by Emily Lowry
Not wanting to push the subject, I turned my attention to the rest of the lounge area. Tucked away in the back corner, there was a piano. The metronome she purchased at Notes was sitting on top.
“I knew you had a bit of music in you.”
24
Hailey
Trey didn’t approach the piano like my friends did. Most of them immediately slid onto the bench and started pretending to play, or they pressed down on the keys and ran them from one side to the other. If they had piano lessons when they were younger, they played Hot Cross Buns or Chopsticks. Trey didn’t do any of that. Instead, he approached it as if it was a skittish horse.
I watched him, entranced as he circled it first, his chin cradled in his hand, appraising the instrument. He examined it from every angle, ran his finger along its spine. It was a religious experience for him.
“I thought maybe for the performance part of our project we could do a little musical in front of the class. Get dressed in costumes — just a couple of the key scenes.”
“I’m not playing music for a school project. And I’m definitely not wearing a costume.”
“You said—”
“I said I’d take it seriously, not sacrifice my dignity.” Trey put his hand on his chin and continued to examine the piano. He looked at me. “Play something.”
Play something? In front of — arguably — the most talented musician I had ever met? No, I don’t think so. I would not embarrass myself. “That’s okay,” I said. “I don’t play much anymore.”
“Play,” he said. “I’m definitely not doing a musical with someone who can’t even play music. Play something good, and maybe I’ll think about it.” His coal dark eyes smoldered as they met mine. I could barely hear his voice over the rain pounding outside. But there was something in it that pulled me to him, that pulled me to the piano.
I sat on the bench. My heart pounded in my chest. When was the last time I had performed for someone live? My mouth went dry, and I felt the lump in my throat. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want him to laugh at me. I’d stuck with cheerleading for a reason. That’s who I was supposed to be, wasn’t it? A cheerleader?
“I really don’t—”
“And I really don’t want to be part of some school musical.”
I thought briefly about playing Chopsticks as a joke. But I couldn’t — if Trey was going to take his music seriously, I needed to take this seriously.
And so I played. The first song that came into my head. It only took him a few bars to figure out what I was playing.
“November Rain,” he whispered.
I nodded, saying nothing, and kept playing. It took all of my effort to keep going. A familiar sense of dread crept over me. Was I playing it wrong? Would he laugh at me? If I hit the wrong key, would he make fun of me?
No, Hailey. Not now. Not in front of him.
I felt like I was watching a horror movie, just waiting for the monster to jump out from the closet. My fingers trembled. My stomach churned. This was bad, and it would get worse.
But just before I had a full-blown panic attack, Trey slid onto the piano stool beside me. He looked over, gave me a reassuring smile, and picked out notes in a minor key, complementing the notes I was playing. It was beautiful.
Inspired, I kept on playing, as he provided the harmony to my melody. And then Trey sang, perfectly performing Axl Rose’s greatest ballad. His voice, coupled with our piano duet, was spellbinding.
In that moment, lost in the music, we were the only two people on earth.
And just like that, the panic was gone. His presence, warm and strong next to me, was all I needed. My breath was now shallow for an entirely different reason. His closeness was dizzying.
Fear was replaced by nervous energy, an electricity running through my body, sparking in my fingertips as they flew across the keys.
“Sing it with me, you know the words.”
I did.
And so we sang.
25
Hailey
The closing notes of November Rain filled the basement. We sat side by side, our shoulders touching. I was suddenly very aware of just how close we were to each other; how easy it would be to just turn a little bit and —
My phone vibrated.
I jumped.
Trey stifled a laugh.
And just like that, the moment was gone.
I checked my phone. Click.
“Great,” I muttered.
“What is it?”
“Click,” I said. “And I’m tagged in it.”
“You don’t have to open it.”
“Yeah, I do.”
I opened the blast. It was anonymous. But I recognized the location right away. It was my house. Trey’s van was parked outside. There was a bunch of commotion and the van rocked on its wheels, then, a moment later, the passenger door opened and I climbed out.
“The night we were at Prohibition,” I said. Nothing had happened in the van aside from a bit of play fighting, but the video was shot from behind the van so you couldn’t see in the windows. For all anyone knew, just moments before I climbed out of the passenger seat we’d been—
A caption flashed: Evermore’s Golden Girl goes for a swim in the slums. Anyone wonder what she’s been doing to convince Trey Carter to hang out with her?
My stomach dropped. I wanted to throw up. The blast was so perfectly staged there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind that Trey and I had been—
“It’s not real,” Trey said. “It’s just a stupid message.”
I casually rubbed my cheeks, trying to subtly get rid of the tear pricking the corner of my eye. “It’s Evermore,” I said. “It doesn’t have to be real for people to believe it.”
“So just tell them it’s not.”
“Because they’ll believe me?” I laughed. If you were a girl in high school, it didn’t matter what you did. If you said nothing, then you admitted that it happened. If you said it didn’t happen, then you were denying it only because you knew it was true. “It’s whatever.”
