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“Does he know that?”
“Yes.” I think.
I dig through my suitcase in search of a clean shirt, flinging clothes behind me. Most of my stuff is still in my grandparents’ garage, and I make a mental note to do some laundry soon. I pull out a white NOFX tee and bring it to my nose, making sure it passes the sniff test. Bingo. I shrug it on over my head, then check myself out in the bathroom mirror. My shirt falls below the hem of my black shorts. Black tights. Burgundy Docs. Good enough. This isn’t a date, after all. It’s a show with a friend at what is most likely going to be a crammed, dirty, smelly venue.
I toss my wavy hair up into a high ponytail, swipe a few strokes of mascara onto my lashes, and I’m done. I hear the front door slam downstairs and I pause, listening. Both Dare and Lo are at work, and it being Friday night, I don’t expect either one of them to be home this early. I pocket my phone and grab my small black purse, fixing the strap across my chest. I scoop my dad’s jacket off the bed and tie it around my waist before heading down the stairs. Once I’m near the bottom, I peek around the corner, attempting to see who’s here.
Movement by the fridge catches my eye, and then it slams shut, revealing Jesse. Why does he have to be so obnoxiously attractive? Backwards hat. White tee. Gray sweats. Don’t look at his crotch. Do not look at his crotch.
“Are you looking at my dick?”
I jerk my eyes away at the sound of his voice. “What? No.”
Jesse smirks, rounding the counter and heading for the couch. “Wild Friday night?” I ask, eyeing his setup. There are bags of chips, sodas, beers, and… Are those Dum-Dums laid out across the coffee table? Netflix is pulled up on the flat screen.
“Didn’t feel like going out.” He shrugs, plopping down onto the couch, legs spread wide. I sit on the arm of the couch, reaching forward to steal a sucker. I don’t waste any time unwrapping it and taking a lick. Jesse watches my mouth intently and I try not to squirm under his attention.
“What are you watching?” I ask, if only to break the silence. Jesse clears his throat and adjusts his sweatpants, making no attempt to hide the bulge there. Why do my eyes keep wandering toward his crotch? I don’t particularly like dicks. I haven’t even seen very many of them in person. It’s not like I’m a connoisseur.
“Not sure yet. You pick.”
Me? Does he want me to watch a movie with him?
The doorbell rings, not giving me a chance to answer. I set my sucker on the wrapper on top of the table while Jesse stands, beer in hand, and makes his way for the door. Garrett. I sent him Lo’s address after I got home, letting him know I’d need a ride after all.
Jesse swings the door open, revealing a slightly confused-looking Garrett. “I’m here to pick up Allison,” Garrett says, leaning back to check the number on the house, like maybe he got the wrong address.
“Hey,” I say, stepping into view. Once he sees me, his mouth quirks up into that mischievous grin of his as his eyes scan my body. “Nice choice,” he says, pointing toward my shirt.
Before I can respond, Jesse shuts the door in his face. I jump back, shooting him a glare before I open the door again. “I’ll be out in a second,” I explain, holding up my finger. “I’m just going to grab my stuff.”
He nods, luckily not appearing to be too offended, heading for the truck parked in front of the curb.
“What the hell was that?” I ask Jesse.
“He bored me.”
“So you s
lammed the door in his face? Instead of walking away? Since, you know, he’s my guest and all.”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
“Oookay,” I drawl. “I’ll see you later then.”
Jesse doesn’t say anything, so I turn for the door.
“Boyfriend?” Garrett asks when I climb into his truck.
“God no,” I say, laughing. “He does like to make my life hell, though. I hear relationships do that to people.”
Garrett pulls out onto the street and reaches forward to turn the music down. We spend the rest of the way talking about our favorite bands and listening to music. Garrett is easy to be around and could quite possibly be my musical soulmate. We’re a good forty-five minutes away when he swings into a dark parking lot. No lights. No signs.
“Did you bring me here to kill me?” I look over at him with an eyebrow raised.
“Where’s the trust?” He climbs out of his truck, rounding the hood before he’s opening my door and helping me out. “Come on.”
Garrett leads me toward the entrance, and if it wasn’t for the faint sounds of a bass guitar floating from the building and the parking lot full of cars, I might think he was taking me to some rapey abandoned building. Once inside, it looks like a normal venue. Two bars on each side of the floor, stage up front—though no one is up there yet.
