by Love, Kristy
“Thank you, Bee. This is the best Christmas gift I’ve ever gotten.” His lips pressed against the side of my face and it felt like they seared into me, lighting me on fire. I fought the urge to lean into his kiss. “Hell, the best gift I’ve ever gotten.” His voice was hoarse again, and there was something undeniably sexy about it. Something warm pooled low in my belly that made me press my thighs together.
I sighed, pulling away from him reluctantly. I reached under the tree and pulled out a stack of paper wrapped in a red ribbon. “I got you some music paper. I know you said you were interested in writing your own music, so I figured it’d get you started.”
His mouth dropped open as he took the paper from me. “Bee,” he choked out. “You spent way too much.” He stroked the paper as though it was the most delicate thing in the world.
“So did you.”
“You’re worth it.”
“So are you.” I hugged him again, wanting to be close to him, to feel him against me. My stomach did its usual somersault, and my heart thumped erratically. “You’re my best friend, Nash. You only deserve the best.” I smiled at him, and he grinned back. His grin sent a tingle of something delicious down my spine. I wanted to press my lips to his, feel the curve of them against my own.
“It’s a good thing, too. Because you’re the best, best friend in the whole world.” He set the guitar to the side and tackled me to the ground, tickling me, making me laugh so hard my sides hurt. When he finally stopped, his fingers were pressed into my side, and his weight was still mostly on top of me. The laughter died as I was intimately aware of every place our bodies touched, feelings stirring inside me that I didn’t understand. His thumb brushed over me, pulling my shirt up slightly. I felt that touch radiate throughout my entire body, and I sucked in a breath as he leaned a little closer, his smile falling. Something in his eyes captivated me, held me against the floor and made it impossible to fill my lungs. Part of me wondered if he’d lean down and kiss me and, God, I wanted that kiss so badly.
Instead, my mom’s clacking heels coming down the hallway caused him to jump up. He pulled me with him, smoothing my clothes down and picking up the guitar and centering it in his lap purposefully.
Leave it to my mom to ruin the moment.
* * *
School was back in session after Christmas, and I was glad my routine was back in full swing. I had my brand-new planner on my desk and a notebook. I’d spent a long time over the break figuring out how to label everything in it. I picked which color was for which class and which ones were for stuff I had planned with my friends. Peyton, my other best friend, teased me, telling me that normal teenagers didn’t enjoy being so organized. There was almost nothing as thrilling as organizing things. The only thing I’d found that was better was Nash.
Mr. Goreski walked into the room. “Get your textbooks out. We’re hitting the ground running.” He walked to the whiteboard and uncapped a marker, launching into our history lesson.
“Pssst,” the person behind me said, poking me in the back with his finger. I tried to ignore him and pay attention to the notes I was writing, but the kid behind me wouldn’t stop.
I turned slightly when the teacher was writing on the board. “What?” I bit out in a whisper.
“Can I borrow a piece of paper and a pencil?” he asked, a lopsided smile gracing his lips. His eyes were a bright blue, almost looking like they were crystal. I huffed and ripped a piece of paper out of my notebook, then reached for a pencil out of my book bag. After handing it to him, he thanked me and began scribbling on the paper. I’d never seen him before, and I wondered if he was new. How could you show up to school so unprepared?
I brushed thoughts of the strange boy behind me away as Mr. Goreski continued the lesson. There was no time to focus on him while the teacher was in front of the class. This teacher was notoriously tough and loved throwing curveballs, especially pop quizzes. I couldn’t afford for my focus to be on anything other than what we were learning.
When the class was over, the kid behind me poked me again, this time with my pencil. “Here’s your pencil. Thanks.” He handed it to me, folding up the piece of paper and shoving it in his pocket. Without another word, he sauntered out of the room. I couldn’t help but notice he had nothing but his newly acquired textbook tucked under his arm, even though it was fourth period. Surely, he’d gotten books in his other classes, but he didn’t seem to have any of them.
