Black Lilith: Book One (Black Lilith #1) by Hazel Jacobs Page B

that career path. It has been her goal since she started college. Her father had counseled her to choose a major early so that she wouldn’t waste time on the things that wouldn’t help her achieve her goals. So she decided on event management, playing to her strengths of organizing and networking. That was the goal she’d worked toward in school. Does that make it her dream?
    “I-I guess,” she stutters hesitantly, knowing that he could probably tell that she’s only telling part of the truth.
    His eyes flicker over her, taking everything in. She wonders for a moment if he’s one of those artistic types who can tell everything about a person just by looking at them. That would be dangerous. There are some things she really doesn’t want the band to know—her feelings for Logan, not least of all.
    Then Tommy nods like he’s decided something. “Well, I’m glad you’re here now , at least. Wherever the future takes you.”
    She glances down at her phone screen again and sees that half an hour has passed since she sat down. Some more guests are starting to trickle in, all yawning and rubbing their puffy eyes, dragging their feet and groping for the coffee. They have the bright sunburns and souvenir T-shirts of tourists heading home in a few hours.
    “So Logan didn’t take any girls to his room?” asks Tommy suddenly, frowning as though he’s puzzling something out.
    Mikayla takes a bite of bacon and eggs before answering, “Yeah. Sent her home before we went upstairs. Why?”
    Tommy ponders for a moment, then raises his eyebrows in a slightly impressed look. “Just surprising. He doesn’t usually turn the girls down.”
    Mikayla takes another bite and swallows, trying to absorb the pang of jealousy that rises in her chest along with it. So it was unusual for him to turn down groupies?
    “He said he was too tired.”
    Wrinkling his nose, Tommy seems to consider that. “Maybe the Get Hyped set took it out of him. He does a lot of thrashing around for those songs.”
    Mikayla had noticed. She thinks that the sight of him dancing around the stage, thrusting his hips and grinning like a cat that caught the mouse, would keep her awake for many lonely nights.
    “He’d have been better off with her… I wasn’t good company in the end.”
    “Not that kind of company,” Tommy agrees. Then he sends her a dazzlingly sweet smile. “But I’d pick you for every other kind of company.”
    She has a sudden, almost overwhelming urge to hug him. Only the thought that he probably hasn’t showered this morning, and may still have any number of bodily fluids on him from the night’s activities, keeps her in her seat. She nudges him fondly with her shoulder, and he returns the friendly bump with one of his own.
    “Did you really kick your new friend out this early?” she asks. Surely the groupie wouldn’t have been pleased about Tommy sending her away before breakfast?
    But he shakes his head. “Oh, no… she’s still upstairs. She was sleeping when I left.”
    “You left her in your room?”
    “Yeah!” He looks confused at her expression.
    “Your room with your passport, wallet, phone and bass guitar?”
    “She was sleeping,” he says, shrugging. “I got hungry.”
    Mikayla shakes her head at him, but she can’t help but smile at his naiveté. Or maybe it is goodness. She doesn’t know what word to put to it, but she knows that no one else would wear it quite as well as he does.
    Suddenly, Slate appears out of nowhere wearing an inside-out shirt and a shit-eating grin.
    “Guess who’s got two thumbs and rope burn on his ankles?” he asks cheerfully as he takes a seat across from Tommy. He makes two thumbs-up and points them at himself.
    “You owe me twenty bucks,” Tommy mutters to Mikayla, taking another bite of eggs.
    Mikayla’s phone buzzes again. She picks it up, but she doesn’t recognize the number.
    “I’ll pay you after breakfast,” she tells Tommy. She slides her half-full plate over to