Everything I Want (17 page)

After the dip is finished and I’m on my third beer, we start talking a little louder. It always happens when we are all together getting drunk. It’s only around five now, so there aren’t many people in here yet. I glance at the pool table beside me, and I kind of want to play, even though I suck, it’s still fun.

“Who’s up for a game?”

I point my chin over toward the pool table. The guys are all listening to a story that Matt’s telling about the last city whore he fucked.

“Well, I’m going to rack them. Who’s ever down, join me.”

Jared nods and uses his finger to tell me to wait one minute. Before I set up the rack, I decided it was time to get a little buzz on first. The dip really filled me up. Leaning on the counter by the bar, I wave to the bartender. He is a short man with long hair pulled back into a ponytail. He has these little round glasses pushed down at the end of his nose and a button-down shirt on that looks kind of wrinkly.

“What will it be, doll?” he asks me while wiping the counter down.

“I’ll have a shot of tequila and a gin and tonic please.”

The bartender nods at my order and busies himself, making my drinks.

I won’t drink like this all night, but I’m too damn full to drink anymore beer right now. He places my shot and drink down in front of me and he pushes over the salt. I pick up the salt and lick the top of my hand and start shaking the salt on it. I place the salt down and grab the lime wedge that he placed on the side of my drink. I lick my hand quickly and grab the shot. After I’m done with the shot, I hurry and quickly bite into the lime.

“All right, Sophia!”

Roger is standing from the table, clapping a couple of times. He must’ve seen me do the shot. I peel out the lime wedge and grab my other drink, lifting it in the air at him. He did want us to party, so here I go.

Making my way over to the table, I set my drink down on the ledge. I start placing the balls in the rack, moving around in the order of where I think they have to go.
Think, Sophia.
I’ve seen Matt and his friends back home do this plenty of times before. I’m too preoccupied with my task at hand to even hear the guys at the table clap. I was concentrating on which order these stupid balls have to go when someone from behind me grabs down on my waist.

I jerk quickly to see who touched me but stop suddenly when Tristan’s body is rubbed up against mine. He looks down at me, smiling and showing off his gorgeous mouth and full lips of his.

I step off to the side a bit to escape the closeness of him to me. He leans his back on the table, crossing his arms. He tilts his chin up to me.

“You play?” he asks.

I can’t stop staring at him. His jeans hang off his hips slightly, and he has just a black T-shirt on. With how muscular he is though, the shirt looks like it wants to rip off of him. Damn… He bites his lip as I see him checking me out from head to toe; then he turns toward the table.

“Wanna play?”

Play? Play what? With him? Oh shit, he means pool. I look back over at the rack I was setting up, and Tristan is switching some of the balls I had placed in there. Correcting me, I guess. I walk over to the wall, not saying anything to him and reach for a cue. Turning around, he’s just staring at me again.

I grab the white ball and place it in front of the others that are set up. Tristan brushes past me as he grabs his cue. Grabbing some chalk, he quickly rubs the tip of it on his cue a couple times before placing it on the ledge of the table.

“Break?”

He points with his cue stick at the rack, asking me if I want to go first. Nodding to him, I walk over and position myself on the table. Lining up the stick with the cue ball and using my thumb to rest on the table, I take a shot. Balls go clinking around the table, and a couple stripes go in. Smiling, I walk over and take another shot. Unfortunately, I missed this time.
Shit!
Tristan is smiling at me then studies the table for his shot. He gracefully leans in and takes his shot. A couple balls go in as well. He strides over to the other side, and again, a couple more go in. I can already tell that this will be over soon.

He misses his next shot. Thank god. He only has a few balls left, and I still have most of mine. Now though, all my stripes are in awkward positions. Trying to lean in, I can’t get a good shot; so I walk over to the side and rest my hips up on the table, stretching out for my shot. I know this move is really not allowed, but it’s the only way I can stay in the game with Tristan over here. When I hit the cue ball, it pushes my stripe into a pocket. Climbing off the table, Tristan’s eyes are alight. He was watching me crawl and stretch on the table. I didn’t really think about it, but it must have been a sight.

