Fireworks 3 and 4

Fireworks: Forever Chapter Twenty-Eight

    Documented flirtation between Drake and SZA was the first step. Mia moving out of Drake's house should have been the third or fourth step, following a very public altercation. She sped up the timeline for that as payback for not telling her about the Nicki angle to the storyline he was assigned. That made her moving out step two. A public altercation was still very much needed, because fans weren't as mad at him as they should be yet; they were just confused. They still didn't know what was going on between Drake and Mia. Had they broken up and was his flirtation with SZA then on the up and up, or was he cheating on his woman with a high profile star? The altercation would put all of those questions to rest.

    Drake and SZA planned a very public lunch at a popular restaurant in Los Angeles.

    Mia breezed through the outdoor seating area with her assistant Tori, flicking her wrist while talking a mile a minute. She laughed occasionally.

    Paparazzi were practically camped outside of this restaurant sixteen hours out of the day, and today was no exception. Several obvious paps were spotted across the street with huge lens attachments fixed to the front of their cameras. A few lower-key paps were seated at nearby restaurants with much more cost-friendly menus, quietly snapping photos with their cell phone cameras that boasted 50x zoom. 

    Instead of sitting across from Drake, SZA sat in the chair beside him. She gradually scooted her chair closer and closer, affectionately touching his shoulder while speaking, or touching his knee beneath the table. She looked breathtaking in a long-sleeved top with a white collar perfectly popped. 

    He'd told her to talk about random shit. It didn't really matter what she was saying, because no one was close enough to hear their actual conversation. So, she would randomly flip between talking about the recent project she was working on to how often she watered her succulents. Throughout all of the random information, all he had to do was feign interest and interject with his own random statements. 

    She did a phenomenal job at appearing excited and flirty. When it was her time too listen, she genuinely appeared to be interested in whatever bullshit fell out of his mouth. A few times, she rested her head on his shoulder.

    Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mia and her assistant getting out of her car and handing the keys to the valet. His chest grew tight as she slung a slim purse strap over her shoulder. She's so damned cute, he thought, trying to look at her on the sly. 

    Her hair hung down her back in long, dark waves. The outfit she wore was so casual. Black tank top, jeans, cute sandals. Nails done in a mid-length, colorful design. She spoke a mile a minute while her poor assistant struggled to keep up.

    Drake lowered his eyes and smiled to himself. SZA was still talking, but he didn't catch a word of it. 

    Mia and Tori were led to the outside seating area, but Mia stopped in her tracks.

    "Oh shit," Tori said loudly. Out of everyone, her acting was the weak link. She needed to speak as rarely as possible. Her words sounded robotic, like she was reading them from a script page.

    "What?" Mia asked, looking at her assistant. Her acting was a lot more on point. She turned her head in the direction her assistant was looking, and her eyes went round when she saw Drake sitting with SZA's head resting on his shoulder.

    Her assistant started talking, but Mia held up a solitary index finger.

    SZA was still talking, this time about astronomy. One of her favorite subjects, even back in the day when he'd first met her.

    Mia approached their table. "Oh, is this what we're doing?" she asked, glaring daggers at him.

    "Shit." He sat up straighter in his chair.

    SZA lifted her head, slowly realizing they'd been "caught."

    "Really?" Mia asked him, pointing at the two of them. "What is this?"

    "Nothing, baby, we're just talking about work," Drake answered. Central Cee's words were buzzing in his head. All of this really is ridiculous.

    "Talking about work?" Mia mimicked. "Is that why she's laying all over you? Her head was too heavy with ideas?"

    Drake stood up from his seat and grabbed hold of both of Mia's hands. It felt good, just holding her hands. Linking his fingers with hers. Being close to her. "Baby," he said again, trying to sound like he was pleading with her. "Nothing is going on."

    "You were caught kissing at a concert and now this," Mia said, touching the tip of her index finger to his forehead and pushing it. "You begged me to come back to your house, but you're out here disrespecting me. Pretending like you don't know why I moved out in the first place. You know we're done, right?"

    He looked away from her, but she grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her.

    "You know we're really done this time, right?"

    The cameras were clicking away. Even regular restaurant patrons had whipped their phones out on the sly and were attempting to record the confrontation from behind menus. The whispering started. 

    Drake glanced around the restaurant. They seemed to have everyone's attention.

    "You don't have anything to say for yourself?" Mia asked him, lowering her hand. 

    "It's not what you think. We were working and just got caught up in feelings."

    "Yeah?" she asked him in a mock-sympathetic. "Just caught up in feelings, huh?"

    "Yes."

    She nodded and looked at their table. Her movements were smooth as she leaned and grabbed his glass of champagne. "How about, you get caught up in this?" She dumped the champagne all over his designer shirt, making sure to shake every drop from the glass before setting it back down on the table. Then, she whirled on her heel and snapped for her assistant to follow.

    Shocked gasps were like a domino effect, spreading throughout that restaurant to the restaurants flanking the outdoor dining area. 

    Drake dramatically looked down at his wet shirt, then turned to watch Mia and Tori return to stand near the valet attendant so their car could be retrieved. Damn, she played that part a little too well, he thought, sitting back down.

    SZA made a barely-there attempt at wiping down his shirt. It did nothing to rid the stain that was quickly forming on the expensive, Italian material. "Well, damn," she murmured.

    He laughed dryly. "Yeah."