Fireworks 1 and 2

Jungle: Chapter Twenty-Eight

    Her phone was going off. Her phone was always going off. And her impulse control wasn't the strongest, so she usually tended to check her notifications. It was easy to feel unimportant when you were around her. Not her intention, but usually the result.

    Drake glanced around the restaurant, checking for any faces he might recognize. "So are you going to tell me why we're here?" he queried after giving her a few minutes to check whatever messages she'd missed.

    Rihanna flipped her hair over her shoulder and set her phone down on the table. "I am being rude, right? So unprofessional." She laughed. "How have you been?"

    "I've been well," he answered cautiously. She wasn't generally one for small talk, so alerts in his mind were triggered. "And you?"

    She shrugged nonchalantly. "I can't complain, really. My tour wrapped up recently and it went very well. My album is doing well."

    "All good to hear."

    "Things are good for me," she said.

    He narrowed is eyes at her. "I'm sensing a but."

    She fidgeted with her phone, pouting her lips. "Do you...ever think about us? Remember the good times?"

    He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the waiter approached them.

    "Are you ready to order?" the Italian waiter asked, setting down glasses of water in front of each of them.

    "I will have the Scampi Origanate," Rihanna told the waiter without taking her eyes off of Drake.

    He met her gaze head-on. "Fettuccine alla Bolognese," he said softly to the waiter, handing over his menu.

    The tall, lanky waiter took both of their menus and walked off.

    Rihanna arched an eyebrow at him. "Well?"

    "Well, I thought we were here to discuss music," Drake said. "I'm not sure where you're going with this."

    "Will you just answer?"

    He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't really have reason to think about the old times. I'm with Mia now. We're very happy together, so..."

    "And before her?" Rihanna pressed.

    "Before her, once in awhile. Yes."

    She nodded as if she'd figured as much. "I think about us a lot. When we were together, I didn't appreciate you the way I should have."

    "People make mistakes. There is no point in dwelling on the past. What we should focus on is the future."

    "Right," she said, folding her hands together on top of the table and leaning forward. "I agree completely. I think...I think we should give us another chance."

    The sounds in the restaurant, the chattering and low murmurs, the clinking of glassware, all muted. He stared at her long and hard, Chubbs's words coming back to him. Rihanna would do something like this: reach out to him when he was perfectly happy with someone else, throw a curve ball at him. She knew how hard it was for him to resist her, or how hard it used to be for him to resist her. With that knowledge, she'd made a habit of dangling the proverbial carrot in front of him, keep him at arm's length but just within reach. She always kept him close so that whenever she was in a phase where she wanted a stable relationship, she didn't have to look far. Those phases were short spurts, never for a long period of time.

    She stared back at him openly, a vulnerable look shining in her eyes. A look he'd fallen for time and time again, before he knew that she was a very gifted natural actress.