Tristan is grinning but still silent. He takes his next shot, which drops his remaining balls in. Fuck! He’s good. The only one left now is the damn eight ball. And before I could blink, he sinks that one in, barely tapping the cue stick on the white ball.

He tosses his stick on the table and looks over to me, with me still holding tightly on to mine.

“Want to get out of here?”

Yes. I mean, I should be with the boys tonight but… I look over to them; and they’re all over the place, drinking and mingling.

“Let me just let Matt know.”

Tristan smiles, and I walk over to Matt and tap him on his shoulder.

“Hey, I don’t feel so good.”

Matt looks over to me concern, and I just feel awful about lying to him.

“Are you okay Sophia?”

“Yeah, I think that dip got to me is all. I’ll be fine.”

I give him a reassuring smile.

“Let me take you back.”

“No, no. I’m fine really. Stay.”

I hug him, and then I walk out the door. Tristan is outside in front of the SUV, waiting for me. I can’t help the nerves of excitement that I start to feel.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

We drive in silence for thirty minutes out of Minneapolis. I have no idea where we’re going. Every once in a while, Tristan glances over at me. The little buzz that I did have is fading now.

Finally, we pull up to this little shack outside of the city. It kind of reminds me of a bar back home. I don’t mean Ann Arbor, where I spent the last eight years, but home where I grew up in Northern Michigan. There are a few pickup trucks parked out front and even a couple of bikes. Some people are hardcore still riding them around in the middle of October, especially in these colder states. One day it could rain, and on the next it could snow.

Phil pulls up to the door and asks, “Do you want me to wait around awhile, Tristan?”

Tristan, grabbing the door handle, shakes his head.

“Nah. I’ll call you when we’re ready.”

I wonder what Phil will be doing while we’re inside. And how long will we be inside, too? Scooting over the seat, Tristan reaches for my hand. I shiver on the inside at the sweet gesture. Taking hold of his hand, I jump down from the SUV.

“Where the hell are we?” I ask, covering my upper arms with my hands, my forearms crossed over my chest.

“It’s cool. Just this little place I know. Just the locals usually. Not like the crowd you get in the city.”

Tristan places his hand on my lower back and leads me to the door. Suddenly I feel self-conscious. If I would have known we were going to a small town bar, maybe I would’ve just put a T-shirt on and not some corset with the tops of my breasts bulging out.

Tristan uses his other hand and swings open the wooden door. Music is blaring in the background. I know it must only be around six, seven at the latest. To my relief, they’re not playing country. Stepping inside, I scan the room: a few men sit at the bar, a couple plays pool, and only one of the tables has a group.

“What do you think?” Tristan grins at me.

Smiling back, I shrug my shoulders and say, “It works.”

He shakes his head, grinning, and leads me to a table that’s more in the center of the tiny bar. Checking it out, it’s pretty “hills style” in here. The walls are made of cedar, I think, with different kinds of beer paraphernalia decor on them. There are mounted deer and bear heads and some fish. The bar wraps around in a U shape around the perimeter with the one side having some tables laid out and a jukebox in the corner. The other side of the bar has a few more tables with a foosball and pool table pushed off in the corner.

Grabbing a hold of the chair, I pull it out from underneath the table. A couple of men turn to look at me. Yep, I might have to grab Tristan’s jacket later. Oh wait! I think he left it in the SUV. Shit!

Well then, I need a drink. And, besides, I doubt that anyone will try anything. I showed up with the sexy version of Paul Bunyan, so I should be okay. Tristan bends down, holding the table.

“Going to get us a round. Beer good?”

Nodding to him, I smile and turn my face away. This is so insane that I’m having a casual night with Tristan.

I watch him stalk over to the bar. There’re no servers at this place, just one little old man. Tristan slides some money across the bar at him and looks to me as he speaks.

