Bad Boy Rich

I wasn’t one to be so vulgar with my vocabulary but this is definitely a fuck moment. I couldn’t breathe. My chest is so tight. I’m pretty certain it was going to cut off my airway and kill me right now.

He’s standing against the banister, arms folded, staring at me with savage eyes. The bandmates continue to make noise down the stairwell as Flynn hollers something crude before yelling my name.

“C’mon Mills, I’m fucking starving,” Flynn yells, bounding down the stairs, quickly looking at Wesley with confusion.

“Um, hold on. I’ll follow you there.”

Liam is waiting for me, watching the two of us back and forth. I wasn’t sure what to say. Okay, more like what the hell is happening?!

“Wesley, nice to see you.” My expression is professional, smile intact with a polite greeting.

“This is Liam. We’re all heading out to dinner. Everyone’s starving so I suggested the Chinese place around the corner. I tell you what, their Peking duck is mouthwatering…”

My nervous ramble slows down as Wesley’s expression doesn’t change, paralyzed with an

ger. He hasn’t moved an inch, nor said a word, standing eerily still in his designer ripped jeans, black tee and Adidas sneakers. I hated that he looked so hot.

Liam extends his hand, waiting patiently for Wesley, who shakes it moments later. “So, you’re a friend of Milly’s.”

“If you say so.”

“Okay, so we better head off…unless you want to join us?”

Wesley smirks, dismissing Liam’s respectful tone. “Sure, why not.”

It was the most awkward five-minute walk around the block. I spent most of the time staring at the pavement, occasionally engaging in idle chitchat and the moment I saw the place, I breathed a huge sigh of relief, slipping into the table and sitting beside Flynn. Then, I realized it meant Wesley and Liam would have to sit next to each other.

With much reluctance, I swap seats so that Liam is next to Flynn.

After a quick introduction between Flynn, the bandmates, and Wesley, we order food and throw ourselves into random conversations. Liam and Flynn talk about music and life back home while Wesley just sits in silence.

I lean forward, playing with my serviette and whispering into the dessert menu that I had purposely raised to cover my face. “You didn’t say you’d be back.”

“It’s amazing what you can come back to without warning.”

“Wesley,” I continue with a low voice, “let me explain, later.”

Mrs. Ling brings out the dishes; sizzling with steam coming off the plates. There’s the famous duck, egg rolls, classic orange chicken and something that looked rather questionable.

We each serve ourselves before Liam decides to open the conversation.

“How do you know each other?”

I’m quick to jump in, praying that Wesley doesn’t say anything about our encounters. “Work. Wesley and Emerson run a business so we only hang out for business stuff.”

The lie travels nicely, and dissolves into my talk about Emerson’s new line until Wesley opens his mouth.

“I wouldn’t say just business,” he mutters with a trace of sarcasm.

“Hey, now I know where I’ve seen you from. You played guitar with Hanlon Marx.” Flynn is oblivious to the back-and-forth tension going on, mouthful of duck and pointing his fork at Wesley.

“You play guitar?” I ask rather loudly. “How did I not know that?”

“I thought you said you only discuss business,” Liam voices with a jealous bite.

I backtrack through my words, anxiety building from this awkward meal setting. “Yes, Wesley is just in the media a fair bit and I read an article on Emerson and um…”

“Emerson and I were engaged,” Wesley adds with too much enjoyment. “A great woman.”