Sequel: Happily Ever After
Status: Complete

Even Lovers Drown

Chapter 14

"Found them," Davy said, slinging his arm over Saylor's shoulder and forcing her to move.

Saylor stared up at him, shocked. There was something very clearly wrong with the seating arrangement, and he didn't seem to be seeing it. He was too busy thinking about his orange soda to notice.

"Switch seats with me," Saylor said.

Davy's breakfast, pancakes and an orange soda, had been placed next to Andy, a move likely made by Sarah and Jenny. The spot wasn't exactly ideal. If Saylor could have it her way, she would be sitting across the dining room area from Blake. But switching with Davy would mean not having to sit so close to her that their arms or legs would touch. She had no doubt in her mind Blake would call any skin-to-skin contact an accident to get away with it. She wasn't so sure Davy would give up his seat though.

"What?" He scanned the table, realization lighting in his green eyes. "No way," he whined.

"Davy, please."

"But I want to sit next to Andy."

Saylor would have found his persistence cute, endearing. He liked Andy. The crush was obvious to her, maybe obvious to the rest of the crew. Davy wanted to be around Andy. They didn't have as much time together when they stopped at venues. Davy was with the merch workers and Andy was everywhere, making sure the show went well. Saylor should have been more than willing to let Davy sit next to Andy and flirt.

"Just this once," Saylor begged.

But she was being sat next to Blake. With her sanity at stake, Davy would be just fine flirting with Andy from across the table. She couldn't sit next to Blake. That was like being sat next to Katie.

"Nope," Davy said, putting an end to the conversation and stopping them next to the table. Bright smile on his face, he said, "Hey, guys."

Conversations halted and faces turned to them, all smiling to some extent. None were probing for the reason of their late appearance but were relaxed and friendly. Not fake, not laced with cruel intentions. Yet, Saylor couldn't help feeling nervous under the stares.

Specifically Blake's.

She looked nice, dressed in a white tank top and black cargo pants, her blonde curls in their usual tousled state. Her blue eyes pierced Saylor, standing out against Blake's lightly tanned skin without makeup. Mirth danced in their depths and a smile played on her lips.

"Look who decided to show up," Blake said.

She was convinced Saylor wasn't going to show up for breakfast. Davy's sister had done a good job of avoiding her for the length of the concert. Quickly packing up, staying in the van instead of meeting the band backstage with Davy for a little first-concert celebratory drink, not watching them while they performed.

Oh, Blake had noticed.

Saylor hadn't skipped on eating with the crew though, probably due to some of Davy's persistence. Blake would have a little time to try getting her to loosen up, a first step in getting into her pants. That was her ultimate goal, and she would accomplish it. By the end of tour, Saylor would be begging for it. Blake just needed to take a few baby steps first.

"What'd you do, get lost in the parking lot?" Sarah joked.

Next to her, Jenny giggled. They were hard to tell apart. Best friends who did their makeup the same, had the same build, had the same hair and eye color, like twins but not quite. A whole conversation with them gave Blake insight on how to tell them apart. Sarah had a tendency to talk first, start conversation or crack jokes. Jenny didn't. She wasn't shy. That clearly wasn't the case or she wouldn't talk at all. She liked letting Sarah take charge.

"Had to a get a few things squared away," Davy said.

He slid into the empty seat next to Andy and smirked up at Saylor. She glared at him, making no moves to sit in her appointed spot. Davy, her brother, her protector against all things threatening, was really going to make her sit next to Blake. That jerk.

"Come sit," Blake said, drawing Saylor's attention to her, and patted the empty spot of the booth.

And she smiled at Saylor. Not one of teasing or cocky pursuit, just an easy smile that suited her face far better than the others Saylor had seen in person. The beating of her heart seemed to quicken, the unsteady tempo abnormally audible to Saylor. Heat traveled up her neck, and she was sure she would be bright red in seconds if she didn't sit down and keep from looking at Blake's face.

"Um, yeah, okay," Saylor mumbled.

