AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It’s not her fault.
She shrugs a skinny shoulder, and the wide neck of her sweatshirt slides down her arm. “Some of the kids at school said you used to be in a band...” She presses her mouth into a straight line like she’s deliberating her next words.
I nod slowly. I know what question comes next before her lips part to say it.
“Why did you let them kick you out? Why did you let what’s-her-face sing your song? Why didn’t you just go solo?”
I wrinkle my nose and puff out something resembling a laugh. It sounds jaded, even to my own ears. “Long, boring story.”
Her forehead creases. “If you mind ... I won’t ... obvs.”
I mind. “Why would I mind?” I hold her gaze despite my barefaced lie. It’s not her fault, and definitely not her problem. “You sing whatever song works for you.”
A relieved grin spreads across her face. “Right. Cools. If you’re sure.” She drops her gaze to where her palm is pressed against the strings. “You know that you would have sang it way better than her, right? That guy’s a jerk.”
Damn it. The girl’s got a way of wiggling in right where I don’t want her. I cough away the uncomfortable lump in my throat and nod.
An almighty crash sounds from inside her apartment. She flinches but covers it quickly with a wry smirk. “I should go. Make sure they’re not killing each other. Same time tomorrow?”
“Same time tomorrow.” I clench my teeth to stop myself from saying anything more. We don’t talk about her home life. I think it’s one of the reasons she’s stuck with me all year. I don’t pry. Even when I really fucking want to. “Stay safe, Nina.”
“Right. Cool. Yes.” Her crossed legs bounce up and down as she leans forward to pick up her cell, her eyes darting to the door. “Thanks, Stan. You’re ... thanks.”
I drag my hand over my mouth. It shouldn’t bother me this much. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen the bands my dad toured with get up to way worse things than any fights her mom and her latest loser boyfriend could ever get into.
The girl’s fine. She’ll be fine.
I power off my iPad, then sit back into the white sofa cushions and absentmindedly pick at the strings, humming the tune my dad used to play to distract me when the guys on the bus got out of line.
I let the music soothe me. Distract me from worrying about Nina. The song’s over too soon. I lean back and strum the last cord just in time to see the man I assume was the one bashing around late last night kick his door shut behind him, his attention one hundred percent on me.
He. Is. Delicious.
Blue-green eyes, black, shaggy hair, cropped short at the sides, but longer on the top and back like some kind of flattened-down Mohawk, and a straight-toothed grin. He’s almost enough to make me forget what I was worried about. Almost, but not quite.
“You’re good.” He stops before he gets to the stairs down to the beach from his side of the porch and leans a hip against the waist-high partition between them, his tattooed fingers wrapped around a steaming travel-mug.
“Thanks.” I smile and lift my guitar from my knees to lean it against the side of the sofa. No point in playing coy. I know I’m good. One of those cool things my dad taught me was to play guitar—and he taught me well.
Raking my fingers through my salt-crunchy hair, I ruffle it and pull it over my shoulder before I chance another look at him.
Coffee and citrus and sandalwood tickles my nose on the tangy ocean breeze. I hold his stare for a second longer than is probably polite then slowly take in the rest of him. Black sleeveless T-shirt. Loose board shorts. And tattoos everywhere. Where’s a girl to look first? The black geometric designs that cover his left arm or the ... my eyes flick to his right arm and the smile falls from my face ... dot-work mandalas.Really familiar dot-work mandalas.
I stand, my hands dropping to my hips. “You’re—”
“I’m?” His gaze slides down my bare legs, oblivious to the glare I’m firing his way.
“—the jerk that stole my cab.”
Those blue-green eyes shoot up to meet mine, and he at least has the good grace to wince. “Ah, shit. That was you?”
“That was me.” I move forward to lean on the other side of the partition, my arms folded over my chest, giving him an unapologetic once over. Everything inside me perks up at the interested tilt to his head and the smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “It’s a shame, really.”
“A shame?” One of his dark eyebrows lift, and I have to bite my lip to keep my glare in place. He really is kinda beautiful.
“Yep. It’s a shame that I had to walk here in hundred-million-degree heat. It’s a shame I got blisters on both my heels and burnt my nose.” I stroke my finger down my thankfully less pink than last night nose. “And most of all it’s a shame because...” I give him another deliberate once over. “...I don’t like boys with bad manners.”
“Is that so?” Gaze fixed on my lips, the side of his mouth quirks and he pulls on his earlobe as if he knows I’m lying through my teeth. As if he knows that boys with bad manners are my favorite type of boys. “For what it’s worth, yesterday was an unusually crazy day for me.” Dimples. He’s got them. And he knows exactly how to use them.
