"So... who are you with?" The burly security guard steps forward, barring your way.
"I'm with the band," you say, your voice loaded with suggestiveness, and it doesn't go unnoticed.
He raises an eyebrow, taking in your too-tight dress and cherry red...
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Larry's reaction to me hooking up with Sam had been predictable whilst Van's had been surprising. I'm not sure what Johnny's will be. Out of all the lads he's the one that I'm the most worried about. He's close friends with Sam after all, their Newcastle roots fostering a bond that's stronger and deeper than anything the King's Road crew from back home would understand. I know Bob won't be impressed with my behaviour and it's likely Benji won't be either, but there's just something about the thought of Johnny being disappointed in my actions that makes me feel wholly uncomfortable.
I'd usually try my utmost to avoid difficult situations at all costs, but I know I can't avoid Johnny forever. I'll be stuck on a tiny tour bus with him for weeks on end soon, and the thought of hiding away sneakily in dark corners every time I see him and scurrying off down the narrow corridors to the bunks doesn't seem like a very favourable option.
So I take a deep breath before I step out, running my hands through my dishevelled hair and pulling on the hem of Van's t-shirt to straighten it out, a feeble attempt to make myself look halfway decent. If I'd been pursuing one of the rich boys back home I'd have likely ducked into my room first, slapped on a bit of lippy and fixed my eyeliner at the very least, but I know Johnny can see past all that. He doesn't just take things at face value. He's deeper than that, more insightful... which just adds to my nerves as I walk out on to the decking, see him sitting reclined on the seating with his legs up on the table and his head cocked back, cigarette hanging from his lips. He's wearing a pair of glasses with yellow tinted lenses and I'm not sure if they're proper glasses or sunnies, but either way they look good on him. But then... everything does. He looks gorgeous when he's not even trying... that's part of his appeal.
I plaster on a small, meek smile which threatens to slip as he hears me approach, turning to look right at me.
"Good morning Arabella." His cheerful tone gives nothing away but I think I can see something in his eyes through the coloured lenses, barely perceptible but it's there, a tiny glint of judgement perhaps. I quickly look down, taking the seat next to him, propping my feet on the table, mirroring his pose.
"Sleep well?" He smirks when I don't answer straight away, taking another drag of his cigarette and turning his head to the side to blow the smoke away from me.
"Like a baby."
His smile grows and he nods, looking me right in the eye this time, holding my gaze and even though I want to look away I feel like I shouldn't. It feels like he's got me all worked out and I don't like it at all. My usual confidence is crumbling, I suddenly feel much younger than my 19 years, naive and immature for playing my irresponsible games with people's feelings.
"Are you pissed off with me?" I suddenly blurt, shifting in my seat, catching the hem of Van's t-shirt and stretching it down further over my bare thighs.
Johnny's eyes widen in surprise but his smile doesn't falter. "And why would I be pissed off with you?"
Great. He wants me to spell it out to him. He knows I'm already squirming inside and he thinks I deserve it. There seems like little point in beating around the bush.
