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Tripleugh!
“I honestly wouldn’t know. Why don’t you ask him yourself?” I slap a hand over my mouth, then I have to feign another cough as everyone stares at me. I’m still just as bad as ever at knowing what to say.Ask him yourself?That’s the last thing I need.
“If he’s busy, I have other options,” Dad says, oblivious to my growing panic that I fail to contain.
“You do. You really do. So many.” I drink more water to set my poker face in stone. If all else fails, he could bring me with him. I could—
I sputter water all over my plate and the nearby tablecloth.
“Are you okay?” Hal rushes over to clap me on the back.
I croak, “Yeah,” before coughing some more. “I’m just”—cough—“going to”—another cough. I leave the table and run upstairs, where I finally recover somewhat. Clinging to the wall, I stand on the top stair and try to piece together what just happened.
I don’t mind the idea of performing with Dad again.IfI went with him, I wouldn’t get away with a flirty spotlight caused by my fling with Jace. I would be back with a guitar in my hands, making a statement and claiming my spot in the industry.
That’s not what I want.
Well…
What if it is what I want?
Track 33
Pride vs. Genius
Jace
The line at the coffee shop drags. Everyone ahead of me orders a million and a half things to go, and no one can ever make up their mind before they arrive at the register. My body swears at me in black magic curses. Three weeks ago I took Shane up on his offer to lift weights with him. I had several reasons for that.
One of them would be to regularly see Juliette even if she still glares death at me.
Another is that it beats going to kung fu without her.
And thirdly, I figured exercising with Shane could help me get used to him being in my life. I hope it’ll give me the shift in the mindset I should’ve started working on a long time ago. This morning, though, I hate his guts more than usual. He is a frigging robot. I often end up sore and battered after kung fu, but lifting metal and running with him every day is a Space Marine bootcamp. I haven’t stopped hurting for a moment since I started.
To make it all the more annoying, he took it upon himself to harass me about my diet. I only have the one—eat. All the food. Ever since I started working out with him, he questions me every day what I eat, how much, and then “educates” me on input/output, good protein, bad fat, carbs, carbs, carbs, and— If I hear another lecture along the lines of no more chips and guac at midnight, I’ll punch him again.
I take a slow breath that I let it out through my nose. I’m doing this for Juliette.
No. I’ve got to stop thinking about this situation in these terms.
I’m doing this for me. I can’t live in vengeance mode forever. No more pretending, avoiding, evading, or shrugging off my feelings, issues, needs, and wants. I want to fix my friendship with Juliette and be the friend she needs again, but first, I’ll find my own footing.
And I’ll have a chocolate muffin, dang it!
When it’s my turn to order at last, I rattle off, “One chocolate muffin, a snickerdoodle cookie, and a ham and cheese croissant. Please.” Try and stop me, Snake Boy. “Actually, make it three snickerdoodle cookies.” I’ll drive back to Juliette’s place just to leave the sweets on Shane’s kitchen counter. The spiteful thought brings a smile to my face and brushes away most of my post-workout chagrin.
The girl working the register smiles. “Any drinks?”
I do a double take. Is she smiling at me? Still in my workout tee and shorts, I reek like a rat and my hair is sticky with sweat, but her gaze flickers down to my torso and back to my face before she looks at the register tablet again, failing to subdue a…dreamy grin?
That’s so bizarre.
“A bottle of Dew,” I remember to respond and hand over my credit card.
“To stay or to go?” She schools her face back into an expression of polite boredom that she had before.
“To go.”
