Time To Waste

Chapter 02: Moving On

The distance between Ben's table and the corner booth wasn't far, but Jenna struggled to keep a sultry swagger in her steps as she made her way back to Christopher on her flimsy high-heels. Eat your heart out, Benjamin, she smirked to herself.

Sliding into the booth, she found her place back beneath Chris' arm and breathed in his scent. Familiar, comforting, masculine. "Fuck, that was harder than I expected," she confessed.

Chris pressed as much of her as he could tightly against his chest. "I hate that you did but I fucking love you!"

She swooned a little, allowing him to tangle his long fingers in her dark hair and bring her lips up toward his own. "I love only you," she promised him. "You're all I need and you're all I want, Christopher!"

His eyes lit up and his smiled grew. "I love you too, baby. Now what the fuck did that asshole want?"

Jenna shrugged, pecking his lips and then taking another sip from her glass. "To say that he missed me and to apologize for the scene he made at the house."

Chris' brown eyes widened. "He apologized?"

Jenna nodded. "He did."

"Don't believe it," Chris winked as he touched a tattooed finger to the tip of her nose. "Clearly he wanted to get you in bed."

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Not everyone wants to get me into bed, Chris. He was apologetic and said that he wanted us to remain friends."

"Yeah, I don't buy a fucking word of that," Chris snorted and nearly spewed soda out his nose.

Jenna pursed her lips. "Why not?"

Just over her shoulder, a familiar voice bellowed: "MIDNIGHT! TIME TO FUCKING GO, HOES!"

Chris sat up straighter and glanced over his shoulder at his tour manager. "Aye, aye, Capt'n!" Turning back to the table, he took the last swig of his beverage before burying his lips closer to his girlfriend's ear. "Time to go back to the hotel, baby, and you're all mine all night long!"

* * *

Unsteady on her mammoth heels, Jenna swayed as she waited for Chris just outside the bar. Fuck him for asking her to wear something so uncomfortable, and fuck beauty for being nothing but pain! She glanced at the limousine that had delivered them to the bar from their swank hotel, wishing like wildfire that Chris would get back from the Men's Room quickly so that she didn't have to try to balance out here on the sidewalk all damned night.

The tour manager, whose name she had utterly forgotten, eyed her curiously. "Are you coming back to the hotel or is there something I don't know?"

She gestured toward the neon bar sign. "Chris is in the bathroom."

"Ah," he nodded. "Have you seen Vin or Ghost?"

Jenna had to admit that, though she had been with her boyfriend for just about a month now, she still didn't have a complete hold on his bandmember's names and faces. She knew the band, sure – Ricky, Devin, Ryan, and Vinny – but which name went with which face was not always abundantly obvious to her. And who was Ghost? So, she shrugged. "Vin is the kid, right?"

The tour manager rolled his eyes. "I don't even like you," he snorted as he wandered back into the bar.

Almost instantly, Chris reappeared, sliding his wallet back into the back pocket of his black jeans. "What pissed him off?"

Hoping to avoid the uncomfortable debate that would ensue if she repeated the man's words to her boyfriend, she just shrugged dramatically. "Another day, another problem."

Her boyfriend grabbed her hand and led her toward the waiting black stretch limo, climbing in awkwardly due to his height before offering her his strong, tattooed hand. "My lady," he quipped playfully as he guided her into the vehicle and onto his lap.