any of them.
As far as girls at school, I’d never been interested. Jenna had called me shy, and she wasn’t wrong. I hung out with Jarom and Bash, Asher, too once he moved to town, but other than that? I liked to keep to myself. It was always a bit of a shock when anyone talked to me, even my teachers. Jarom said I put off a vibe that intimidated people. We’d both laughed, but he’d insisted it was true. Based on the amount of social contact I had with anyone outside the band, I thought he might be right.
I didn’t set out to come across intimidating. I only wanted to be left alone. For years, school had been an escape from my overwhelming sisters. It was impossible to get away from them at home, especially when I was younger. When the other kids in my classes had complained about silent reading time or got in trouble for talking during class, I’d been on the teacher’s side wishing the whole day could be quiet time.
Maybe that was why I’d begun playing guitar. I wasn’t much of a reader, and I’d outgrown watching television. Video games were okay, but I wasn’t one to play for hours and hours like some guys. But I’d always loved music. Jimi Hendrix. Eddie Van Halen. Brian May. I’d grown up listening to that stuff with my dad in the garage. One day, I told him I wished I could play like those legends, and the next Christmas, a shiny new guitar waited for me under the tree. I began spending hours in my room, teaching myself to play. I took lessons, too. But I had a natural ear for music and soon outgrew what he could teach me. I’d kept up by listening and trying to emulate the greats. When Jarom and I became friends and started messing around singing covers, I knew I never wanted to do anything else.
I’d been content with my music for so long, it irritated me that Jenna could pull my focus away from what I loved. But she had—big time. I’d never been ruled by my hormones before, and it made me angry to have it happen now when I needed to be focused. This thing with Carly Ryan was no joke.
I shoved my hand through my hair. What was I thinking? Getting involved in Jenna’s issues? I should have kept my head down and let her fix her own problems. I had enough on my plate.
But I hadn’t. And now I was stuck. I wouldn’t abandon her now.
None of that helped my attitude, however, and by the time we’d sung our song five or six times, I was over it. But Jenna still wanted to go over the dialogue and show me the choreography she’d done with Josh.
A few minutes later, I set my hands on my hips. “This is stupid.”
Jenna propped both hands on her hips and glared at me, clearly insulted. “What is stupid? I choreographed the dance myself.”
Eyes on the floor, I ran a finger down the side of my nose. What was I supposed to say to that? It came as no surprise that Jenna had planned every move, glance, and expression for the scene, but it just wasn’t me. That was the problem. I looked up. “I’m sure all of this worked for you and Josh, but I’m not Josh. It doesn’t work for me.”
Jenna’s jaw clenched. She closed her eyes and sighed, her expression reminding me what Jarom had said when I told him what I was doing after school—Dude, you are so screwed. I snorted to myself, thinking of the moment Jenna had walked into the choir room after school. She’d changed from the skirt and top she’d been wearing into a pair of leggings and a long oversized sweater that hung off one shoulder. She’d wrangled her hair into a messy bun on the top of her head, a number two pencil sticking out of it at an odd angle. As soon as I’d seen her, I knew Jarom was right.
I was screwed.
But I also wasn’t going to do all the stupid dance moves Jenna had just shown me. I couldn’t pull it off and would make both of us look bad if I tried.
Finally, Jenna looked up. She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “You’re right.”
I jerked my chin back in surprise. “I am?” I never expected her to agree with me. I’d been gearing myself