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“Hey, Matt!” Someone calls from behind us, saving me from certain ridicule. We all stop and turn to find a guy with neat, blond hair jogging toward us.
Matt gives him an easy smile. “Hey, man. We’re about to leave.”
Blond guy nods. “I was hoping for that. Think I can get a ride back to campus?” His eyes jump to the rest of us, and adds, “Hey, I’m Braden.”
Matt nods. “Sure. We’ve got room for one more.”
He’s right, but it’s a tight fit in the back of Matt’s Ford Focus. I end up sandwiched between Jackson and Braden in the middle seat, and I’d give anything to make this drive go by faster.
Because Jackson and I are touching.
My foot rests against the side of his shoe, my knee pressed against the outside of his, my shoulder paired with the same muscular arm my fingers grazed earlier.
It’s too much.
I keep trying to shift away from him, but it’s like there’s a magnetic pull drawing my body back to his with every turn. Jackson and I are not magnetic. The only way we’d be similar to magnets is if we were two like poles, repelling the other with everything we’ve got.
I shift in my seat again, my arm and knee grazing Braden instead.
I feel nothing.
The realization makes me look at him. He briefly meets my stare and gives me a smile.
He’s handsome.
Short hair, blue eyes, well dressed.
Braden looks back out the window, but I can’t tear my eyes away. From here, I can’t see a single flaw. He looks like he might be everything Jackson isn’t—in a good way.
So, why don’t I feel anything?
Jackson leans toward me, closing the space I’ve tried so desperately to keep. My breath catches in my throat, and when he whispers in my ear his words run down my spine. “Careful, Red. Stare at him any longer and you might hurt Keith’s feelings.”
I glare at him, but it only seems to please him. He looks out the window, dismissing me, but his knee presses into mine a little more, taking up any space I had to get away from him. I can’t stop staring at where our legs are touching. The slightest movement from him sends a wave of nerves and warmth through me, and there suddenly isn’t enough air in the car.
It has to be the whiskey.
18
jackson
Matt and I have been in the dorm all day, recovering from the party. I was only hungover for a couple of hours this morning, and considering Matt didn’t drink, he’s been fine all day. Sundays are usually quiet around the dorm, but everyone must be exhausted after the night we had. It might be because our room is at a dead end, but I haven’t seen a single soul other than the guy on the bed across from me.
Our door has been open for most of the day, but Margot and Rae’s is shut.
I wonder if Margot woke up hungover.
Probably. She may not have been as sloppy as some of the other people last night, but she was still drunk—drunk and staring at that guy, Braden, the whole drive home. She knew the guy for all of two seconds, and I swear she looked like she was ready to crawl into his lap. I might think her not telling Keith how she feels is annoying, but I’ll take that over watching her drool over some guy she’s never even talked to. My hand shakes, making it impossible to restring my guitar.
I brush off the feeling and shake out my hand. With the band’s first gig coming up this Friday, I need to sound as good as possible. It’s a cheap instrument. My mom gave it to me when I was in high school, and I’m not sure if she bought it from a music store or just picked it up at Walmart. I’ve loved this guitar more than anything, but the idea of playing it on stage as a professional musician ties my stomach into a knot.
Buying a new guitar—especially one that would make a difference—is out of the question with how tight my budget is right now, but I was able to get better-quality strings from a small music shop near campus. I doubt it will help as much as I need it to, but it’s the best I can do for now.
Hopefully, the guys won’t mind me playing this one until we bring in a little cash flow—if that even happens. I guess this is what it’s like when you join an up-and-coming band. A lot of ifs. Who knows what will happen? All I know is I need to put away as much money as I can to prepare for whatever repercussions my dad throws my way if I drop out. I may not want to be here, but at least he’s footing the bill for whatever I need.
If.
My thoughts are starting to make my head spin, so I look at Matt as I pick at the new strings. “Hey, want to get something to eat?”
