Falling out of Hate with You: Hate - Love Duet Book One by Rowe, Lauren (novel books to read txt) 📕

So, I decide, interested or not, to let Laila think she’s not the only one who’ll be getting laid tonight.

“Come here,” I say to the waitress. I motion to her to lean closer, like I’m going to tell her a secret, and she follows my command with obvious excitement. I lean in, my body language shifting into fuckboy mode, the same way it did when I hit on Georgina at Reed’s party. “What’s your name, beautiful?”

“Desiree,” she replies breathlessly. And I can almost see her heart pounding against her sternum.

“That’s a sexy name. What’s your favorite Fugitive Summer song?”

She doesn’t hesitate. “‘Come with Me.’”

It’s not a surprise. I don’t know if that song is genuinely a top favorite for all the women who’ve claimed as much. All I know is that song has gotten me laid more times than I can count. Whenever they say they love that one, in particular—my band’s most brazenly sexual song—and then look at me the way this waitress is looking at me now—I can pretty much count on the next thing the woman says making it clear she’s down to fuck.

The waitress licks her lips and adds, “I listen to that song a lot, Savage. A lot, a lot.”

It’s been a while since I’ve had this particular conversation, simply because I grew tired of leading women down this predictable path. But I guess it’s like riding a bike. You never truly forget how to ride, no matter how long it’s been. Especially when you’re trying to make a certain pop star with blazing blue eyes and sensual lips feel the same thing you’ve been feeling all night. Seething jealousy.

I glance at Laila to make sure she’s still watching the show. She is. So, I decide to turn up the heat. Raising my voice a bit, for Laila’s benefit, of course, I ask the waitress, “What are you doing later tonight, Desiree?”

“Nothing at all. I get off at midnight and don’t work again until four tomorrow.”

“That’s convenient,” I say. “As luck would have it, we’ve got a free day tomorrow. No travel. No show. I was planning to chill in my hotel room tomorrow.”

Her ample chest heaves with excitement. “If you’d like some company, I could give you my number . . .”

“Sounds good.” I glance at Laila again as I pull out my phone, and her face is a forest fire. At my prompting, the waitress tells me her number, and I make a big show of making sure I’ve entered it correctly.

“Yep, that’s it,” the waitress says. “I hope you call me tonight.”

“I will,” I say, although I’m not sure that’s true. As long as I get her to sign an NDA, like Eli keeps telling me to do these days, then there’s no reason for me not to call her. Fucking this waitress for ten hours straight would be a whole lot better than tossing and turning all night, imagining Malik fucking Laila. And yet, for some reason, I don’t feel enthusiastic about the idea. In fact, the thought only makes me want to drink some more.

The waitress straightens up. “Crap. My manager is mad at me. I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll get those drinks for you, gentlemen.”

“Tequila shots, too!” Kendrick shouts.

“Got it!”

As the waitress strides away, I return my attention to Laila, eager to flash her a smug smile, but to my extreme disappointment, Laila isn’t watching me any longer. She’s standing and engaged in conversation with Reed.

“Thanks so much, Laila,” Reed is saying. “I really appreciate this.”

“I’m happy to do it,” Laila replies. “Alessandra is adorable, and you know I adore Fish.”

Reed says something I don’t catch, due to some laughter at the far end of our table, and they wrap up their conversation.

Laila sits back down and immediately fields some seriously angry energy from Malik. I can’t hear what he says to her, but, clearly, he’s not happy with her.

“Seriously?” Laila replies sharply to Malik. She whisper-shouts, “I couldn’t say no. Reed’s the head of my label! And Alessandra is a brand-new artist who’s really sweet. And her boyfriend, Fish, is a good friend of mine. You think, despite all that, I should have said no, so we could ‘hang out’ tomorrow?”

Malik snaps, “Don’t get all pissy with me. You should be happy I wanted you to spend your free day with me.”

“Keep your voice down,” Laila says, before leaning in and whisper-shouting something I can’t make out. Whatever it is, Malik doesn’t like it.

“Thank you, Baby Jesus, there’s finally trouble in paradise,” Kendrick whispers to me.

“Sure looks like it,” I say. “What did Reed ask Laila to do tomorrow? I couldn’t hear.”

“You know Fish’s girlfriend, Alessandra?”

He motions to the end of the table, but I nod without looking. Everyone here knows Fish’s girlfriend, Alessandra, at this point. Not only is she the same girl who looked so smitten with Fish at Reed’s party two months ago, not only is she sitting next to Fish at the table now, Fish gave that girl a whopper of a kiss in the middle of the greenroom earlier, in front of everyone, and then proceeded to sing to her onstage during the concert. So, yeah, to put it mildly, I know Fish’s girlfriend, Alessandra. In fact, so does everyone in the world by now.

Kendrick continues, “Alessandra has a one-song deal with River Records and her music video is shooting tomorrow in Brooklyn. From what I’ve gathered, it sounds like Reed and the director down there . . . That woman there.” He points to a cute brunette who’s sitting next to Reed. “Reed and the director came up with some complicated new storyline for the music video, just now, and Reed asked Laila to play a big part in it. Which means she’ll be busy shooting all day tomorrow.” Kendrick smiles wickedly. “Rather than hanging out with Malik.”

I snicker. “What a cry baby.”

Kendrick nods. “Hopefully, he’ll keep crying until she’s pissed enough to dump his ass tonight.” He smiles.