Page 22 of Collide

His lips twist while he ponders my question. “I’ve missed the music for a long time. So much drama in the way of everything else. That’s another thing you’ll want to watch. Drama.” He tips his head toward Petty, and I turn to see him getting a face full of fruity drink, umbrella included. It hits his chin and falls to the floor. With a hearty chuckle, he wipes down his face and leans forward toward the girl. She smiles coyly and then tips up to kiss his chin. I shake my head.

“I guess I don’t need you as a manager after all. I mean, if you’re giving me free advice, why would I pay you?”

Tommy chuckles. “First lesson already learned.”

Even though I laugh with him, I know there will be so many more lessons, and I’d still like him as the teacher.

11

IVY

The boys decide on a swim with the sea turtles excursion, and Gage asked to me go with them. I was actually excited about the trip until we did what we did and I saw him the next day, all grumpy and moody. Something is up with him, and I definitely think it’s all my fault.

“I’m not feeling so good,” I say by way of excuse as the boys gather their things. How can men travel so minimally while I have two bags filled with just my towel, lotion, and a few other necessities? I touch my stomach for emphasis. Gage hasn’t looked at me, but Jared does. His brows pinch, and he tilts his head.

“Are you sure? It’s going to be a trip of a lifetime.”

Being here year after year means I’ve already swum with sea turtles, but it’s been a while, and the thought of doing something I did as a child with my mother sounded like fun. It was a good memory for us, but the strange vibe coming off Gage has me second-guessing my participation

“I think I just need to rest,” I lie. With this, Gage steps up to me. Right in my face close. So close I can smell the sunscreen mixing with his manly scent, and I want to lick him. Coconutty and fresh. He’d taste like a piña colada, and I miss alcohol.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his eyes shifting down to my belly. His hand lifts as though he wants to touch me, but then he pulls back. His head turns, glancing over his shoulder.

“I think it’s just something I ate.”

His eyes narrow. “You haven’t eaten yet. Maybe you need breakfast here before we go instead of waiting until we get to the launch site?”

We decided to eat in town near the boat tour.

“I’ll just—”

“I want you to go,” he says, almost on a pout. His forehead comes forward and lands gently on mine. “Unless you really don’t feel well.” The hesitation in his voice reassures me. Something else must be on his mind, and it’s silly of me to think it’s all about me.

Of course not. You’re pregnant with his deceased best friend’s child. Get real.

“Okay,” I whisper, adding a weak smile to my response. I’m still not confident I should tag along, but he wraps an arm around my neck, kisses my temple, and tugs me forward, making me feel strangely like one of the guys.

+ + +

We board our tour charter along with a dozen other people. We couldn’t get the private tour, so the guys decided the small group would be fine. Within seconds, they each order a drink from the deck service, but I decline, reaching for a water Gage hands me.

“So Ivy,” Petty drags out my name, and I recognize his tone. He’ll be flirting with me in seconds; only we established a long time ago we aren’t each other’s type. “Haven’t seen you for a bit?”

I’m relieved he didn’t say since the funeral as that would be tacky and also bring the group down a little. I want today to be fun for them, and I’m secretly pleased I decided to go.

“Been busy. Some of us go to school. Gotta make an honest living,” I tease. I’m not poking fun at the fact they all dropped out of college to start their band. Surprisingly, for a child of a musician and the niece of someone equally talented, I can’t carry a tune to save my life. It’s one reason I selected music therapy as a major. Music is in me, but once it comes out, no one wants to hear it.

“You don’t think we’re honest?” He winks, suggesting he’s told a lie or two in his lifetime.

My eyes drift to Gage, and I wonder what he’s embellished in his life. He’s lost in his head, sipping his drink but looking off in the distance. Aviators cover his eyes again, and I wish I could read his thoughts.

“All musicians are liars.” I laugh until Gage’s head whips in my direction.

“Why’s that?” Gage asks.

“You sing pretty songs, and we mortals fall for all the romance in them.” I’m teasing him, but his jaw clenches.

“You don’t think we mean what we say about love or violence or heartbreak or survival?” He’s just narrowed down most of their first album, and I’m curious what the second one will bring. He’s also snarky in his question.