The Bird and the Worm

The hostess returned to the table, pulling a small notepad and a pen from her apron. “Hey guys, I’m Bridget. Are you ready to order, or are you going to need a few more minutes?” The
famous line uttered by millions of waitresses worldwide.

“I think we’re good,” was the general consensus.

Bridget smiled at Brian, but he shook his head. “Ladies first,” he said with a smile, and Bridget took note of what I was pointing at on my menu. The name of the dish was something I was fairly certain I wouldn’t be able to get right, considering Brian’s thumb was running over the back of my hand. When it was his turn, he ordered with a nonchalant tone in his voice, and when he was finished, he folded up his menu and handed it to the waitress along with mine.

The rest of the guys did the same, and I licked my lips as I realized how dry they were. I took a sip of my Coke as a solution, and it helped a little, but I could feel some dryness lingering. Jimmy smiled at me, and he nudged my foot under the table, glancing at Brian then back at me. “Do it, you know you want to, damn it,” he said, and he winked. Brian looked over at me, and he quirked an eyebrow.

“Am I missing something?” he asked, amused, eyeing me warily. I smiled sweetly and batted my eyes.

“No, nothing at all,” I responded, and I batted my eyes again. He sighed, shaking his head, and I touched my hand to the side of his face. “You just smell like peppermint.” So I only wanted to see if you tasted like it, too, before you shove your face full of bacon and eggs. He raised an eyebrow at me, but otherwise pretty much nuzzled into my hand.

“Aw sweet she’s gonna kiss him. Go Heather,” Matt rooted, snickering. “Ow fuck. What the hell, Jimmy?”

“Shut up, dude. You’re probably killing the mood.”

“Don’t fucking stare at them, dude, that’s creepy.”

I smiled as my face inched closer to Brian’s, and his eyes closed, his warm breath washing over my face, just like it had on the couch backstage. But this time, it was me testing the moment- so it was stupid that I was about to kiss him in a pancake house, but I just wanted to see how comfortable he was with me. So far, he was alright. I hesitated for a moment, making sure it was alright, but he brought his face closer to mine, our lips separated by a mere half of an inch. Without saying a word, he was asking me what I was waiting for. I closed my eyes, and I heard the band telling each other to ‘keep your fucking eyes covered’ while my lips gently touched Brian’s.

He exhaled softly against my lips, and he brought his hand to my face, letting his lips push gently against mine as he kissed me back. My mind was racing at a million miles a minute, just like it had been last night, the first time he’d kissed me. There was no way that this was real. I was not kissing Synyster Gates. He was not kissing me back. He was not holding on to my hand and stroking it like I was his girlfriend. He was not smiling against my lips as though this was all he’d ever wanted. I was not becoming best friends with Avenged Sevenfold.

He was not allowing me to marvel in how smooth his lips were- this was insanity.

He drew back after a few more moments, and he stroked my face, brushing a lock of my hair from my eyes, smiling at me. “And where did that come from?” he asked.

I blushed. “I dunno. You did say that these three days were mine and, well, my lips were dry.”

“Well at least you have some confidence,” he teased, winking. I glanced over at Jimmy, who looked like he was just about choking with satisfaction. “Glad I could be your chap stick.”

“Thanks, Brian.”

“For?” he questioned, his eyes making it impossible for me to relinquish his gaze.

“For being so nonchalant with me. I mean…most rock stars would have treated me like a groupie the minute they knew I liked kissing them…”

“Well then. I guess that proves it, guys.”

“Huh?”

“We’re not every other rock band, are we?”

The guys laughed. “No,” Matt said. “I guess not.”

The mood changed after that, and endless minutes of random conversation passed as we waited for our food. The topic changed from Brian’s inability to change a set of guitar strings to Jimmy’s frustration with his half-ruined drum set (a result of Johnny jumping drunkenly onto his kick drum and ‘falling like a fucking idiot’, as Jimmy put it) to what song they would start out with tonight. I laughed harder in those minutes of conversation than I had in the nineteen years I’d been alive. The guys were so cool with each other, teasing each other and nudging each other in the arm or the side, that not only did I laugh harder than ever before, but I also began to feel closer to them by simply listening to their stories and laughing along with them at the end.

By the time our food arrived, most of the other patrons had left, and Brent and his band had gone, which left us at our table with Bridget the Playboy bunny wannabe to talk to. Expertly, she handed each of us our plates, this time deciding not to flirt with Brian with her green eyes, and then walked away with a friendly smile. At least she’d gotten the message- he wasn’t surrendering himself from me until two days from now, when my time with him was over.

We ate in silence, for the most part, and Brian kept a hold of my hand, so he and I ended up eating with one hand while remaining connected with the other. Jimmy kept glancing at us, keeping an eye on his closest friend and appreciating seeing him smile slightly to himself because he had someone beside him for now. Even though the choking with satisfaction had died down, there was still something in his eyes- a longing, almost.

But since I wasn’t perfect at reading eyes, I didn’t trust myself to make a judgment on what he might have been thinking. I simply ate away at my pancakes, trying to figure out if Jimmy was right or not. It wasn’t until I got to the middle of the second one from the bottom that I realized what he meant- there was a certain kick to the flavor that certainly hadn’t been there before.

“Holy hell.”

“Ha HA take that, Matt, Heather tastes it too! What the fuck now?”’

Matt sighed, laughing a little. “Maybe you were right, Jimmy. Hey. Heather.” I glanced up at him. “Let me have a bite of that.” I quirked an eyebrow. “Oh. Sorry. You’re not one of the guys. I forgot that for a second.” My eyebrow remained quirked. “Could I have a small piece of one of your pancakes?”

I laughed. “Yeah, sure, go for it.” He jabbed at a piece with his fork, and then he chewed on it (literally) for a moment before his eyes widened in realization.

“Holy fuckin’ hell. That’s fuckin…”

“Told you, asshole,” Jimmy grunted, folding his arms over his chest, finished with his meal already. There was a small smirk on his lips. His eyebrow was quirked, and he was glancing over at Matt through the corners of his eyes, rapping his fingers on his arm, and waiting.

“Alright, damn it. You were right. There’s something in that fuckin pancake.”

“Thank you, damn it.”

A few more minutes of silence ensued before we had all finished our meals. Coolly, Matt picked up the bill when Bridget brought it over to us, and he fished the payment out of his wallet. Then, we all got up and left, Brian’s arm around my waist, holding me to his side.