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“Okay, watch my next one then,” I say. Inside, I don’t get my hopes up. Not just yet anyways.
Scar’s shoulders relax and I can see the sigh of relief she sheds, realizing I’m not going to grill her for why she ditched the show.
Am I curious and feel like I deserve an explanation? Hell yes.
But if I’ve learned anything by watching Scar and interacting with her, I don’t think she’s the kind of person you push for answers. I have to wait for her to be willing to give information freely, letting down her guard with me and earning her trust. And even if she’s broken a bit of mine, I still want to earn hers.
“I got you something,” she says, ducking her head to the side and reaching her hand down below the booth where I can’t see it.
I raise an eyebrow, surprised.
Scar pulls out a pair of neon green drumsticks with black detailing around the tips. She offers them across the table and I step over, grabbing them from her. Our hands brush as she hands them off and a spark of electricity jolts through me as her warm skin meets mine, even for the briefest of moments.
She pulls her hand back quickly and tucks them into her lap.
“I’ve seen your kit,” she says, referencing the neon green kit I got for this tour.
It was a custom design I worked on for months, picking out the perfect shade of bright green and black accents. I love to have a pop of color onstage and it looks sick under the lights.
“I thought these would match.”
“They’re perfect,” I say, clearing my throat when the words come out strangled. My chest squeezes in on itself at the thoughtful gesture. I twirl one around my hand, letting it dance between my fingers and enjoy the way Scar watches it move. And I definitely don’t miss the way her eyes shift slightly to stare at my torso, raking their way up and down my abdomen.
“You like what you see?”
That breaks Scar out of her trance, and a scowl makes its way back across her brow.
There she is.
“Anyways, I just wanted to tell you I truly am sorry for missing it and hurting you. It wasn’t my intention.”
I grab hold of the drumstick and tuck them into my shorts pocket. Between the sincerity of her words and the gesture of the gift, I believe her when she says it wasn’t her intention to hurt my feelings.
“I appreciate you apologizing. You didn’t have to get me these, but I love them. I’ll play them ’til I break them.”
“Do you break them a lot?”
“More than you’d think.” I laugh.
“Well then, I look forward to seeing you use them ’til you break them,” she says, mimicking my words as she presses her hands on the table and pushes herself up, scooting her way out of the booth. “I’m glad we were able to talk and allowing me to make it up to you.”
“Woah, I didn’t say you made it up to me just yet.” I stop her as she starts to walk away, enjoying the way she spins around and shoots me a baffled look. An idea formulates in my head and I know I need to get her to agree right here, right now before she walks away and we break this little moment we’re in.
“What do you mean? I thought you just said we’re good?” she says, her tone exasperated.
“Well, not in so many words.” I wave my hand back and forth in a so-so motion.
Scar crosses her arms, and I do my best to keep my eyes on her face as the action squeezes her chest together, accentuating her cleavage over the low neckline of her tank top.
“Make it up to me by going out on a date,” I tell her.
“A date?” Scar asks, blinking rapidly, her dark lashes fluttering over the tops of her cheeks.
“I plan an activity, we grab something to eat, we talk about ourselves, you know, that sort of thing. Never been on a date, Scar?” I smile at her, enjoying the way her expression turns to one of annoyance as I tease her.
“I have,” she grits through her teeth.
“Then it’s a date. Tomorrow.”
