Songbird by Victoria Escobar

Nicholas leaned over
my shoulder. “Looks like rabbit food.”
    “Salad generally gets that reaction from
people,” I replied and filled my mouth before I could whimper from
the hard press of his chest against my back.
    “Why are you eating salad?” He sounded
genuinely confused.
    I swallowed before answering, “Because it’s
healthy?”
    “So is meat.”
    “Look.” I held up the fork’s newest victim.
“It’s chicken.”
    “Barely. Why not a burger?”
    “Jesus, Nick.” Guy kicked at him and narrowly
avoided my leg. “Let her eat. You can play twenty questions when
she’s done. Your biggest bitch of the evening was her not eating,
but she can’t do that if she’s answering all your damn
questions.”
    “It’s okay.” I pushed the salad away. “I’m
kind of full anyway.” Not really. I hated salad but ate it because
I knew in a town like Nashville I was already considered fat. No
point in getting fatter.
    “You only ate like three bites.” Nicholas
moved a hand to my waist when I tried to stand. “That’s not
enough.”
    “I’m full. Tiny stomach.” I pulled—attempted
to pull—out of his grasp. “Walker, really.”
    “Do you have an eating disorder?”
    “What?” I had to turn and look to see if he
was for real. The turn, of course brought us way too close in the
confined space and I could see the amber halo in his eyes clearly.
I pretended not to notice his eyes briefly dip to my mouth before
coming back to lock on mine.
    “Are you anorexic?” His grip was firm when I
once again lost the tug to be free.
    “No, of course not.” I didn’t have a
disorder. Exactly. I was comfortable on half full.
    “Then eat the rest of your food.” Nicholas’s
hand tightened. “Or you don’t get up from the table.”
    “My God. You’re making a big deal out of
nothing. Let me up.” I struggled but he was bigger and most
definitely stronger.
    “You know.” Arc caught both our attentions.
“I don’t remember seeing you eat breakfast.”
    I froze. Had I eaten breakfast? I had to
think about it. I had a muffin in my kitchen before leaving the
house.
    “Stilts didn’t grab any snacks on the gas
break.” Max reclined in his seat. “I remember since I went in with
her. She didn’t pick up anything for herself.”
    “She didn’t order herself lunch, either.” Guy
shrugged when I glared at him. “I went in with her that time.”
    “So you do have a disorder.” Nicholas stated.
Was that annoyance in his tone?
    “No. I don’t. When I’m busy, I forget to eat.
That’s all. I don’t intentionally skip meals and I don’t throw up
my food.” I put a hand against his chest and pushed. Nothing
happened and he smirked.
    “You have not eaten two meals today and
you’ve only partially eaten the third.” Nicholas shifted so he held
me tighter and pulled my salad back across the table in front of
us. “Eat. Or I will make airplane noises for you.”
    I sighed and picked up my fork.
    Score. Me—two. Nicholas—one. Dammit.

Rain fell in a nasty, cold drizzle as we
drove into Seattle. The clouds blocked the setting sun and did
nothing for the cabin fever of my bus mates. I couldn’t fault them
for wanting to get off the bus and into hotel rooms.
    I wanted a quiet room where I wouldn’t
accidentally see more body parts than was polite and a comfortable
bed that I may actually be able to sleep in without waking in cold
sweat at three am. In such tight quarters, with six men changing
clothes and going to the loo, I’d seen more naked chests, legs, and
asses in the past two days than I cared to. Nicholas seemed to be
the most modest of them but I had gotten that eye full in
Nashville. And while I promised myself I wouldn’t judge, secretly,
Nicholas had the best body—with Arc in a close second.
    “We should go out, get some drinks.” Nicholas
stretched his legs out and made a show of his restlessness.
    “We should not. We should go to bed, because
someone has a radio show at seven in