2 Million Lies

Chapter 3

By eleven-thirty Cyrah could have sworn she was the only sober person in the room. She snapped a picture of the guitarist and drummer from Scars on the Inside laughing together, and glanced around the room, looking for the next photo she would take, or the photographer she had come here with. She spotted her on the other side of the room, most likely a little bit drunk too.

She continued scanning the room. Her eyes fell on Shane, standing against one wall with one of his bandmates. Elijah, she thought it was. The lead singer. She quickly snapped another picture, keeping one eye on Shane.

He tapped Elijah on the shoulder, who turned to look at him. Shane whispered something in his ear, and Elijah nodded and patted him on the shoulder. Shane started heading for the door to the balcony. Perfect. She could get him alone out there. She waited a moment so she wouldn't look like she was following him, and slipped out onto the balcony.

He was standing by the railing, staring out at the city, smoking. Cyrah approached quietly, until she was standing a few feet away at the railing. "Hey." Damn, that sounded lame. She could have done so much better than hey.

He turned to look at her. "No, I won't fuck you."

She was immediately a little bit offended. "Why do you assume I wanted to sleep with you? I'm working here." She held up her camera.

"Oh." He had the decency to look a little bit ashamed at least. "Sorry. It's just-"

"That everyone wants to sleep with you? How big headed does that sound?" God, was he a jerk? If he was, this was going to be a fun six months.

"I've had six offers so far tonight, so it's not that ridiculous of an assumption."

Damn, it was impossible for her to stand out with that kind of crowd. It was mean of her to think, but she was surprised he had turned them all down.

"Don't look at me that way." He raised his cigarette to his lips.

"What?" She hadn't been aware that she was looking at him any particular way.

"Like you're surprised I turned them all down."

Oh, so he was a fucking mind reader now. "I wasn't," she lied.

"Liar." He lowered his cigarette, and blew a mouthful of smoke out towards the city below. "I have standards, I don't know what you've heard about me, but I'm not that much of a whore."

Sure he wasn't. "Nobody said you were."

He gestured accusingly towards her. "You thought it."

Great, he hated her already. Great start. But before she could say something to try and make him hate her less, he took another drag off his cigarette, sighed, and said, "I'm sorry, I'm being a dick. I have a personal policy not to be a dick to anyone unless I know their name, which I kind of just broke, so I'm going to need yours."

Oh, so now he was playing nice? Weird. "Cyrah."

"Last name?"

"Evans."

He nodded. "Cyrah's a pretty name. I assume you already know mine? I'm not going to fuck around with pretending you don't, be honest."

"Yeah, I know it." She had thought he wasn't going to sleep with her, what was he doing complimenting her name?

"I almost named a cat Cyrah once."

Oh, so not flirting. "You're a cat person, then?"

"Yeah. I haven't had one in ages though. Too much time on the road."