Launi

Another viral clip. I wish I could claim an artistic vision of mine for the reason I've been successful so far, but the honest ruth is if Rye wasn't so good looking, these videos would be falling flat. Instead, posting Rye in his bunk, hands behind his head and then turning towards the camera and propping himself up with an elbow was a thirst trap the girlies have been waiting for. Of course, I muted the volume so no one could hear what we were saying and instead added some trending song and a few zooming or flashing visual effects and once again in only two hours it had over a million views.

The waitress lingers around our table as the band finishes up their appetizers. I have some great footage of them playing Never Have I Ever while drinking and waiting for their dinners to arrive. At first, they weren't excited about the little game, but they trusted me, and I know it will pay off.

"Ok Rye, your turn," my dad prompts. A few of the other members let out some whistles in anticipation. In our version of the game, the speaker states something adventurous or scandalous and the other members of the group must drink if they've done the thing stated.

Rye glances to me first, his eyes focused on the camera in my hand. I can feel his hesitation. He knows I need content, and he knows his role in this band, but I can see something behind his eyes. It's as if he is weighing who will really see this. His eyes meet mine for a minute and I know he's made a decision.

Just because they say it, doesn't mean they've done it. After a few rounds, it's clear that these guys know each other well and sometimes they choose a statement knowing exactly who will have to take a drink. I have yet to have to sip anything. Rye spins his whisky neat in his hand. His strong fingers, tipping the glass slightly, watching the amber liquid rise against the side. I could make an entire social media account dedicated to his hands alone. He's wearing a short-sleeved, solid black t-shirt so when he leans forward and places his elbows on the table his arms flex in a way that is very inviting to the female gaze. As a matter of fact, it's inviting to anyone's gaze. The viral video wasn't just viral because of the girls.

"Never have I ever," Rye begins and the table quiets down, "made out with my teacher," he says.

I'm going to kill him.

I told him that in confidence the night he told me about losing his virginity. Seems both of us have hung on to some damning facts revealed that last night. Rye holds his glass up in my direction with an evil smirk. The table goes silent. All eyes turn to me, including my father's. For a split second I consider lying, pretending it's not about me, but I decide not to back down.

Holding the camera still and raising my glass in his direction, I keep my eyes locked on his until the moment the cold rim touches my lips. I tip my head back and close my eyes, letting my whiskey rush down my throat. When I open them again and set the empty glass on the table, you can cut the tension in our circle with a knife. Rye does something unexpected and swallows down his drink as well.

"What the fuck Launi?" my dad says as he leans back from the group.

"Relax," I tell him. "He was barely eighteen and more my coach than a teacher."

In an effort to change the focus from me to anything else, Jack clears his throat and then asks, "What about you Rye? What's your story?"

My dad finishes off his drink and motions for another round for the entire table. He could try to say more, but we both know his short fallings as a dad are partially to blame for any of my teenage behavior, so he won't.

"Ms. Norris, senior year history. In her defense, I was eighteen already and she ran into me at a local punk show." He smiles and leans into the camera I still have positioned at his face. "If you're still single Ms. Norris, hit me up and I'll get you into a show," he says with a sexy smirk. Then he adds, "Fuck it, what do I care? Hit me up even if you aren't." He laughs in a low sexy timbre, "Your relationship status is really none of my business." Rye winks this time, and I want to throw the camera at his smug face. I can't of course, he just delivered me gold in terms of clicks, and any attention in my direction is gone.

I eat my dinner and listen to the guys talk. It's amazing after all these years they still have anything new to discuss. I pull my phone out and check for messages from Parker.

Parker: Is he still hot?

She's referring to my texts last night about Sean.

Me: He is

Parker: You're so lucky

Parker: Not fair you have two hot guys on your trip.

Me: What about the groomsmen?

Me: Any of them hot?

Parker: No. Not even one. Fingers crossed for wedding guests.

I glance up to see Rye watching me. I like that he doesn't know anything about my life now. For all he knows I could be texting a boyfriend.

The waitress finally leans in close to Rye and whispers something in his ear. His eyes are still on mine as he listens. With a tight nod, he has agreed to whatever she's asking. The other guys don't even care to ask. This is a regular occurrence to them.

"Excuse me for a minute," I say, pushing back from the table and taking my purse so I can freshen up in the bathroom. I need a minute to focus and get my head back in the game. I move towards the doors at the front of the restaurant near the entrance. Once inside, I use the toilet and then wash my hands at the sink. I didn't bring a brush, so instead I just run my fingers through my hair to give it a little more volume and then reapply my lip gloss. I don't want to go back to the table. This is going to be a long summer.

I make it a few steps out into the lobby and catch a glimpse of Sean outside. He's posted at the curb, his back against the black SUV that brought us here. His shift must have just started. He looks fresh, his face cleanly shaven and his suit crisp. I decide I could use a few more minutes without Rye.

Sean seems surprised to see me heading towards the glass door and pushes off the car to open it for me. He is speaking even though no one else is around. No doubt my location being told to whoever is on the other end of that radio. It's going to be so nice to go back to school and not have my every move relayed to anyone.

"Good evening, Launi," he says. "How was dinner?"

"It was fine. I really want to get back to the bus and edit some of this before the show. Do you think I can head back?" Maybe he can put me in an Uber and let the other members of security know to be expecting me.

"Sure," he says. "Give me a minute." He opens the back door of the SUV and motions for me to go inside.

"Oh, the others aren't finished," I tell him.

Sean smiles at me and says, "There's another car around the corner and one up the street." He moves his line of vision and I follow, catching a glimpse of another black SUV parked within sight.

"If you're sure," I say, tucking myself inside.

"Bringing Launi back to the arena," he says, his finger on some button near his waistline. As soon as he disconnects, I see the dark car ahead of us pull away from the curb and turn at the corner, clearly coming around to take this position. How much is all of this costing the band? Crazy to think Free Pony started in a garage and has reached this level of success.

Sean closes my door and climbs into the front seat.

Me: And he smells good. Did I mention that?

Parker: Of course he does! Ugh.

I discreetly snap a picture of Sean watching for a break in traffic so he can pull out to send to her.

Parker: OMG. So hot!

She sends me a picture of herself, cozy in bed after a nap. Her hair is a mess, and her face is free of make-up. I'm sure I've told her before that she looks adorable in her glasses, but she doesn't think so. They are old and chunky and make her look young, but she wears them when she's at home.

Parker: Do you think any man will love me if I look like this when I first wake up?

Me: I'll ask Sean

Parker: DON'T YOU DARE

The next picture she sends has her middle finger displayed as she glares angrily into the camera. I chuckle and tuck the phone back in my purse. I watch out my window the locals walking along the street in front of the restaurant. As we begin to pull away from the curb, the front door swings open and Rye emerges. I don't think he can see me through the dark tint on the window, but it doesn't stop him from trying. He shoves his hands in his pockets, letting the door close behind him and stands large and unmoving as he watches us merge into traffic. 

**What do you think so far? I'd love to hear your thoughts and feedback. I'll be responding to the comments!*****