“We need a minute,” Gavin practically growls at her.
Once she’s gone, I take a sip of my water while maintaining eye contact with him. Whatever is happening between us, it’s important. And I don’t want to miss a single second of it.
“You act like I’m trying to lure you into bed. I’m not. I just want to know why you don’t ever—”
“Listen to me, and listen close. You and me? We are not having this conversation. Not here, not now, and not ever. Is that clear?” His words, his tone, his penetrating glare—all of it—jump-starts my heart until it’s a battering ram inside my chest.
I fold my arms over my chest. “Oh yeah? Well I say we are.”
“Well you can have it with your fucking self then. I’ll get my food to go.” He shoves back from the table, scraping his chair roughly against the tile floor as he stands.
I flinch because he doesn’t talk to me like this. Or at least he never has before. I both love it and hate it. It’s hot and terrifying all at once.
“Gav, wait. Please. I’m sorry.” I reach out and wrap my fingers around his wrist, which he jerks from my grasp as if I’ve electrocuted him. I fold my hands in my lap and stare up at him with pleading eyes.
He glares at me for what feels like ten lifetimes before he lowers himself back into his seat and trains his attention back on his menu. For the next few minutes I try to make eye contact, to bring him back to that place we were in moments ago when we were connected. But he’s dead set on ignoring me.
“I’m torn between the pesto penne and Olivia’s Alfredo,” I say, to let him know he’s off the hook. For now.
He cuts his eyes back to me, cautiously, as if testing to see if I’ve really let it go. I haven’t, but I’m going to have to take it easier on him if I want actual answers.
“Order the pesto and I’ll get the Alfredo. We’ll split halfway,” he relents.
I let the hint of a smile play on my lips and nod. When we were kids, I could never decide between chocolate and strawberry ice cream. Gavin always got chocolate and then traded me for my pink cone when I was ready. Even though Dallas gave him hell about it.
“Wipe that smirk off your face. I was going to get the Alfredo anyways.”
“Mm-hm. Sure you were.” My lips twitch and I’m about to remind him about the ice cream when the waitress returns.
“Y’all ready?”
Gavin gives her that freaking grin again. The one he never gives to me. “Yeah, darlin’. We’re ready.” He orders our pasta and hands her the menus. Once again my stomach tenses and turns.
“Put the claws away, baby. Let’s just enjoy our dinner.”
My face has betrayed me by putting my emotions on display. I contort it into a smile that he can probably tell is forced.
“I’ll try. It’d help if you’d stop eye-fucking the waitress.”
Both of his brows go up in surprise. His intrigued gaze drops to my mouth and I’m reminded of what he said about dirty words and clean mouths. I roll my lower lip between my teeth and lean forward.
“Gavin,” I say, drawing his attention back to my eyes. “I’m not trying to piss you off. But we do need to talk. Soon.”
“No,” he says evenly, his eyes latching on to mine. “We don’t.”
“We’re in a band together. We’re about to spend a week practically living together. You can’t just pretend there’s nothing going on, that you don’t feel it. I know that you do.”