he knew that, he dropped his eyes to the table. “You’re a flower bound to suffocate without sunshine, fresh air, and tasty nutrients.”
I blinked. Hard. “What?”
Pushing up from the table, he said, “You heard me just fine.”
Then he was gone, and I was tearing apart his beautifully constructed sentence for countless minutes, the warmth in my chest spreading to my unstoppable smile.
I was sixteen when I saw the boy I’d watched blossom into a young man kiss someone.
Someone who wasn’t me. Someone who looked nothing remotely like me.
Why I thought she even would, I wasn’t yet able or ready to dissect.
The Orange Apples had finally started booking some local gigs, and even though hardly anyone showed up, those who did took their role as fans pretty seriously.
It had me feeling woefully young and inadequate in my cutoffs, off-the-shoulder T-shirt, and worn Doc Martens.
When rumor spread that their next gig in town was set to bring a higher turnout, the trouble began.
An echoing whine shrieked from the speakers. “Checking, one, two, skip a few, ninety-nine, a hundred,” Hendrix said into the mic, chuckling to himself as he adjusted the stand.
Spinning on a stool at the bar with a cherry Coke in my hand, I watched the guys set up.
Adela sat beside me, giggling at my brother’s embarrassing antics.
He’d finally gotten his braces off, but ever since, he’d only become more of an idiot. Especially since he’d scored some part-time work at the local garage with Everett after school and on Saturdays. He had no shame in swaggering around in his greased-up wifebeater long after work. The money from that and the tiny amount they’d made from gigs were going toward a sweet ride, he’d said.
Nothing wrong with being confident, Dad had said.
Mom had given him a look that said she disagreed. Me, well, I just did my best to stay away to help curb the temptation to smack him with something.
“Can I break girl code and marry your brother when we’re done with school?”
Most would probably be grossed out by the question, and I was, but I didn’t care enough to say that. “Go for it.” I snorted. “I wish you luck. You’ll need it.”
Adela grinned, then wrapped her lips around her straw and resumed staring at Hendrix as he fussed with cords on the makeshift stage set up in the back of the bar.
A flash of red caught my eye, and I swiveled to look down the emergency exit hallway, the one leading to the bathrooms. Everett was standing there, his lip between his teeth, all the while the bar continued to fill steadily with each passing moment.
I hesitated, and then I finished my drink and told Adela I’d be back.
He’d snuck into my room twice more since last Christmas. Both times drunk or high. But now, instead of just reeking of alcohol or weed, he reeked of weird perfumes and was often too wasted to say much of anything, let alone explain why he was there. Within a handful of minutes, he’d pass out on the pile of pillows I’d thrown to the floor.
My best guess was his parents never gave him a key, and he had to wait until one of them was up to get inside his own house.
He turned his back to me as I approached, and as I stopped in front of him, he capped a flask and reached behind him to tuck it into his back pocket. Turning, he jerked his head. “Clover.”
“Drinking before you play?” I asked, leaning against the wall.
He blew out a breath, and thanks to our proximity, the scent of whiskey hit me in the face.
I licked my lips, and his eyes narrowed on them for a brief second before he made them meet mine. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Always.”
He swallowed, eyes darting behind me to the almost full bar. “I don’t think I can do this.”
My brows gathered, and I straightened from the wall. “What, play?” I shook my head, confused. “You’ve done it before.”
“Not like this.” He gestured behind me. “Not with this many people watching. This is just…” He took a staggering step back into the dark hallway. “It’s too much, Clover.”
“Says who?” As I watched his expression, the battle he was having with fear, my heart clenched and softened. “Who says it’s too much? You? Because you should know,” I said, voice gentle while taking a slow step closer. “No one gives a shit if you screw up. They’re only here to see your pretty face.