of her making me want to hold on. “I’m not negotiating, and I’m not taking your money. Don’t you dare feel sorry for me.”
“I feel sorry for the guitar.”
Adrenaline pumps through my veins. “You think my hands are that good?”
She puts her wallet away and shoots me a slow smile. “I wouldn’t know.”
It’s only teasing, but those words affect me. We’re in a school hallway, but suddenly I picture dragging her into a stairwell and showing her just what my hands can do.
Because, suddenly, fixing her music box and playing while she sings don’t feel like the best use of them.
I want to press my thumb into her mouth, to make her moan around it.
I want to drag up her skirt to find out what words she’s hiding beneath.
I want to grab her ankles, wrap those endless legs around my hips tight enough I can grind into her.
Late last night, she texted to say my lights were on and asked if I wanted to practice in the pool house.
I shut that down even though I wanted to say yes.
If I was the talking type, I might ask her to be more considerate.
To stop teasing me with those long looks, the knowing smiles, the smart-ass comments.
But none of it makes a difference because Annie and I are still worlds apart in every way that matters.
We might share a smile in the hallway at school, but I have my friends and she has hers. She goes to rehearsal. I hang with the popular kids, feign ambivalence when Carly spews her bullshit when all I want to do is find Annie and get the hell out of this place.
It’s necessary. The framework that keeps everything in place, that reminds me not to fall for Jax’s daughter when he isn’t there to remind me himself.
“What is this?” Annie bends to pick up something that’s fallen on the floor.
I take it from her. “Nothing. Your dad’s.”
I’ve been staring at the business card all weekend, but I haven’t made the call.
I shove the card in my jacket pocket and force my attention back to the task at hand. “If I’m going to start over, I’d rather go with mahogany. Something heavier weight with better sustain. Maybe a rosewood fret. V neck. I like how it fits in my hands.”
“Three days ago you didn’t want a new guitar. Now you’re Clapton. Anything else?”
I reach for her blazer collar, straighten it with both hands for an excuse to touch her hair, to graze her neck with my thumbs. “Twenty-four fret.”
“All right, big boy.” She grins, and I swallow the laugh. “Stay here,” she says before heading back to let the guy down easy.
I tune out the conversation, but my chest expands at the fact that she cared enough to set this up for me.
This girl makes me wonder what things are possible in this world.
My phone rings in my pocket, and like that, my good mood evaporates.
When the voicemail appears, my finger hovers over the delete button, but thinking of Annie’s comment about how you have to open yourself up sometimes, I hold the phone to my ear instead.
My father’s voice spills out, angry and pleading in turn.
You still owe me, Tyler.
I gave up everything for you, you ungrateful bastard.
You can’t abandon your family.
A group of students approaches, laughing and oblivious, and I wait for them to pass before I duck into a recessed stairwell.
I lean my forehead against the cold painted brick, squeezing my eyes shut. If I’d thought maybe something had changed, like maybe he’d wake up and see what an asshole he’s been his entire life…
I was wrong. It never changes.
“Okay, he was bummed but… Tyler?” Annie’s footsteps draw closer until I feel her at my side. “What happened?”
I shake my head. “Same bullshit as always. For some reason, I still fucking care.”
Annie ducks between my arms and takes my face in her hands. “Caring isn’t a weakness. Even if the person you care about doesn’t care back, that doesn’t mean you should stop.”
I heave out a breath, her cool hands grounding me. My hair’s falling over my face and part of hers. I wish it could hide us from the world.
“You’re good at caring about people,” she goes on, her voice a murmur.
“Like who?”
“Like me.”
I exhale heavily, my hands braced on the wall on either side of her head. “I told you I don’t.”
“But you’ve shown me you do.”
I pull back enough to look into her eyes brimming with empathy I’d never ask for