It doesn't help my confidence.
Miles pulls me onto his lap. His cock is right under my sex. I'm wearing the lace underwear he bought me at the boutique. It's practically transparent.
I squeeze my knees together. There's no sense in flashing the other guys in the band.
Miles presses his lips against my neck, holding me the way Tom is holding the pretty redhead—-like I'm a trophy.
He addresses the other guys. "Don't mention this to the Guitar Prince, okay?"
"You call Drew the Guitar Prince?" I ask.
Pete nods. "Should hear what we call Tom behind his back."
"Fuck you." The drummer pouts.
Pete points to the redhead in Tom's lap. "I'm not one to wait in line." He throws his hand over the side of his mouth, like he's going to whisper. "It's Sticks for Brains. Not the most creative, but it gets the point across."
"Guitar Prince and Miles can coast on talent. What the hell are you offering?" Tom asks.
"Sex appeal." Pete smiles.
"Can it, Sticks," Miles says. "We all know you're not going to fire your brother."
I look from Pete to Tom. Tom has green eyes and dirty blond hair, a mix of young Brad Pitt and Kurt Cobain. Pete has dark eyes and black hair. They're both handsome and well-built, but they look nothing alike.
"Don't worry about me, Meg," Pete says. "I don't share any bloodlines with Sticks. We're foster brothers."
"Adopted," Tom corrects.
I bite my tongue, silently praying for any other conversation topic. Anything besides family.
Tom kisses his pretty lap girl on the cheek and sends her away. Once she's out of earshot, he leans in close and makes eye contact with Miles. "I'm not sure what you two are doing, but Drew will kill you if you fuck things up with that slutty girl, and then I'll be out a guitarist and a singer."
My hands curl into fists. "Hey, asshole, that's my best friend, and she's not slutty. She just has big boobs. And even if she was, she wouldn't appreciate you talking about her like that. So why don't you shut the fuck up?"
"Or you'll ask Miles to shut me up," Tom offers.
Miles presses his lips into my neck. "Please ask. I'd love an excuse."
I shake my head. "I don't want to hear another word about my friend or about Drew. Got it?"
Tom nods. There's annoyance all over his face, but he nods.
Pete laughs. "Damn, you're not even getting pussy and you're whipped. Banging those drum sticks must be frying your brain."
"You play bass in an emo band, asshole. Do you actually do anything?" Tom asks.
"You still doubt that I'm the sexiest member of Sinful Serenade?" Pete asks. "Meg, back me up. I'm way hotter than your boy toy, right?"
Tom butts in before I can even fathom a response. "'Cause that whole 'girl you know I've got steady rhythm' thing is so hot."
Pete winks at me. "Meg knows what I'm talking about."
I blush and squeeze my legs together again. Miles laughs, and he tilts me so my knees are facing away from the guys, so I'm only at risk of flashing the wall.
"Cindy knows what he's talking about," Miles says. "And we've heard what he's talking about in lurid detail."
Pete blushes, but there's a wealth of confidence in his eyes. "You have to admit—I last a long time."
