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Tristan sits on the floor, changing the strings on his bass. “It wasn’t him. Girls don’t sacrifice anything for Jace.”
“Tristan!” Jelly hisses, indignant.
Sprawled out on a thick rug next to Tristan, hands under his head, Link chuckles. “He’s not wrong.”
I would get mad or sad that they’re right, but I don’t care at all. I don’t need Laurel to sacrifice anything for me. Last week she said she loved me. I couldn’t have dreamed of a better ending to my summer. I couldn’t have dreamed of it at all. But if it is a dream, I don’t want to wake up. Ever.
“Yes, we are dating.”
Jelly hides the lower half of her face behind her palms, and I know she’s containing a happy squeal.
“Lucky jerk,” Tristan grumbles. “You finally snagged a girl who gets you. She’s as crazy as you are with that guitar.”
I shrug. “She’s good.” That’s not the only reason I can’t stop thinking about her.
“Wow, Jace.” Link rolls his eyes. “You think that Vincent Halifax’s daughter doesn’t play as well as you do?”
“She trumps me in other ways. I’m a baby compared to her songwriting skills.”
Jelly drops on the floor next to Link and smiles wider, if that’s even possible. “Oh my gosh. The thing you played at Briar’s party—”
“I’m sorry about that, by the way.” We haven’t had a chance to talk about my stunt at the party. They all joked it off that night, but I did step on Link’s toes in a way. “I didn’t mean to solo like that.”
“Are you kidding?” Link sits up to glare at me. “That was awesome! Are you releasing it with the Little Fox?”
“No, we’re not.” Well, we haven’t talked about releasing it. Laurel wanted to see it finished, so I let her play around with it. The only reason I made her perform it with me was because I was in the mood to fight.
“Can we steal it?” Link asks. “It’ll take us straight out of our current swamp. Imagine the headlines. The Internet will blow up over it—”
“No.” I pick up my guitar. “Stop talking and let’s practice.”
“Why not?” Link drags his mic over by the cord, then sings, “Our wishes, they curse us. They lead us to never. Our wishes, they brand us. They crush us together.Jace, dude. I can see it. The girls crying in the mosh pit. Our bank accounts growing fatter. Yeah?”
Jelly sits behind her drum kit and steals a careful look at me, as though she already knows what I’ll say.
“We don’t need Laurel to beat the competition or revive our sound.”
Tristan finishes trimming the loose ends of the new strings and plugs in a tuner. “I don’t know. Recycle your pride already. I really liked what you did together. If she won’t be performing it with you, we should get the rights for it.”
“No.” I add a whole lot more iron to my voice.
“Can we have one practice session a year where we don’t squabble about something?” Jelly mutters. The next part she speaks louder, “Jace, come on. Just ask her. We need a hit right now. That one’s ready.”
“No. We don’t need help.”
My bandmates groan in unison.
“Are we going to practice or moan about having to work?” I mock them.
Link flips me off but gets onto his feet. “Two months ago Rotten Attitude asked if I’d want to take Rashid’s place once he returns to Canada to his original project. Maybe I will. They suck, but at least they’re not too stupid to pass up a golden opportunity.”
“Go ahead. Do us all a favor,” I snap.
Jelly slams her sticks against the floor tom. “Enough, both of you, and let’s get started.” Her eyes slice at Link for fueling the fire, then she nails me with a heavy, worried glare. Everyone believes she’s the lightheaded, carefree member of ACD, but I know this band means more to her than to the rest of us combined. For all I know, she wants us to succeed more than I do. The problem is we can’t agree on the route we take to that success.
When I arrive at the Halifax mansion that evening, Laurel runs out onto the front porch to greet me, throwing her arms around my neck like we haven’t seen each other for years.