His inability to prepare irked me, so I fished out my extra notebook, then walked out of the room, scanning the halls. I saw the kid at his locker, shoving his history book in. As I approached, I saw the inside of his locker decorated with music stuff. He had band stickers and pictures taped to the inside. I recognized a few of them as bands that Nash really liked.
“Here,” I said when I stopped next to him, handing him the notebook and the pencil. “You should have something to write on for the rest of the day.”
He regarded me, his eyes drifting over my body as if he was assessing me. “Thanks.” He tucked the pencil behind his ear. I nodded and turned to walk away. “My name’s Felix.”
I looked back at him. Nash’s words from long ago drifting through my mind. My mom says it’s really important to tell people your name if you’re going to be friends. “Bianca.” His dark hair brought out his bright blue eyes. His hair was disheveled and kind of a disaster. In fact, his hair looked like a darker version of Nash’s. Looking over his wrinkled shirt, dark jeans, and Converse, I realized that Nash and Felix were almost clones. Different hair color, eye color, and different complexion. Those were the only differences I could see so far. In fact, Felix seemed to have Nash’s laid-back personality down too. It drove me insane how Nash drifted through school like it wasn’t important.
“What lunch do you have?” His eyes kept moving over me as if he was trying to commit me to memory.
“B. What about you?”
“B. We should sit together.”
I blinked a few times, surprised at how forward he was. He didn’t seem phased or worried that I’d reject him. He put the offer out there, and it was up to me what I did with it. I had a feeling he’d be fine if I told him no, but I didn’t want to. Something about him intrigued me. Maybe it was his similarities to Nash, or maybe it was his aloofness. “Sure. My friends are in B lunch, too. We can all sit together.”
“Cool.” One corner of his lips tipped up, and he slammed his locker shut. He nabbed the pencil from behind his ear and gestured toward me. “Thanks for this.” He strode away, and I watched after him, shaking my head.
It was finally lunchtime, and I couldn’t wait to catch up with Peyton and Nash. Where Nash and I had been best friends since the first day of kindergarten, Peyton and I hadn’t met until first grade. She felt like the other half of me, the half not taken up by Nash. I’d hung out with Peyton a bunch over break, but I hadn’t seen Nash since our Christmas gift exchange. I knew his parents had told him about the guitar lessons they got him by the excited text he sent me. It had taken weeks of convincing his parents to let him drop baseball and pick up guitar. Finally, they realized that music was clearly Nash’s passion in a way sports had never been—and never would be. After I’d convinced them, I’d asked if I could get Nash the guitar. I planned on doing it anyway, but I figured it’d be easier if I had them on board.
I grabbed my lunch and started toward our usual table. As I passed the other lunch line, Felix popped out of the cafeteria.
“Bianca,” he greeted, nodding his head.
“Hey.” I smiled. “We sit over this way.” He waved his arm in front of him and followed behind me.
“Hey,” he said.
I sat down next to Peyton and Felix sat down next to me. He opened his milk and took long pulls from it before saying anything. “Hey, guys,” I said. “This is Felix, we have history together. Felix, these are my best friends, Nash and Peyton.” They all exchanged hellos, and Nash and Felix regarded each other.
“I haven’t s
een you around before,” Peyton said. I shot Peyton a look, wishing she could practice manners once in a while. Her hair matched her mouth. It was blonde and cut into a straight bob, her bangs hanging down almost into her eyes. Her eyes were a weird mix of blue and gray, they almost looked like silver.
“I just moved here.” Felix opened his milk and guzzled it. “I’ve only been here for a week.”
“Where’d you move from?” Peyton asked, ripping off a piece of breadstick and popping it in her mouth.
“Los Angeles.”
“Damn, that’s quite a change,” Nash quipped. “Talk about different everything. Weather, people, town. Welcome to the suburbs of Pennsylvania. The most exciting thing that happens here are football games and maybe a cow tipping.” Nash raised his milk in salute.
