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He offers me his hand, and I return the handshake.
“It seems to be a thing around here—to call each other by your last names, isn’t it?” Laurel asks.
Bjornson shrugs. “Maybe. Let’s close up and get out of here. Did you get dinner?”
“No, I’m starving. I was worried.”
He wraps her in a tight hug. “Sorry. Want to come to dinner with us?” Bjornson asks me.
Are you kidding? Of course I do. A dinner with Laurel Halifax. No way I’ll pass that up. But…
“This late at night?” Gotta play it cool still. I take off my baseball cap and comb my hair with my fingers. “Sure.”
Laurel utters a most disappointed, “Oh no,” and, threading her fingers through my hair, examines a handful of it.
Daring. And somewhat unexpected from a girl who doesn’t venture outside pretty much ever. I hold still.
“Orange and black,” she describes my hair—originally black with added acidic orange highlights. It’s a thing my bandmates and I do, the crazy colors. “And your name is Blackmore. You’re Acid Churro Dreams’ Jace Blackmore?”
The cap was the only thing that prevented her from connecting my face to my name? I’m not sure what to think of that.
I deliver a small bow. “At your service.”
“I’m going home.” She shoves the Gibson into Bjornson’s hands and gets up.
That’s a drastic reaction. I know I was dancing on the line of annoying her to death this whole time, but I didn’t realize she’d want to bail altogether once she knew my name.
Bjornson passes the Gibson to me and hooks his arm through Laurel’s. “Come with us. It’ll be good. Jace is cool.” Then he leans in to whisper, “He won’t care about anything you did or didn’t do. Or anyone you’re related to. He’s got his own ghosts and issues.”
True. Although I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. Bjornson is a loud whisperer.
I hang up the guitar, then say to Laurel, “I won’t intrude if it bothers you.”
“You wish you could bother me,” she grumbles.
I could get offended, but something’s telling me her hostility has a good reason. I chuckle instead. “Dang, Bjornson.”
He smiles at me. “She’s awesome, right? Laurel is my cousin, by the way, so keep that in mind. You hurt her, and I’ll beat you up.”
Yes! Identity confirmed for good. Bjornson is Vincent Halifax’s nephew, and if this Laurel is his cousin, I was definitely right to think she is who she is. Also, “You could never beat me up,” I remind the shop owner who’s returned way too late.
“Okay, enough chatting,” Laurel snaps. “Are we going to eat or what?”
Laurel
Ugh. I agreed to go out to dinner with them by accident, out of pure exasperation with their easy banter and my bitter disappointment. Jace Blackmore. He felt so…ordinary, saying the most ridiculous things and acting like I was the most ordinary girl, but he’s not. He’s not ordinary at all. Rumor has it he’s so good on the guitar that one day he will be what my dad is right now. My life must stay either in utter, miserable shadows or in the loudest, still miserable spotlights if it continues like this. It seems I’m not supposed to meet anyone who’s not a career musician.
I wait by Hal’s car, sorely tempted to get into my own and drive away. Hal is up to something, but if I retreat, they win. I should’ve recognized Blackmore right away, but I’m too busy ignoring and avoiding everyone, which is why I don’t keep up with the faces. For once, it comes back to bite me.
I won’t intrude if it bothers you.
Ha.
He doesn’t— I wrap my whole fist in my hair instead of twirling a lock like I normally do. Okay, fine. He bothers me a lot. His confident grins threaten my whole existence. The very air feels different somehow, as if I’m standing on the edge of a bottomless chasm. One wrong step and destruction is imminent. Nobody should be able to make me feel this way after only a few minutes of conversation.
“You didn’t go home,” Hal says when he and Blackmore join me. “Good.” He opens the back door for me—I always ride in the back seat. “Now let’s go and have fun.”
I don’t answer him. Fun. Do I still know how to do that?
