grades. I never skipped class or did anything crazy. He was my first taste of rebellion.” I don’t blame him. I was a willing participant, and I like who I am now, despite his attempts to ruin me. I just hope his other victims bounced back.
I twirl my straw around my glass. He remains silent, andthe tension climbs. He’s angry for me, but he doesn’t need to be.
“Wanna hear about my dream?” I ask, wanting to lighten the mood.
He nods.
“I was eating a donut off your dick.”
He coughs around a bite of food. “Fucking hell.” He chokes, clearing his throat. “Are you serious?”
“Deadass.”