“Yeah, I’m getting that feel,” Felix responded. “It’s different, but it’s good so far. Other than the snow.”
“Snow is the devil.” Nash nodded.
“Why’d you move?” Peyton asked.
“Peyton! Stop being nosey!” I threw a piece of my bread at her. Of course, she leaned down, and it landed in her mouth. She chewed, a huge smile on her face. I rolled my eyes at her.
“My parents split. My dad stayed in LA, my mom got a job here. Plus, all her family is here, so it made sense.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“It’s no big deal. They aren’t fighting anymore, so it’s a win.”
Conversation flowed away from grilling the new guy to random tidbits of the day. Felix seamlessly inserted himself into our group, like he’d always been here. As soon as Nash pulled out a piece of music paper, Felix’s body went rigid beside me. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, wondering what was wrong. Nash had told me he’d been working on something while he was in Erie with his family.
“What’s that?” Felix asked. He leaned forward, trying to get a closer look at the paper.
“Something I’ve been working on,” Nash responded, never looking up, his pencil tapping along to an imaginary beat he heard.
“You play?” Felix’s eyes flicked between the paper and Nash, appraising him again. It was like pieces were rearranging in his head, like suddenly Nash was much more interesting.
“Yeah. Piano and I just started guitar.”
Felix sat back, and a huge Cheshire grin curled his lips. “Drums,” Felix said. Nash’s head shot up. They looked at each other as if they were fully assessing the other, trying to feel each other out. “I can look at it if you want.”
“You write songs?”
Felix shrugged. “I do.”
Nash paused a beat, continuing to study Felix. He nodded once. “Okay.” Nash moved over, and Felix went around the table to sit next to him.
Peyton and I exchanged a look. “Okaaayy,” she said, raising an eyebrow. I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. Nash had confessed to me a few times that while he loved being friends with Peyton and me, he felt kind of like an outsider. Sure, Peyton and I liked music, we listened to it and enjoyed singing along, but we didn’t live music the way Nash did. It warmed me knowing he’d found someone he could talk to about it. He could share his passion with someone else, and they’d get it.
For the next twenty minutes, Felix and Nash didn’t stop talking. They got more and more animated and excited as time went on. Peyton and I tried to talk about other things, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off the two of them. Though, really, it was Nash I couldn’t stop staring at. I liked watching his cheeks go pink with the excitement of someone getting it, of being able to share his passion with someone else. His eyes lit with a spark, and he talked animatedly. My lips curved upward, once again getting wrapped up in his enthusiasm.
It was one of those moments that you could tell something was happening. The way Nash smiled at Felix and the way Felix leaned closer. They talked in hushed tones as if discussing something of national security. Nash erased something and scribbled something else in its place. Felix nodded enthusiastically. They effortlessly meshed together, becoming one musical mind.
“Come over tonight and we’ll work on it,” Nash said when the lunch bell rang.
“Four?” Felix asked.
“Sounds good. I’m free tonight.”
They went off on their own, talking. “You hear that sound?” Peyton asked.
“What’s that?” I watched the two boys walk away.
“That’s the sound of a bromance being born.” I threw my head back and laughed, bumping into Peyton’s shoulder.
“They hit it off, huh?”
“Yeah. I have a feeling they’ll be making sweet, sweet music together.” Peyton grinned.
“Oh, my God, stop!” I couldn’t stop laughing.
“You just watch,” Peyton said, suddenly serious, “that’s something special right there.” She pointed at their retreating backs. They were hunched together, invisible lines of music tying them together.
My eyes went to the door the boys had just walked through. I had a feeling Peyton was right.
Chapter 2
Age 15
Nash and Felix worked on a song at the table in my dining room. Peyton and I were sprawled on the floor, surrounded by notebooks, pencils, textbooks, and our school-issued iPads. Felix and Nash were quietly talking with an intensity that radiated off them, and my attention kept drifting from my homework to them—specifically Nash. My eyes wanted to drink him in like they had just stumbled across an oasis after being stranded in the desert for days.
