Page 12 of Jinxes and Drumsticks

“Hey! Lillith! You came back!” Oren says brightly, from where his long body drapes languidly over a worn sofa that is at least two feet shorter than he is. “I’m so happy to see you. I wanted to ask you some questions about your shop. What was it called again?”

“Back off, man,” Damien says, though the words have no bite. “I already warned her about you.”

“Warned her that I might want to patronize a small business while we’re here for the next three months recording our next album?” Oren says innocently, pushing his orange-lensed shades down the bridge of his nose and glancing at me over them. “How utterly terrifying of me.”

“Don’t be a smart ass,” Damien says as he sits on a stool. He wraps his arms around my middle and settles me onto one of his thighs, my knees pressed together as they hang between his legs. My platform boots dangle enough that I have to point my toe to steady myself and not wobble on him.

“This alright?” he asks quietly next to my ear.

I can feel heat coursing from my stomach up to my chest and then into my face and ears. But I nod, strangely charmed by this quick, casual possessiveness over me. He rewards me with a close-mouthed smile before looking over at Oren. “You can talk Lillith’s face off after I take her out on a proper date, alright?” Damien says.

“Christ, here we go,” Satoshi says, shaking his head and looking down at an unfamiliar bass that he seems to be restringing. I find myself entranced by the methodical work he’s doing while Damien rests his chin on my shoulder. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone re-string an instrument. It’s hard not to be curious about it.

“Lillith,” Damien says quietly next to my ear. “Where should we go tonight? Are you hungry? I need to eat. Any recs?”

My eyes meet his for a split second, their pupils widening just a little as he takes me in. I look down to see his phone in his hands while his arms are wrapped around me. He’s peering at it over my shoulder. I’m struck by how comfortable I feel tucked into him like this, when I only just met him a few hours ago.

On his screen, he’s got local restaurants pulled up on the rideshare app he picked. I scroll through it until I find what I’m looking for. “This is my favorite ramen place. Hakata Ikkousha,” I say. “It’s a restaurant that originated in Japan, so it’s super authentic and amazing. If you like ramen, I mean. I know not everyone’s into soup.”

“Hell yeah,” Damien says, selecting it and ordering our ride. “I could fuck up some ramen right now.”

“Anyone who isn’t into soup is a dumbass,” Satoshi chimes in.

“I love soup,” Roxie says with a groan of desire.

“Agreed, best food group,” I say. “No matter what time of year it is.”

Satoshi’s eyes slide over to me, narrowing slightly before giving a half-nod.

“Congratulations, you’ve just been accepted by the dick of the band,” Oren says.

Satoshi scoffs and shakes his head.

He also doesn’t argue. Maybe Oren’s right.

“Alright, we’re ducking out the back. The rideshare is almost here,” Damien says, sliding his phone into his pocket and grasping me gently by my waist to help me to my feet.

“Use protection,” Oren sighs as he drapes himself back over the sofa and pushes his sunglasses back in place. “Make good choices.”

“You fucking wish,” Damien says, putting an arm over my shoulders and tucking me against him again, guiding us out of the greenroom.

Once the door shuts behind him and we’re alone in the cavernous corridors again, I feel swept into his riptide. That last little exchange was... weird. My intuition isn’t exactly setting off any alarms. I don’t feel unsafe but...

As if reading my mind, he looks down at me sidelong and gives me an apologetic smile. “Hey, uhm. I’m sorry about that last comment. I hope that didn’t freak you out.”

For some reason, the apology emboldens me to give him a hard time.

“Which part? The one where you implied that you won’t be using protection if I let you fuck me? Or the one about not making good choices while I’m leaving with you on a date?”

He cringes. “That was rude of me,” he says.

“Yeah, a little,” I say.

“I’m not planning on asking you to fuck me,” he says. “But if I did, I promise I’d use protection. And I also promise I’m the kind of douchebag that carries it in his wallet at all times. I know what I am and I’m not afraid to own it.”

I snort a laugh and he grins.

“As for good choices—I’m pretty sure I made the best possible one for the night as it stands. Bailing on this place with you feels... I don’t know...”