“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.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks me.
“That I’m having a good time and I’m glad I came out with you,” I say, giving her a smile.
“Wanna dance?”
“As long as it’s not a two-step,” I say, getting up and taking her hand. I don’t pay attention to the rest of the table, but I’m hoping this will score me romantic points with Lo. If I can prove that I’m going to treat Saige right, I’ll be in.
The song is the sort of thing you shuffle to, so that’s what Saige and I do.
“How am I doing?” I ask. I want to know what she thinks.
“Very well. Although, I thought Lo was going to deck you. I think she’s still a little rattled by the last time. She can be protective.” That was an understatement.
“It’s good that she cares about you that much.” The boys had my back and it was invaluable.
“I’m glad you’re not threatened by her. Some guys would be.”
“She doesn’t scare me,” I say with a grin and Saige returns it.
“Good. Because I want you to get along. I really do.”
“And I have every intention of getting along with her. Even though she likes Frasier.” I cringe, making Saige giggle.
“I have to agree with you on that one. Seinfeld was way better.”
I tuck her into me and we keep shuffling together. The song ends and we make our way back over to the table.
“Well-played, sir, well-played,” Lo says with a slow clap. “I may have underestimated you.”
“I think that’s a compliment,” I say.
“It is,” Saige says.
“So, I have an idea. How about we blow this joint and head somewhere a little more lively,” Beck says, leaning against JR. He’s equally preppy, wearing khakis and a polo. But he’s not a douche, so that’s a plus.
“I second,” Amelia says, even though she’s weaving a little bit.
“I third,” Saige says and I fourth.
“Fine, fine. What’s next on the list?” Lo says. Saige pulls out her phone and scans something.
“Um, the next one is a few blocks away. We could probably just walk.” It’s a warm night and most of us are still just buzzed. I send Cash (my follower for the night) a text letting him know that we’re moving locations and to follow. For a huge guy, he’s surprisingly stealthy.
“Let’s go,” Beck says and we head to the bar to pay our tabs and then out to the street. Saige cuddles against me.
“I really like you,” she says as if it surprises her.
“I really like you.” This isn’t a lie. I really do like her. She’s sexy and funny and sarcastic and beautiful. I brush my hand on the back of her neck where her tattoo is.
“When did you get this? You’ve asked about my tattoos, and I want to know about yours.” It’s the only one she has.
“Um, I got it on spring break a few years ago. We were in Ireland and it seemed like the thing to do. My mother’s side is Shea.” I knew that as well.
“Well you got lucky. A lot of tattoos like yours turn out looking like shit.” I’d seen more than my fair share of shoddy ink. Damn shame.
“Thanks. Most of the time I forget that it’s there.” She rubs the back of her neck.
“Well, it suits you.”
“Thanks,” she says and she shivers.
“Are you cold?”
She shakes her head and we keep walking.
The group gets loud and rowdy the closer we get to the next stop, but I’m fine with that. Even when Amelia starts singing in French at the top of her lungs.
“She only speaks French when she’s wasted,” Isla explains, as she tries to help Amelia along.
The next spot we go to is more what I thought of when Saige told me we were going out. You can hear the music from fairly far away and there’s a beefy bouncer at the door checking IDs.