Awkwardly, she perched in her seat, careful not to initiate any contact between her body and Blake's. She hung her head, her hair creating a veil around her flushed face, and stared at her food from beneath her lashes. Steam rose from the egg and cheese biscuit, a demand that she eat it now before it could cool to a dissatisfying lukewarm. The hash browns sat delicately beside them, waiting to be eaten with patience the biscuit didn’t have.

But Saylor couldn't bring herself to touch her food. With Blake sitting so close, she wasn't sure she could breathe. Her chest was tight, her stomach buzzed nervously. Existing in Blake's presence was hard enough, no exhaustion as Saylor's buffer to converse with her. Being forced to eat around her, that was some sick joke.

This was ridiculous. She could eat around another woman. So what if Blake was next to her. Sage was a sitting a few people away, and Saylor wasn't worried about her. She shouldn't have been worried about Blake either. Blake was just another woman. A cocky woman who was used to getting what she wanted, but a woman nevertheless.

Saylor took a deep breath, hoping to relax her nerves enough to take a few bites of food. The light scent of peppermint tickled her nose, not the scent of dried sweat she expected in such close quarters. Delicious. Far better than the smell of her own food.

She didn't need to figure out where or who the scent was radiating from. She knew. Blake, dabbed in the refreshing scent, fit so perfectly with it that Saylor couldn't imagine any other woman attempting to wear it. Each whiff excited Saylor's body. The jitters in her stomach refused to calm. Her heart hammered against her ribcage. It took every ounce of her willpower to keep from shifting closer to Blake to inhale more of the peppermint.

Strange. Saylor was afraid of this woman. Painfully so. Everything she did reminded her of the ex that drowned her spirit. Yet her body announced otherwise, begging her to shift closer to Blake, though Saylor's mind demanded she stay put or risk getting hurt. Her subconscious plagued her with memories of Katie in her sleep and waking hours, things she had been able to stifle in the past year. Warnings, danger signs, caused by Blake that her body desired to ignore over the simple scent of peppermint and a cute smile.

Why? Why would Blake illicit such an extreme set of reactions when Sage, the only other woman Saylor knew on tour that would have the power to make her that uncomfortable, didn't? Sage existed as much as Blake did. They were two women around the same age as Katie. They should have equally made her a nervous wreck.

But Sage didn't talk to her, hardly looked at her. Blake let her eyes drift. Blake asked her for favors that could never be fulfilled in Saylor's state of mind. Blake was dangerous. Blake was confident, cocky, attractive, the type Saylor seemed drawn to. Blake had potential to become something more. And that was possibly the most frightening realization Saylor could have ever come to.

Blake watched Saylor from her peripheral vision, pretending to be engaged in her band mate's conversation about the previous and upcoming shows. The subject would have been one she was excited about, but with Davy's sister sitting so close, she didn't care. Saylor, her red hair shielding her face from view, was what she wanted. She needed to understand Saylor, to know her better than she knew herself.

The quiet redhead wasn't giving her much to work with, just tense slouched shoulders that could use a massage. Her alleged favorite breakfast food hadn't been touched. There had to be something Blake could use to tug at her heart strings. If she could get Saylor to talk, she could get a little information out of her.

How to engage her in conversation was a difficult hurtle to overcome. Saylor didn't like her. Anything she said could, and likely would, be used against her at some point. Davy was of no use, wrapped in conversation with Andy. She didn't have the heart to interrupt their short time together.

Aside from him, she didn't think anyone else could force Saylor out of herself, make her talkative. The two merch girls she worked with didn't make her uncomfortable, that much was obvious, but they hadn't made enough of a connection with her to get her to talk. They couldn't even make her coffee. Blake had to take care of that.

The imaginary, fluorescent light bulb lit in her mind. Her eyes snapped to the Styrofoam cup next to hers, the one she forgot to move. Saylor's coffee. She almost felt stupid for not thinking of it sooner. The forgotten coffee was something small enough to keep her from offending Saylor and strong enough to spark a conversation. Perfect.

"Oh, Saylor, I made your coffee," Blake said, grabbing the cup and offering it to her.

Saylor turned her head, her curtain of red hair moving from her face, wary green eyes looking from her to the cup. Blake had her attention. Maybe not the most positive attention, Saylor's gaze being less than trustful or open, but she had it and that was what mattered.
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Dakota Ray