into a chair, snagging a menu from the middle. Someone, probably the owner, had placed a bottle of champagne in a bucket for us. The very-pink label winked at me as I got closer.
I didn't bite back my snort. “Who thought we'd drink this?”
“It's champagne,” Brenda said, sliding around and freeing Lola from her grasp. She touched the neck of the green bottle. “Fancy champagne, even. I'll keep it if it doesn't get touched.”
Colt slid the bucket away from her, sitting across from Porter with it in his grasp. “Oh no, I'll take it. It'll make a great dessert.”
“Or we could all share it," Porter said, snatching the champagne back. He ignored Colt's pout. “We've got an excuse to celebrate.”
I suppose we do, I thought silently. As a group, we all turned to watch Lola.
She shifted from one foot to the next. “What, because of me? Come on, don't make me blush.”
A chunk of me lurched forward at the simple idea of making her cheeks glow pink. It was close to the itch I got for tobacco when things were stressing me out. Striding forward, I pulled the bottle from Porter. In my other hand I snagged an empty champagne flute. “Everyone,” I said, “take a glass.”
Lola twitched as I approached. “I'm not technically allowed to drink," she said, laughing. "Maybe I should have said that sooner? Before all the beers?” The tilt of her lips at the corners sent electric pricks over my spine. She reacted to me so openly. Was that what was drawing me to her? How she projected her emotions on her lovely face?
“No one is going to say anything to you, not in this group,” Colt chuckled.
“Here, take this.” I pushed the glass at Lola until she took hold.
“Seriously,” she said, sourness dancing on her tongue, “We don't need to do this.”
With ease, I gripped the bottle. The sound of the cork popping made her flinch. I said, “Yes, we do.” Lifting an eyebrow, daring her to stop me, I filled her glass.
Like we were in some unbreakable bubble, the rest of the group hovered nearby, not getting too close.
Staring Lola down, the champagne fizzing in her glass, I waited. I didn't know what I was waiting for.
“Hey,” Colt said, nudging me and shattering the moment—whatever that moment really was. “Share the stuff, Drez.”
After I filled their glasses, grabbing one for myself, I abandoned the bottle on the table. There was no need to explain; I lifted my drink, they all copied me.
Even Lola.
Looking her dead in the eye, I said my piece. “Cheers to a new guitarist who won't be found with her cock buried in some random girl in the bathroom while we're supposed to be playing on stage.”
They all laughed. Well, everyone but Lola. She just looked away, a delicious red heat crawling up her neck. There. That was what I'd wanted.
Why the fuck did I need that so badly?
We finished our toast, which seemed to give the two waitresses hovering by the door enough courage to sway the rest of the way inside. The one with long, onyx hair spoke first. “Can we get you boys anything to drink?”
Brenda's scowl had us all smiling again. “This boy will take a vodka tonic,” she said with false, sugary sweetness.
Tugging a chair out, I sat towards the end, furthest from Colt and Porter. The way the girls were staring at me was familiar. They knew who I was, they smelled money and fame. Beyond that, they were ogling my chest as it peeked through my open hoodie.
I said, “I'll take whatever beer is on tap.”
The scrape of another chair, right across from me, made me look up. Lola settled in with her eyes lowered. I wanted to see into her head, to know what she was thinking. Is she being shy, or is she nervous she'll get carded in spite of what Colt said? I doubted anyone would bother. The restaurant was happy we were here, if they said a peep about Lola not being twenty-one, they risked us leaving.
They wanted our business more than they feared a single underage drinker in a private
I didn't bite back my snort. “Who thought we'd drink this?”
“It's champagne,” Brenda said, sliding around and freeing Lola from her grasp. She touched the neck of the green bottle. “Fancy champagne, even. I'll keep it if it doesn't get touched.”
Colt slid the bucket away from her, sitting across from Porter with it in his grasp. “Oh no, I'll take it. It'll make a great dessert.”
“Or we could all share it," Porter said, snatching the champagne back. He ignored Colt's pout. “We've got an excuse to celebrate.”
I suppose we do, I thought silently. As a group, we all turned to watch Lola.
She shifted from one foot to the next. “What, because of me? Come on, don't make me blush.”
A chunk of me lurched forward at the simple idea of making her cheeks glow pink. It was close to the itch I got for tobacco when things were stressing me out. Striding forward, I pulled the bottle from Porter. In my other hand I snagged an empty champagne flute. “Everyone,” I said, “take a glass.”
Lola twitched as I approached. “I'm not technically allowed to drink," she said, laughing. "Maybe I should have said that sooner? Before all the beers?” The tilt of her lips at the corners sent electric pricks over my spine. She reacted to me so openly. Was that what was drawing me to her? How she projected her emotions on her lovely face?
“No one is going to say anything to you, not in this group,” Colt chuckled.
“Here, take this.” I pushed the glass at Lola until she took hold.
“Seriously,” she said, sourness dancing on her tongue, “We don't need to do this.”
With ease, I gripped the bottle. The sound of the cork popping made her flinch. I said, “Yes, we do.” Lifting an eyebrow, daring her to stop me, I filled her glass.
Like we were in some unbreakable bubble, the rest of the group hovered nearby, not getting too close.
Staring Lola down, the champagne fizzing in her glass, I waited. I didn't know what I was waiting for.
“Hey,” Colt said, nudging me and shattering the moment—whatever that moment really was. “Share the stuff, Drez.”
After I filled their glasses, grabbing one for myself, I abandoned the bottle on the table. There was no need to explain; I lifted my drink, they all copied me.
Even Lola.
Looking her dead in the eye, I said my piece. “Cheers to a new guitarist who won't be found with her cock buried in some random girl in the bathroom while we're supposed to be playing on stage.”
They all laughed. Well, everyone but Lola. She just looked away, a delicious red heat crawling up her neck. There. That was what I'd wanted.
Why the fuck did I need that so badly?
We finished our toast, which seemed to give the two waitresses hovering by the door enough courage to sway the rest of the way inside. The one with long, onyx hair spoke first. “Can we get you boys anything to drink?”
Brenda's scowl had us all smiling again. “This boy will take a vodka tonic,” she said with false, sugary sweetness.
Tugging a chair out, I sat towards the end, furthest from Colt and Porter. The way the girls were staring at me was familiar. They knew who I was, they smelled money and fame. Beyond that, they were ogling my chest as it peeked through my open hoodie.
I said, “I'll take whatever beer is on tap.”
The scrape of another chair, right across from me, made me look up. Lola settled in with her eyes lowered. I wanted to see into her head, to know what she was thinking. Is she being shy, or is she nervous she'll get carded in spite of what Colt said? I doubted anyone would bother. The restaurant was happy we were here, if they said a peep about Lola not being twenty-one, they risked us leaving.
They wanted our business more than they feared a single underage drinker in a private
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