Behind Your Back - Cameron Chelsea M. - Страница 36

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“Lo, who of course you met, Sadie, Beck and her boyfriend JR, and Ilsa and her girlfriend Amelia.” I know all of these names already, which will come in handy when I meet these people. I’ve seen pictures as well, so this should be a breeze.

“You sure you’re up to this? I’m pretty much throwing you to the lions.” If I can handle the boys, I can handle this, but I can’t tell her that.

“Your friends are my friends,” I say, holding the door of the BMW open for her.

“You say that now, but you haven’t spent an evening with them.”

“Well, if it starts going south I’ll just pretend I have an ulcer and have to go home.” She laughs and I put on my seatbelt.

Instead of a trendy club, we head to a laid back bar. A country band does their thing in the corner, but it’s not too loud so you can’t carry on a conversation over the music. It’s all wood and honky-tonkish in here. More cowboy boots and spurs than techno and strobe lights.

“We always try a different bar. We’re determined to have a drink at every single one in the city,” Saige says when I raise my eyebrows at the location. “We’ve been avoiding this place for obvious reasons.” A few dudes wearing actual cowboy hats walk by and Saige laughs as we walk up to the second floor loft that overlooks the first floor.

Female arms tug her away from me immediately and sweep her up into various embraces. Once she’s let go, she drags me over.

“Everyone, this is Quinn. Quinn, this is Lo, who you’ve met, Amelia, Isla, JR, Beck and Sadie.” I shake hands with everyone, and Lo gives me a little smirk before she lets go. Saige has an interesting mix of friends. Sadie and Beck are both upper crust socialites but the rest aren’t. Usually that mix of people doesn’t work, but clearly they seem to get along anyway.

I grab two high chairs for Saige and me and we join the table.

“What are you drinking, Quinn?” JR says as he gets up to make a bar run.

“Uh, shot of Jack and a Bud Light,” I say and he gives me a thumbs up before taking Saige’s order. She smiles at me.

“I’ll have the same.” That makes Lo laugh as she sips her drink, which is pink and orange. I’ll bet anything it’s a Sex on the Beach.

“You trying to get wasted, Saige?” Lo says. Saige shrugs.

“Maybe. You got a problem with that?”

“Absolutely not.” Lo stares at me and I know she’s remembering the first time she barged in on us. And I’m sure Saige has told her every sordid detail of our relationship. If she thinks I’m ashamed or embarrassed that she knows that about me, she’s got another thing coming.

“So, Quinn, where do you work?” Beck says. She’s dressed like she should be going to a fancy cocktail party and not slumming it at a bluegrass bar. Her warm brown hair is twisted back tight, there are pearls in her ears and her pink shirt is drenched in luxury.

“Uptown,” I say with a smile.

“Quinn spends other people’s money,” Saige says, squeezing my arm.

Beck smiles.

“That must be nice.”

“Sometimes. But it’s much worse making a mistake with someone else’s money than your own.”

“Money, schmoney,” Lo says, waving that topic off. “What do you do with your spare time?” What is with everyone’s obsession with my spare time? I flash her a smile.

“I read and run and collect cars.” That’s a safe enough answer. Her blonde eyebrows raise. Must have surprised her.

JR comes back with our drinks and I hold my shot up to Saige. She grabs hers.

“Bottoms up,” I say and we both tap our shot glasses on the table before downing them. The whiskey burns while it goes down and I relish the feeling. To her credit, Saige does the whole thing without even a cough.

I chase the shot with a swig of beer and she does the same.

“Bravo,” I say and she laughs.

“This isn’t my first rodeo.”

I seize her and kiss her, tasting the whiskey on her lips. I don’t put any thought into it. I just do it. When I pull back everyone is staring at me. Saige just smiles and then takes another swig of beer.

Lo’s eyes are narrowed and I can tell she’s going to be the toughest one to impress. I raise my beer in her direction and sip.

“Oh my God, not a banjo,” Amelia says, cringing as she looks over the railing and down to where the next group is setting up.

“What’s wrong with the banjo?” Ilsa asks.

“If you have to ask, you’ll never understand,” Amelia says. They’re a matched set, both small and cute, Amelia with hair dyed a light purple color and Ilsa with blonde and a few blue streaks. Ilsa has a hoop in her lip and Amelia’s got one in her septum. They’re leaning close and holding hands as they look over the railing.

“You play any instruments, Quinn?” Lo asks, finishing her drink.

“No. I’ve been told that I’m completely tone deaf, unfortunately.” Quinn is tone deaf. Sylas is not. I inherited my mother’s ability to sing and pick up a tune after hearing it once. If I’d had a different childhood, I might have learned an instrument, but I never did.

“That’s a shame,” Saige says. “But it doesn’t matter. I like you anyway.” She rests her chin on my shoulder and I wonder if the touching is for my benefit, or to show her friends that we’re serious. I didn’t know we were that serious, but she’s definitely sending out those vibes.

The band starts up and gives us something to talk about. The music isn’t bad, per se, but it’s definitely not something I would voluntarily listen to if I wasn’t with Saige. It seems that most of her friends feel the same way.

“We should have gone to the other place,” Beck says, wincing at the sound of the banjo.

“I think this is fun. It’s good to try new things,” Saige says. “Be adventurous.”

“Agreed,” I say and I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s glorious in this low light, her eyes sparkling from the booze and her hands all over me. We’re definitely getting naked when we leave tonight.

Beck and JR start a discussion about what situation is appropriate for wearing a cowboy hat.

“How about never,” Amelia says.

“I think you’d look very cute in one,” Ilsa says, patting Amelia on the head.

“I look cute in everything,” Amelia counters with a smirk.

“Well, that is true,” Lo says and Amelia raises her mojito in Lo’s direction.

“Cheers.”

“I think you’d look cute in one, even if you’re not an actual cowboy,” Beck says to JR.

“Why thank you, ma’am,” he says, pretending to tip a hat at her.

“Well I, for one, am totally on board with a cowboy hat, as long it’s accompanied by chaps,” Saige says, leaning on my shoulder. “You’d look great in assless chaps,” she says to me and I nearly choke on my beer.

“That is an image I did not need in my head,” Lo says with a grimace.

“Ditto,” Isla and Amelia say.

The conversation flows better as more alcohol is consumed. No surprise there. I have a little pretend argument with JR and Beck about sports teams and then a debate with Lo about TV shows.

“Whatever. You’re insane,” she says when I argue that Seinfeld is a better show than Frasier.

“I’m okay with that assessment,” I say with a smile. The alcohol is burning its way through my system and I’m going to have to pace myself.

“Oh God, another banjo,” Beck wails and looks down at her shot. She and Amelia had started a drinking game. Every time there was a banjo, a shot. Every time someone sang Conway Twitty, shot. They were getting pretty wasted, pretty fast.

Saige has been quiet, as if she’s watching me. But she’s been touching me constantly. Her hand on my back, her chin on my shoulder, her fingers on the back of my neck. It’s making it hard to think, hard to breathe, hard not to grab her hand, take her to the bathroom and fuck her senseless in one of the stalls.

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