22. Drummer Boy
22
Drummer Boy
As we strolled into the workshop, I reassured Sal that Victor was staying at Kat’s for the night. After all, they’d been apart for one whole evening. “They love their sleepovers,” I said.
“Do you want me to sleep over?” Sal asked, rearranging the plushies.
After one date, that would be sudden. But we were friends. Friends of the opposite sex. And we might have sex, so where did that leave us?
“You should bring a toothbrush, a change of clothes, and condoms, just in case,” I said.
Sal laughed and glanced around the mall. “So, yes?”
“We’ll see. Are you comfortable with the couch or a guest room? I’m not sure I want you in my bed all night.”
“I could manage.” He grinned. “Want me to pick up food again?”
“No, I’ll get something. Not turkey.” I squeezed Tom the Turkey’s fat, round body. His button eyes shined in simple cuteness.
“Glad to see you’re feeling better from when you messaged,” Sal said.
“How are you? Need to hug some poultry?” I wiggled Tom at him.
Chuckling, he shook his head. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? You’re wearing beige. Seems kind of muted for you,” I said .
Sal shrugged, his gaze falling to the shelves. “It’s all good.”
Was he still down about Janice? That sucked. I wish he could see what I saw in him. “You’re good,” I said.
He smirked, the twinkle in his eye brightening the whole room. “Thanks, sweetheart.”
Were his pet names still supposed to be ironic? I couldn’t tell. His dimples made it hard for me to care either way.
We messaged and chatted when we could throughout the day. After closing, we walked out together, sharing secret smiles behind Ash’s back. He sauntered through the metal detector, and unfortunately, I watched his ass the whole time. I had to reign it in.
Ash yawned, collecting her stuff. “I’m beat. Just gonna go home and sleep.”
“Sounds good to me.” I readied my key-ring of gadgets in my pocket out of habit.
“What are you up to?” she asked Sal, perusing her phone.
“Ah, nothing. Meeting up with somebody.” He let out an awkward laugh and bolted through the door, but circled around since he was too much of a gentleman to let it close in our faces.
She frowned. “Who are you meeting up with?”
He glanced at me. “A friend.”
I smiled and rubbed the blunt edge of my mini taser to account for the tingle in my extremities.
“A lady friend?” Ash clarified.
“Ah, maybe.” He fanned himself with his collar despite the chill November breeze.
“It better not be Janice,” she snapped.
He veered off the sidewalk and into the parking lot. “What? No. We’re friendly, but we’re not making plans.”
Good . They better not. She didn’t deserve his attention .
Ash arched her brow. “So, no ex-sex? What about friends with benefits?”
I tightened my grip on my taser. Sal wouldn’t hook up with someone else right as we were starting up, would he? Or did Ash suspect us already? She eyed me when she asked, like she was judging me as well as him.
He gaped, his lip twitching up when he glanced at me. “I don’t know where you get these ideas.”
“Well, you seem too chipper to be meeting a non-sexy friend,” she said. “And you won’t tell me who it is, so…”
“It’s not Janice.” He raised his chin and strolled to his car.
I flushed, fumbling my keys. I was a sexy friend. Sexy to him, at least.
Ash threw up her hands. “So, why are you being weird about saying who it is?”
“Because I’m a gentleman. I don’t kiss and tell. Plus, she wanted to keep it low-key.” He opened his car door.
“Well, you do too,” I said, crossing my arms.
Ash and Sal stared at me.
Fuck my big mouth. I was not going to out myself so early. I vaguely gestured to him. “Because you…aren’t saying anything even generally. She could be a girl from the bar. She could be married.”
“She’s not married,” he squawked.
Ash nudged my arm. “Want to run a background check on her, Zero?”
“No. I just hope she makes you happy,” I said, lowering my head. My pulse roared in my ears louder than the rustle of leaves. Oh my god. Was I asking him to reassure me?
Ash studied me, her gaze searing through my skin.
Sal’s voice was so soft. “Aw, Z…”
“I’ve gotta go. See you later.” My heart jolted as if I’d fucked up by overloading an outlet. I raced to my car and locked myself in .
Why was I such an idiot? Did I have to say that? Any of it? They’d think I was a loser or some socially inept idiot.
They talked in the parking lot for another few seconds, but then she left, shouting, “See you, heartbreaker.”