I took in the straight lines of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the way his eyebrows curved. I knew the way his lips quirked when they were excited about something and the way his eyes sparkled when he was doing anything involved in music. I knew the exact spot the dimple dipped in his cheek when he was really happy or excited. I’d memorized the way his hands dragged through his hair when he was talking and was slightly frustrated that his mouth couldn’t move as fast as his thoughts. His fingers were long and smooth, other than the callouses that covered the tips from all the time spent plucking away at his guitar. His deep brown hair framed his face and made his green eyes pop, especially when filled with passion. I even knew the way he leaned against his locker when he was trying to get a girl’s attention—unfortunately, never mine. He’d lean with one arm slightly above his head, his weight resting on his forearm.
Needless to say, if Nash were a class at school, I’d ace with flying colors.
Peyton tapped my book with her pencil, drawing my attention away from Nash and back to my Algebra II homework. I shot Peyton an apologetic smile and buried my nose in my textbook. So far, Nash hadn’t noticed that I stared at him obsessively. At least, if he did, he was nice enough to spare me the shame of being caught.
Nash chuckled softly, the sound hitting me in the stomach even from across the room. I huffed out an exasperated sigh and rolled over onto my back, pressing the heel of my palms into my eyes. There was no hope of getting any actual work done while he was here.
“Bianca,” Peyton hissed at me. She raised an eyebrow, her eyes darting to where Nash and Felix sat. “You have homework.” Her voice stern. I hadn’t come right out and said I felt more for Nash, but Peyton could clearly tell.
Embarrassment filled me, and I rolled over to my stomach, looking down at my book, trying to center myself. “I know. I just need a minute.”
“You can have a minute later.” Her eyes shot to Nash again. I threw Peyton a pleading look. I wanted her to give me a break, to save me from myself, to distract me from Nash’s overwhelming presence.
Instead, I got Nash stretching his long body from his chair and sauntering over toward me, plopping on the floor next to me. He rested his head against my abdomen, looking up at me, his green eyes smiling. My heart tripped over itself and landed somewhere in my throat. “What’s wrong, Bee?” He reached up and twirled a piece of hair between his fingers, his eyes tracking the motion.
“I’m having trouble concentrating.” I hated how breathy my voice sounded.
I hated that he brought it out of me and didn’t seem the least bit affected by me at all.
“What’s wrong?” His forehead creased as he looked up at me.
“I’m just distracted.”
“More like someone is distracting her,” Peyton quipped. I wanted to crawl into a hole. Why did she have to blurt that?
Nash shifted in my lap, his head pressing into my abdomen. I fought the urge to close my eyes. “Are we bothering you? I don’t want to do that; I just wanted to hang out with you. I feel like we haven’t seen much of each other lately and I miss you.” His fingers found my hair again, and he gave it a light tug.
We hadn’t seen much of each other lately. He and Felix were usually together, working on music. They’d taken to playing together. In fact, they were damn near inseparable. Sometimes it felt like Felix was taking my place as Nash’s best friend, which filled me with all kinds of jealousy. As usual, Nash wouldn’t let Peyton or me hear what they sounded like when they were together. A few times when I’d stopped over at his house early, I stood outside his garage and listened. They were good, though rough around the edges. Nash had picked up the guitar like an extension of himself, pouring himself into playing every chance he got.
“You’re fine,” I breathed. The way his eyes looked at me, so concerned, made me want to bridge the gap between us and touch him. He smelled like music and pencils, of gasoline from the garage he and Felix were so frequently playing in, of freshly cut grass from his lawn mowing jobs, of fabric softener and some cologne. When they were combined, they smelled like Nash and everything I ever wanted.
“We can leave if the drumming on the table or our bickering is obnoxious.”
“We do not bicker,” Felix said from the table. He stood and joined us, stretching out on the floor, his head coming up to the side of Peyton’s.