29
Slater
“When are you going to piss on her leg?” Rain’s annoying-as-fuck voice says beside me inside the Black Knight pub, where I haven’t taken my eyes off Alina for the past hour. Security is tight and the place is jammed. Scantily-clad girls are swarming us, wanting to be noticed.
Yet here I stand, unable to look at anyone but her. It’s not like me to turn down pussy when on tour, and so far, it’s all I’ve done. And the guys are starting to take notice.
“Piss off, asshole. She’s cute, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to mark my territory and settle down with a dog and some kids, before I end up quitting the band,” I say, but I do smart a bit. I take a swig of beer. It’s true. I might be intrigued, but I’m not looking to lay claim. I try to sound convincing, at least to myself. Not yet, anyway.
“Sure, whatever you say, man. Although, you do realize you practically threw Fife and Rain off the airplane in order to sit beside her?” Zack adds, patting my back, joining in the fun.
“Whatever. I don’t even really know her, man.” I say, not believing it. I might not know everything about her yet, but I will.
“Isn’t that the way you normally like it?” Rain tosses in another two cents, and I’m about to make him swallow his fist if he keeps it up. Alina Cassidy both intrigues and scares the crap out of me. She’s a mixture of innocence and beauty, and I’m starting to crave time spent alone with her, but these assholes don’t need my confirmation on the subject. We all know that would only lead to more razzing.
After sitting with her on the plane yesterday, watching, The Hangover, and hearing her laughing (all the while doing a horrible job trying to hide her cute little snort), I was a goner. Dick hard as steel, and I couldn’t focus on the movie for shit. All I saw and heard was her. All her dark lush hair begging me to run my fingers through it, her pretty face glowing, with barely a trace of makeup, showcasing how truly beautiful she was as we talked in between scenes…she had me captivated. Alina Cassidy has infiltrated not only my mind, but my senses, too. And I want more. All I could smell on my clothes once off the plane and in my room last night was her—vanilla and jasmine. And I fucking loved it.
“Lay off, guys. Not like you’re any better.” I give Zack a pointed look.
“Yeah, Roxie is fucking dynamite,” he says, looking out onto the floor where Roxie’s dancing with Siobhán and Lena, from the band Tourist. My eyes scan the crowd for Ali, who’s still sitting in a booth with Paisley, and Tristan, Keith, and Molly from Ullapool.
As if feeling my stare, Ali looks my way, her eyes trapping mine. I tip my beer in her direction. Fuck, she’s sweet. Her blue eyes drink me in from across the room, and I’d pay big money to know her thoughts right now. Once again, I know I’m fucked.
Now to figure out a game plan. Not only is she shy, I can tell she’s got some baggage. I see it in the way she carries herself, and in the way her confidence wavers. I hope one day I’ll earn her trust, that Alina will open up to me about things like her tattoo, and what pushes her to want to hide among the shadows when I see so much light radiating from her (at least when she lets herself forget whatever plagues her mind).
Being a famous rock musician creates issues, too. If I’m going to try and get to know her like I plan, I want it done on our terms. I don’t want it out in the open, ’cause if the media gets wind of anything, it won’t be about the music anymore—which is the whole point of this tour and having indie bands joining us. A band like Happenstance deserves exposure because they’re really good, not because Slater Jenkins finds their lead guitarist not only stunning, but also really fucking sweet. So, yeah, I need a solid plan going forward.
“Don’t worry, little brother. Your secret’s safe with us. We get it. You’re interested, you just don’t know it yet,” Fife says, interrupting my thoughts, before heading down the stairs.
“Where ya going, asshat?”
“Gonna go hang with your girl, maybe ask her to dance,” Fife calls over his shoulder, raising his beer and heading right for Ali’s table, where Shiv and Roxie are now sitting, too.
“Son of a bitch.” I put my beer down, following his path, leaving Rain and Zack barking in laughter and catcalling when I pick up the pace, wanting to beat Fife so I can sit beside Ali.
Zack’s right. If we were on a plane right now, I just might toss Fife’s ass out.
Assholes.
Luckily for my older brother, he sits beside Tristan—the twat—allowing me to slip in and take up residence beside Ali. Immediately, her breath hitches, and her scent teases my senses. I want to be the person who gets to lean into her neck and inhale her sweet scent. I want to be the man who takes her breath away, with not only his proximity but also his kisses.
Fuck, I’m pathetic.
“You having fun?” I ask, leaning in as close as I know she’ll allow.
“Yeah, these guys are hilarious,” she says, turning her head and gifting me with a sweet smile.
“You wanna lose at pool?” I challenge.
“Oh…uh, I’m not sure I know how to play very well,” she says nonchalantly, but not dismissing the idea altogether.
“That’s okay, I can teach you,” I grin, thinking of getting to put my hands on her a little.
“Okay, sure, we can play a game. But Rox is a wicked player. She might be more of a challenge when you finish with me.”
I’m not sure I’ll ever be finished. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it.
Roxie laughs out loud, shaking her head. “Oh yeah, I’m awesome. Call me when you’re ready to be schooled.” She smiles at Ali and me before we head over to the pool tables.
Alina Cassidy is a sneak. I should have known she was a ringer when Roxie looked at her like she was crazy.
After I “show her” how to hold her cue properly and give her a few tips, Ali proceeds to kick my ass the first two games.
“Eight ball, top right corner,” she grins, leaning over the table and I stand there shaking my head chuckling, as she effortlessly sinks the ball into the pocket.
“You’re a liar, Ali.”
“Fibber. ‘Liar’ is so harsh.”
“Whatever. You’re gonna get it next game,” I promise, as she sinks the eightball, making it three games.
“Jesus,” I laugh. “Darts. Maybe we should play darts. My manhood is hanging in the balance here,” I say, placing my pool cue on the table, not sure if I could actually beat this girl.
“Ahh, you give up so easily,” Ali says, placing her cue on top of mine.
“Here.” I hand her a hundred dollar bill.
“Nothing like the thrill of victory,” she beams, folding up her winnings before slipping it into the back pocket of her jeans. Jeans I blame for affecting my game. They fit her so nicely; I spent too much time drooling over her luscious curves each and every damn time she bent over the table to take her shot rather than focus on my own game. I might have lost at pool, but knowing Ali willingly let me get close to her in order to “show her” how to shoot makes me feel like the real winner.
“Ready to play darts? Double or nothing?” she questions jokingly, raising her eyebrows, her demeanour playful. There’s no way I’d say no to anything she suggested at this point, I’m so addicted to the high she’s giving me right now. Hanging out with Alina Cassidy is dangerous for a guy like me.
“Abso-fuckin-lutely,” I laugh, following behind her, not giving a shit if I lose my manhood forever if it makes her happy, because seeing her happy is making me fucking ecstatic.
We spend the rest of the night—once she kicks my ass again, only this time at darts—sitting with the others, talking music, laughing, posing for pictures, having a few more drinks, and even dancing like idiots.
It was nice seeing this side of her tonight—carefree and beautiful.
Alina Cassidy deserves to shine. And I’ve decided that, yeah, I want to bask in her light, and I’ll do whatever it takes for more nights like this. Even if I can tell I’ll have to pick up a sword and fight off the darkness that tries to swallow her. Because after spending time with her tonight, I have no doubt a girl like her will be worth the battle.