That had to be ironic. I couldn't imagine him hurting somebody.
My phone pinged.
Sal: Should I follow you home or would you rather fly solo tonight?
Me: You should still come
I strangled my phone as soon as I sent the message. It was a euphemism. He’d think I was sex-obsessed. Or obsessed with him. Maybe I needed to get it out of my system.
He liked the message with a heart, then quickly edited it to a ‘thumbs up.’ I sighed. Maybe we were both mixed up and nervous. He wouldn’t want to give the wrong impression. We were friends who decided to explore physical pleasures.
It was kind of weird to have someone follow me by invitation. During the ride, Sal bobbed to the music in his car, drumming on his steering wheel during stoplights. I smiled in the rearview mirror and shook my head. I bet he belted along to the chorus too. The green light glowed. Go ahead. Enjoy.
Once we got inside, I led him into the living room. “I saw your rock star routine in the car.” I mimed drumming in thin air.
“Hey, I was dusting the dashboard,” he said.
“Sure you were. So, next time I spot some lint on you, I should take care of it like this?” I patted his body like he was a human bongo.
“Z, stop.” He laughed, play-fighting back, then yanking me against him.
Electricity sizzled in the air between us. I giggled, my breasts grazing his chest. An ache developed deep in my gut. Could we just do this? Go at it ?
He rubbed my arms, his gaze drawn to my lips.
I surged closer to give him a kiss, but the brim of my hat smashed into his forehead and ricocheted us apart. “Ah, sorry,” I said.
“It’s okay.” He let go of me to rub the red mark and wrinkled his nose. “I’m still pretty.”
“Y-yes, you are.” Too pretty. Too sweet. Too tempting for me to relax and enjoy myself in his company. I took off my hat and gestured to the game setup. “Want to dust off Just Rock? I fixed the track pads.”
“You did?” He tried them out. The pad lit up, as did his eyes. “You are a superstar genius,” he said.
I curtseyed, like a fabulous idiot. “I do my best.”
“Here, let me show you the different styles.” He twirled the drumsticks, testing out different rock star personas, and tapped along to the beat.
I laughed and shed my fleece jacket. “Very nice. I like when you do it normally. Although I’d love to learn the twirl pullback thing.”
“Sit here, I’ll show you.” He patted the cushion in front of him.
It wasn’t his lap, exactly, but it wasn’t far off. I sat on the edge of the cushion with his legs framing mine. If I leaned back, I’d be resting against his cock and chest. I stretched and brushed his thighs.
He smiled against my ear and guided my fingers around the sticks. “You probably love the drums. You can hit stuff.”
“Thanks,” I huffed, then smacked the trackpad to the song he’d just played.
He reigned me in. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. That’s too hard.”
I furrowed my brow. “You’re supposed to hit it.”
“No wonder you busted the trackpad.” He chuckled. “You can do that on real drums, but on these, you’ve gotta be gentle, like this.” He guided me to a slow tempo.
Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.
My heart pounded as I turned to him. “This isn’t as exciting. ”
“Isn’t it?” He brushed my nose with his.
Without thinking, I leaned in. He kissed me, and I kissed him. We dropped the sticks, and for a second, he was just holding my hands. A good man. A good lover? A good friend.
Muddled longing jolted through my veins. This was too intimate. Too sweet.
I straddled his lap and kissed him deeper, sucking on his teasing tongue.
God, he was excellent.
Every time I flicked open a button on his shirt, his fingers skimmed higher under my top. My body simmered with anticipation. I took a second to rest my forehead against his and hid my palms in a thicket of chest hair. This was safe. Warm. I wanted to envelop him in a hug and tackle him to the couch, pepper him with kisses until we were numb to pleasure. He hummed, nuzzling closer.
I squeezed my eyes shut and throbbed with affection.
Fuck. I loved him.
We were supposed to be friends with benefits, not friends with feelings. He was in no place to return my affections, nor did I have the first idea on how to nurture them.
Maybe this was all a hormonal reaction, not an emotional one. Endorphins. Closeness. He’d had functional relationships, so he was likely used to managing this stuff.
I didn’t want to analyze it. I wanted to feel it. Something good, for once. With a friend I could trust.
“Are you okay?” he rasped, massaging my hips.
“Let’s move this somewhere more private.” I slid off his lap and took his hand. No matter what happened tonight, I wanted to be close to him.