"We're leaving in two days. We stop by New York City in about eleven days. We're playing Madison Square Garden." Mal smiles.
"Congrats," I say.
"Thanks." He passes the hot sauce to Ethan, then his eyes are on me. "I'm sure Ethan agrees that we need somebody smart taking a second look at our numbers. Our old manager was a fuckup and I don't trust his math."
"Okay…" This seems like the perfect time to scarf down another piece of toast. Anything so I don't have to respond.
The look Ethan shoots Mal would kill a weaker man.
Mal doesn't blink. "Join us on tour. You can sightsee when we're stopped and take a second look at our numbers while we're on the road. I'm not sure how much this kind of thing runs, but I promise whatever we pay will be fair."
I clear my throat. "That's not really what I do. You'd be better off finding a CPA."
"I don't like bringing new people into the band." Mal's voice is impossible to read. "I'd rather it be you."
Ethan's blue eyes are fierce, determined. "Great idea."
What?
His eyes meet mine. It's like he's daring me to take the gig. You don't affect me at all, Vi. I don't give a fuck if you're around or not, but we both know you can't survive being around me for a week and a half.
Fuck, I practically begged him to fuck me last night.
I'm not that girl. I don't beg guys for sex. I don't beg anyone for anything.
Clearly, I can't handle being around Ethan.
My body has other ideas. It's already humming from the proximity of his body. It's already begging me to take him up on his offer.
He's sweaty from his workout. His dark, wavy hair is sticking to his head. His tattooed arms are slick. He only had one sleeve, the left, when things ended. Now he has a right sleeve too. It's as bright and vibrant as his eyes.
He takes a deep breath, stretching his arms over his head. I can see inches of his taught stomach. I can see that flash of pubic hair. The happy trail. God, that was a happy place.
My body screams Ethan, please give me Ethan.
It's not a good idea being around him. Even if it will get me out of my parents' house. Even if I need the cash.
Even if I miss him as much as I miss Asher.
I shake my head. "Thanks, Mal, but—"
"Think about it," Mal says.
I slide off my seat and take a step towards the door. "I'm going to call a cab." And wait for it far, far away.
"I'll drive you home, Vi," Ethan says. "We need to talk."
Talk? Uh-uh. I don't have anything to say to Ethan besides fuck you for making me feel like my dreams were worthless, or maybe fuck me in the backseat of your car.
"Just need ten minutes to shower." Ethan nods to the kitchen island. "Have another cup of tea."
I wouldn't mind another cup of tea.
I certainly don't mind the vivid mental images of pounding water dripping off Ethan's naked body.
Still, I should say no.
When I open my mouth to speak, words refuse to fall. I don't say no, that's okay. Or, actually, I'm going somewhere out of the way.