The little old man grabs a pitcher from the shelf and goes over to the tap and begins to fill it. I doubt it’s Coors light, but I don’t really care right now either. Being around Tristan when he’s not being a jerk, or um… fucking me, is different, but I like it. I have so many butterflies in my stomach right now with anticipation on what tonight will bring. I’m down with having a good time and getting to know him. And I’m also anxious to see what tonight will bring after we’re done with here. My smile on my face is huge now, starting to make my cheekbones hurt.

Tristan carries over the pitcher, smiling back at me.

“What?” he asks, as he sets the pitcher down. In his other hand, he has two glasses clasped between his fingers.

Peering up at him, I shake my head and say, “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me, Sophia. What?”

He sits down in the chair next to me and starts pouring our drinks.

“Nothing, I swear. It’s just nice being in a place like this. Reminds me of home.”

I kind of lied, but hey, I’m not going to say “hanging out with you and possibly fucking later.”

“Oh, I know. I hate the city scene sometimes. I came across this place the last time I was touring through Minneapolis. Dave and I found it. The best part is you can get hammered and someone will bring you back where you need to go.” His smile spreads further across his face.

“Are you saying you want me to get hammered?” I quirk my eyebrow up at him, teasing.

He laughs, rubbing his hand over his scruffy face.

“Well, that’s up to you. I’m just saying, it’s nice to let go and not having to worry about the people around. I don’t know if you know this, Sophia, but eventually photos of you will start getting out everywhere. When you’re at a low-key place like this… ” He leans back with his arms out. “You don’t usually have to worry about that bullshit.”

“Yeah, I guess. I just really haven’t been thinking that far ahead. I just thought it would take years for it to come to that.”

Grabbing my beer, I take a long drink. When I place the glass back down, Tristan is staring at me with his arms draped behind him. He shrugs and leans back toward me, resting his forearms on the table.

“You may think that, but you guys are killing it. I don’t think it will be that long Sophia. Your voice is very compelling. Shit.” He pulls back and continues. “Haven’t you been reading what they’ve been saying about you?”

Oh yeah, I forgot to check that out. Shaking my head no, I reach for my beer again.

After taking another drink, I say, “No, not yet.”

I shrug my shoulders glancing down at the table.

“I guess I was too scared.”

Peering up at him through my lashes I see him sitting there still with wonder and amusement in his eyes. Tristan reaches over to take a drink of his beer and mumbles something to himself. Giving him a look, I reach for my drink again. He sets his drink down, which is almost gone already with just the one gulp.

“Well, believe me. It’s mostly good shit.”

Mostly? I jerk my head a little. What the fuck does that mean?

“Huh?”

“Oh, you know. Some people are gonna hate. I mean, you got talent and your looks are drop-dead gorgeous.”

He gestures his hands up and down my body. And the butterflies are now storming around in my stomach.

“Give yourself some credit. A lot of people can’t sing that well naturally with all this computer shit they have going on nowadays. Just jealous is all.” He presses his lips in his mouth and glances over to the jukebox. I follow his stare and wonder what kind of tunes they have going on that thing.

Leaning over to my side, I reach in my back pocket for a bill. It’s time to play DJ. Pulling out a five-dollar bill, I point at Tristan.

“I’ll be right back.”

Getting up to my feet, I make my way over to the jukebox. I was feeling Tristan’s stare on me the entire time. This feels good. Tristan is showing another side that I never knew existed. Before, I was intimidated and pissed. Now I actually like hanging out with him. Plus, he’s some good fucking eye candy. And just knowing that, maybe later, something might happen… Damn. It’s awesome.

Flipping through the songs they have to offer, I see a lot of nineties and big eighties music on here. Not really a whole lot of modern. That’s okay though. I love nineties music, so I select bands like Bush and Stone Temple Pilots.

After I’m done with my selections, I twirl on my heels and see Tristan leaning back in his chair. Watching me and smiling. Once I get back to the table, I pour myself another drink.

