I had been thinking of my brothers when I said they. It was a slip and I felt silly about it but he was being forthcoming, so I decided to do the same. “I’m the only girl in a band of brothers, and my brothers think that gives them the right to pick and choose who I spend my time with. It’s annoying. I was thinking of them.”
He bobbed his head in a way that showed both realization and understanding. “As men, they kind of raise us to think that protection is our job.”
“Yeah, I get that but when your protection becomes control, it stinks.” I started ranting. “Also, protection from what? I have every right to date and make mistakes and be stupid. Just like everyone else. I don’t want to be protected or controlled. And honestly, I’m a sure shot from two hundred yards. People should protect themselves from me.”
He laughed. And then he seemed to consider what I said for a bit. I felt like I was literally watching someone act out the verb to mull. After a few minutes, he said, “Okay, but even if we were to table all the layers that make me nervous, it’s still not a good idea for talent and crew to fraternize.”
“Understood,” I confirmed, disappointed but smart enough to know that I didn’t want to make a mess of things or become the talk of the town on my first tour, which I wasn’t even totally certain I deserved to be on.
“So, friends then?” he asked.
“Friends it is.” I tried to sound chipper but there was clearly disappointment in my voice.
We were both quiet for a while, digesting what had just happened between us. I kept sneaking glances at his forearms. They were so masculine, striated with muscles and covered with tattoos. We might have chosen to be friends, but I was definitely still going to harbor some sexy feelings. I huffed out a sigh.
Breaking the tension between us, he joked, “Well, that’s a fucking bummer.”
Was it ever.