Page 72 of Paint Our Song

“But, yeah.” Miles scratches the back of his neck. “We haven’t really talked since then, so… don’t say anything to anyone?”

“Duh!”

And before he can say anything else, Gabby leans down and hugs him tightly. The oxygen leaves his lungs, and he pats her arm.

“Here’s the band.” She stands up straight and waves toward the door. When Miles turns his head, he sees that Calvin’s arrived with Gil and Chase. The dining room’s not crowded—only half the tables are occupied—but a few people still turn their heads as soon asthe band enters.

“Good morning, Gabby,” Chase says, beaming.

“Hello. Take a seat!”

“Don’t you want to join us?”

“Sorry, I’m supposed to be working. Miles is here, though.”

“Miles isn’t exactly my type.”

“Stop bothering her,” Gil mutters, pushing Chase along. Gabby laughs and nods at them, and strides off toward the door. With a sigh, Chase listens and lets himself be led toward the opposite side of where Miles is sitting. The two of them take a seat and grab a menu.

Miles has barely eaten his waffles. He can use that as an excuse to stay.

“Good morning,” Calvin says, voice soft, as he takes the seat beside Miles.

He grins wide. “Hi.”

He hadn’t seen him since the previous afternoon. Miles had left before the dinner service, and Calvin had still been napping, naked and entangled in his sheets.

Okay, he really shouldn’t be thinking of Calvin’s bare chest right now.

“Sorry about him.” Gil points a thumb at Chase, who glares at him. “He’s only messing around and does this every time there’s someone cute. If it bugs you that he’s flirting with your friend, you just need to tell him. He’ll stop.”

“It doesn’t bug me, though I don’t think she’s into it. No offense.”

“Damn.” Chase turns to Calvin. “How’s Cassidy, then?”

Rolling his eyes, Calvin takes the menu from Gil. “Getting married next year.”

“What? What the hell?”

“She told me yesterday.”

Oh, she must have called him once Miles had left, because this is news to him as well. Miles pokes around his waffle. He saw from the kitchen that Calvin had ordered room service last night, and he wondered if he was avoiding him. It’s kind of odd being next to Calvin like this, as if nothing’s happened between them.

As usual,Calvin’s hard to read.

“Speaking of which, where the hell were you two yesterday?” Chase raises his eyebrows. “Gil and I went downtown without you two. Like we said we would. Remember that? When we talked about going downtown?”

Calvin says, curtly, “Sleeping.”

“Youbothfell asleep? And couldn’t hear us knocking?”

“Yes.” Ears going pink, Calvin hides behind the menu.

“That’s it? A one-word explanation for ditching us?” Chase raises his hands in the air. “How eloquent. Calvin Lowe, Cloverlily’s lyricist, ladies and gents. Writer of dozens of hit songs, despite his lack of vocabulary.”

“Drop it,” Gil says with a laugh, trying to get the attention of a waiter.

Frowning, Miles notices that the only waiter around, a part-time student, is absently scrolling through his phone. They’re really going to have to get actual staff soon—trained, driven staff.