Kissing the Shy Guy - Stephanie Street Page 0,6

sniffled. “That’s the whole point.”

My arms reacted to the despair in her voice, pulling her tightly into my chest. Unexpectedly, her arms found their way around my waist, and a whole other part of my anatomy reacted. So much for brotherly instincts.

I forcefully pushed my hormones down and focused, in the least horny way possible, on the girl snuggled against my chest. Or I tried to.

“What’s not okay,” I asked, softly brushing her shoulder blades with my thumbs.

Jenna stilled, probably just realizing she’d cuddled up to a complete stranger. Not that we hadn’t known each other since kindergarten, but we weren’t friends. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d spoken. Probably elementary school.

She untangled herself from my arms and took a step back, putting her hands to her head. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she moaned. “How could he do this to me?” Her eyes met mine as though expecting an answer.

Since I had no idea what she was talking about, all I could do was shrug. “I don’t know.”

One side of her mouth curled into an unwilling smile. She stared as though seeing me for the first time.

“What are you doing here?” she asked again.

“I left my guitar in one of the practice rooms. I was on my way to get it when I heard a scream.”

“Right.” Her head bobbed. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I startled you. I wouldn’t have screamed like that if I’d known anyone was around to hear it.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

She snorted again, but it sounded more like a sob. “No. Not really.”

Slowly, deliberately—I didn’t want to scare her—I closed the distance between us and reached for her hands. “Are you sure? I’ve heard I’m a good listener.”

She didn’t respond at first, but held my gaze, searching my eyes.

“Why aren’t you in choir?” she asked, catching me off guard.

I leaned back, coughing a little to clear my throat. “Uh.” I was sure I looked like a deer caught in headlights. Because one of the main reasons I wasn’t in choir was standing right in front of me, her beautiful face streaked with dried tears.

Jenna saw my expression and interpreted it correctly. “Really? Because of me? I’m flattered,” she added with a wry roll of her eyes.

She’d caught me. Instead of feeling embarrassed, I grinned. “Don’t give yourself too much credit. I can sing, but guitar is my passion.” And if I’d taken the time to look twice, I might have ignored all the horror stories Jarom told me about Jenna because there would be no ignoring Jenna after this.

“But wouldn’t it help? With singing? Ms. Jackson is a great voice coach.”

I shook my head. “Maybe. But I’m mostly a backup singer. Especially now, with Asher.”

I felt her inspection, waited for her to ask the question I knew would come. I’d been asked a million times since Asher joined our band.

“Does it bother you? That Asher came along and took the lead spot?” And there it was, folks.

“No. I’m not lead material.”

She thought about that. It wasn’t a news flash. Breakout had begun with me and my best friend, Jarom Jones, messing around in his parent’s basement. Even when it was just the two of us, Jarom was the lead singer, not me. I could sing, and I knew how to harmonize, but my strength was playing the guitar. Besides, I didn’t want or need or even like the spotlight. All I wanted was to play my guitar in a band. I didn’t need attention or status. I just needed to play.

Eventually, we’d added Sebastian ‘Bash’ Sinclair on drums. But Asher hadn’t moved here until the beginning of the school year. Jarom met Asher in choir and talked him into joining our band. Bash and I hadn’t minded. Asher was a killer vocalist and songwriter. We’d more than doubled our setlist with original songs and had more gigs scheduled than ever before.

No. I’d never resented Asher joining our band. I was grateful. With Asher on board, we all might get to live our dream of being full-time musicians.

But that was us. What about Jenna? Could I persuade her to confide in me? It surprised me how much I wanted her to.

“You finished stalling yet?”

Jenna laughed despite trying to hold it back. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t know.” And I didn’t know. All I knew, I did care. Very much.

3

Jenna

Adam watched me with clear and honest eyes. I debated what to tell him, if anything at all.