AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Jace sighs, so despondent. “Fine. I won’t get you in trouble.”
“You will. Just not tonight.”
He circles me and, standing behind me, murmurs in my ear, “That’s true, and correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re looking forward to it.”
I give him a doubtfulHmmmin response and drop back into my chair. I act composed and unaffected, but my thoughts are full of suggestions and ideas. Trouble with Jace. I see us spending many evenings together, filling every second with banter and playful jabbing, and finding peace afterward in food and music, and…other things.
I glance at him. The headphones are back on his head, one ear uncovered. He studies the screen again, clicking around and listening. He lifts his face to scratch his neck. It’s such an natural, ordinary move, but it locks my eyes on the scar on his chin. A deep, almost unbearable desire to touch that scar invades my thoughts. I imagine myself reaching for him, pressing my fingers against his face, stepping closer. He’d grin, of course—
Jace catches me watching. My neck and cheeks grow warm, and I blink my smoldering fantasies away. As predicted, he flashes me the grin I was just thinking about, and his overabundant confidence helps me get my thoughts back on track.
We carry on with the demos, searching for combinations we both like. Jace jokes about everything, and I… I poke him in the side once or twice throughout his visit, to make sure he’s real.
Track 16
Misguided Ambitions
Jace
The Halifax family takes over my life. In a good way. I’m there every night. Rebecca always feeds me until I can no longer breathe. She already knows I’m not a starving artist, but my twiggy physique must be putting her in a nourishing mood. Not that I’m complaining. I feast on the most exquisite meals every night. The Halifaxes don’t think they’re anything special. Compared to them, I suppose, I am a starving artist. I stole a bowl of pudding from Gabe’s house.
Laurel and I play guitar together a lot. She keeps trying to get me to commit to an arrangement of the song she wrote. Let’s face it. It’s her song now. She fixed the melody and strung together my jumbled words in ways I could never even imagine. As for why I can’t commit to any single style? I have reasons. Yes, multiple.
One. I don’t know what to pick. Laurel’s ideas are all good. I’m a little afraid to settle down on the wrong combo. I need more time to listen and ponder.
Two. My indecisiveness keeps her experimenting. She texts me her brainstorming snippets every morning, which gives me an excuse to call her. Laurel grumbles every time that I could just text back, but I enjoy her morning voice—sleepy and gravelly, so no texts.
And three. Not only do I get to see Laurel every day, but I get to escape. In the Halifax mansion the world seems to have no reach. The place seems to absorb sounds and worries in equal measures. There I can play guitar and not suffocate under the stress of whether my next song will be a hit.
Four—
“Get your head out of the clouds!” Jelly’s drumstick lands in my chest—she has chucked it all the way from her drum kit.
I’ve zonked out in the middle of band practice. “Sorry. Let’s try it again.”
“It’s okay.” Link sticks the mic into its stand and falls into an armchair. “I can’t focus either. Does Brendt have to send us the stats every week?”
“Of course he does,” Jelly responds, although she doesn’t seem to be bothered as much as Link and I are about this week’s reports on the band’s performance. “That’s his job.”
I nod. “It’s just numbers.” Numbers that have the power to destroy. Our latest single has fallen out of every chart, barely having scraped the bottom to begin with, and Brendt has made sure we remember it.
Jelly gasps with her usual theatrical flair, hand on her chest and all. “Just numbers? I say that new girl of yours is getting to you something awful. You usually grind your teeth for days if our numbers are as bad as they have been this summer.”
Tristan bobs his head in agreement. “You still won’t say who she is?”
“You don’t need to know.”
“That kind of hurts,” Jelly mutters as I return her drumstick.
“Leave my love life alone. Anyone have anything new that’s worth listening to?” I ask them, attempting to redirect the conversation. “The album won’t record itself, and the Vipers won’t fall off their pedestal on their own.”
Link throws one leg over the armrest and drops his head back. “I’ve had a few ideas.” He rubs his eyes and yawns so deeply that my brain keys in an urge to yawn as well. “But…” Link’s eyes close and he falls asleep. In two seconds flat.
I come closer and kick him in the foot.
“Don’t!” Jelly whisper-shouts, but Link’s eyes are already open.
“Never mind.” She sags on her throne.