“What was there?” He nods over to the jukebox.

“Shouldn’t you know? Weren’t you here before?”

“I never paid attention to it.”

He licks his lips before taking another drink, finishing it off. We sit there for a while laughing about casual shit and joking around. Finally I notice my music starting to play. First choice: Bush’s “Mouth.” This song sends these tingles through me, especially with Tristan and I sitting so close to each other right now. And knowing exactly where his mouth has been… And mine, too. The images of us begin to make me feel carnal.

The little, old man bartender is on his game tonight too. He must have noticed that Tristan poured the last drink of the pitcher and comes right over making us another round. Staring at Tristan’s full lips as he runs his tongue on them makes me want to do the same with them. Only with my own tongue…

“So,” Tristan pauses and gazes at me.

“So,” I say in return. Kind of mockingly.

The little, old man sets down the pitcher and gives me a quick smile. Feeling pretty good right now, I smile back, showing all my teeth. Taking hold of the pitcher, I pour myself another drink.

“You’re a good little drinker, aren’t you?”

Tristan starts laughing and takes hold of the pitcher from me.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been watching you every time we go out. For how tiny you are, you sure can hold your booze.”

Tristan takes a drink but stares at me as he does.

“This coming from the man that betted against me a few weeks ago?”

I quirk my eyebrow at him, pressing out my lips so it looks like I’m puckering a little. Maybe it’s a little Zoolanderish, but oh well! I’m drunk!

“I only did that to piss you off”

He gives me this cocky grin. Son of a bitch. I knew it!

“Well, I hate to admit it. But it did. Just a little.”

Tristan starts laughing, and he rests his hand on my thigh. Instantly, the touch does things to me. My body starts to feel this electricity run through my veins, making it feel hot everywhere. Just a simple touch, I know; but when it’s Tristan’s hand on me, I only crave more of it. When he releases his hand, the area becomes suddenly cold. His eyes grow a bit darker when he stares at me, but he still has a half smile playing on him. I better start up another conversation, or we’ll probably end up fucking right here on this damn table. I just know it. Taking another drink, I clear my throat.

“So… ”

What to say, what to say? Being kind of fuzzy-headed right now, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“I know you said before you were pissed about the previous band and shit, but that still doesn’t give you an excuse to treat me like shit.”

Holding my glass, I stick out my index finger, pointing toward him.

“I mean… It’s not like I’m a bad person or something.”

Shit! I really have to start focusing a bit. The alcohol is starting to consume me. Just after he tells me that I can pretty much hold my own.

Tristan rolls his eyes, shaking his head. Taking a drink from his beer, he sets it down and gives me this hooded gaze. He pulls out his cell and texts someone. Placing the phone back in his pocket, he takes another drink. Not saying anything.

“What?” I ask.

Did I say something wrong? Damn booze confidence. Maybe I crossed some stupid line or something. Tristan looks right at me, not showing any emotion but the dark look in his eyes.

With a really quick, sharp answer, he growls, “No.”

Um… Okay. Whatever. I’m just going to brush it off. I thought we were becoming friends, at least while on the tour. So I should be able to speak my mind comfortably. It’s funny. Stone Temple Pilots is playing now. And the lyrics to that song go “Time to take her home, her dizzy head is conscience laden.” I kind of feel like that right now. I giggle to myself at the thought. Tristan sits up straight.

“What’s funny?” he says almost agitated.

The tone in his voice kind of throws me off guard. Sitting up straight, I blurt out, “The song.”

Using my thumb, I point toward the jukebox. Tristan looks at me funny and asks, “What about it?”

It’s almost like he’s intrigued.

Laughing again I say, “‘Time to take her home.’ I’m pretty buzzed and it just seemed funny, I guess.”

I shrug my shoulders and take another drink.

Just then, Tristan’s phone went off. He reaches down and pulls it out of his pants, not looking up at me, and says, “Let’s go.”