Page 21 of The Fire Walker
“No,” I admitted. “I was just gonna wing it. I don’t know that much aboutLA.”
As we walked down the hall, she began chatting like we were old friends, and my chestswelled.
“Well, I was looking online, and I found this traditional American diner that is meant to be amazing,” she said. “So as you’re a guest in this country, it’s my duty to give you the fulltreatment.”
I hoped the full treatment included a kiss at the end of thenight.
“Greasy, sugar, fat-loaded carbs,” shedeclared.
I raised aneyebrow.
“What? Can’t a girl eat a greasy hamburger once in awhile?”
“Sounds good.” I pressed the button to the elevator about a milliontimes.
“Don’t do that. It doesn’t come any faster if you keep pushing it.” She grabbed my hand, pulling it away from thebutton.
Instantly, I felt sparks run up my skin. You know, up until that point I thought that was crap made up for girls to read about in romance novels, but her skin against mine was… Well, I imagine that was what it would feel like to stick a knife in a toaster and fry yourself. Then as we stood in the elevator car on the way down to the foyer, the air felt like it was crackling. How could Inotfeelthat?
The door opened with a ding, and fresh air hit my flushed face. As Jessie walked out in front of me, I let my gaze travel down her back, across her ass, and down to her shoes, which were those slouchy biker boots women liked to wear.Nice.
“The diner’s just down the street, actually,” she said, almost catching me staring at her backside. “We can walk it if youwant.”
“Sure.” She could have said anything right then, and my answer would’ve still been thesame.
The place she took me to was actually pretty nice. It was exactly like the diners in TV shows and movies. A nineteen sixties time warp, complete with jukebox and red and white checkered tablecloths. The waitress put us in a booth by the window, and I slid into the seat across from Jessie, fidgeting with the menu that was shoved under mynose.
“Get whatever you want,” I said. “Mytreat.”
“Oh, so he’s old-fashioned,” Jessiejoked.
“Unfortunately.”
“Why is it unfortunate? Girls like guys who buy them dinner.” She winked, and I felt a flush rising in my cheeks like I was a sixteen-year-oldboy.
“Girls like the bad guys. There’s not much call for putting jackets over puddles thesedays.”
“Well, you’ve obviously been hanging around the wrong women then,” she said, flipping open her menu. “Now for the full American experience, you need cheesy fries. It’scompulsory.”
Thankful that she’d changed the subject, we put together the fattest, greasiest meal we could manage—which wasn’t hard—and the waitress took our order with a raised eyebrow. A few minutes later, we had two strawberry milkshakes in front of us, complete with whipped cream and cherries on top. Jessie’s eyes were bright like she was having the time of her life. It was so low key I instantlyrelaxed.
“So have you been here before?” she asked, getting the conversationgoing.
“America?” I replied. “No, it’s my firsttime.”
“How do you like it?” She dipped her finger into the cream, slid it into her mouth, and sucked.Damn.
“It’s okay. It’s good to be someplacedifferent.”
“Have you been anywhere else?” Her finger slid over her lips and back to thecream.
“I’ve never really traveled,” I said, trying to keep focus. “I mean, I wanted to, but I had to sacrifice a lot of things to get to where I am now with the band andeverything.”
“I know what you mean.” She sighed and leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table and affording me a bird’s-eye view right down hertop.
“You mean interning?” I asked, glancing away before she noticed me staring at herbreasts.
“Yeah. It’s unpaid, so I have to work elsewhere to pay thebills.”