Trey grabbed my phone.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“How does it work?”
“What are you—”
“Just make a video of me. Here. Against the wall, so no one can tell that I’m here.”
I followed Trey to the corner of the room, aimed my phone at him, and pressed record.
He glared at the camera. “You all know me. Heard there’s been some rumors going around about me and the cheerleader. If you think they’re true, you’re dumber than Zamos. Which is bad, ‘cause he’s dumber than he looks — and he looks pretty freakin’ dumb.”
I ended the recording. “I can’t send that. Adam will—”
Trey laughed. “You think I’m scared of your big bad ex? Please. Just send it.”
“Are you sure?”
“I don’t make mistakes,” Trey said. “Send it.”
A wave of gratitude crashed over me. Evermore would never believe me, and true, some people wouldn’t believe Trey Carter. But most people would. I sent the blast anonymously.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Whatever.”
“It’s not whatever it’s—”
My stomach growled. Loudly.
Trey laughed.
“Just thanks,” I said. “And, as we both now know, I’m hungry. You?”
“I could eat.”
I opened EvermoreEats on my phone. Through the app, you could order food from many locally-owned restaurants. It was just another way that Evermore tried to keep its small-town charm alive.
“Romano’s carbonara?”
“Romano’s is lame.”
“It’s my stepdad’s favorite, we eat there at least once a week.”
“My point exactly,” Trey said. “Are you ordering something? Why? You’ve got to have loads of food in a house this big. Let’s make something!”
Before I could stop him, Trey was on his feet and up the stairs.
> “Wait—”
But he wasn’t waiting. I chased after him, hoping to catch him and convince him to order delivery.
By the time I caught him, he was already in the kitchen opening cupboards.
“Protein powder… Collagen powder… Super greens powder?” Trey closed the cupboard, a look of disgust on his face. “What is this crap? Where’s the actual food?”
I blushed furiously and felt anger simmer in my chest. “We don’t cook much, okay?”
Trey raised an eyebrow and opened the fridge and stared at the neatly lined cans of Perrier and stacked bottles of champagne. He loosened the cap on a jug of milk, sniffed it, and gagged. “This isn’t even milk anymore. It’s cheese.”
“I’m not home very much,” I said. I knew how lame my excuses must sound, but it was better than the truth.
Trey pressed on, ignoring my protests. The next cupboard yielded only bottles of vitamins and supplements, and in the freezer, we had a package of freezer-burned steaks, and some frozen fruit that I used for smoothies. “Seriously, how are you alive eating like this?”
The answer was obvious, wasn’t it? I waved my phone at him, showing the front page for EvermoreEats. “Duh?”
I tried to maintain a look of indifference, acting like it was perfectly natural to have no proper food in the house. Who was Trey to judge me, anyway? Maybe I preferred it this way. Maybe I was too busy with cheer practice and being his stupid publicist that I didn’t have time to make food. Maybe no one had taught me how to cook, and maybe no one was around. Maybe EvermoreEats was the best I could do, and that was okay.
Tears of shame pricked my eyes.
No. I was not doing this. I would not cry in front of him.
Trey’s expression softened. “Hey, it’s okay.”
“Whatever,” I said, flipping my hair. “If you’re too good for delivery—”
“Hailey. It’s okay.” He crossed the kitchen and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. I rested my head on his broad, solid chest, and I could hear the steady beat of his heart through his t-shirt. The sound was strangely comforting. I closed my eyes and let him hug me, my hands slowly drifting around his body.
“I’m sorry.” I mumbled into his shirt. “Just with this, with Click—”
“All good, Hailey. But you need to eat something. How about I take you to the best restaurant in town?”
I raised an eyebrow. “And where might that be?”
“My place.”
26
Trey
The van’s windshield wipers screeched across the glass, wiping away the last of the rain. The storm was over, the clouds breaking apart, swaths of light blue sky taking shape. There was almost no snow left in Evermore, it seemed. The rain must have melted it all away. That wouldn’t last — there was always snow to come in Colorado.
Home was a rundown bungalow on the poor side of Evermore, the side that people wanted to pretend didn’t exist. The people were good, mostly, but they were trapped. You needed an education to get out, and you needed money for an education. Technically, the neighborhood fell in Evermore High’s school district. That’s why my mom picked it, even if she needed to work multiple jobs just to pay the rent.
“Here we are,” I said, pulling up to the curb. A broken stone path led to a screen door that never closed properly. Heavy January snow had punched a hole in the roof's corner. The landlord said he’d fix it. Eventually. The picket fence badly needed a paint job, and the windows were so thin that when you stood next to them inside, you could feel the cold.
From where we were parked, I could see mom in the kitchen. She was bent over the stove, stirring something with a wooden ladle. She was laughing at something — probably something my brother did.
“It looks warm,” Hailey said. Her fingertips rested on the van windows.
I never thought about my house like that, but compared to the cold lifelessness of her mansion? Warm was exactly the word to use.
“Will she like me?”
“Who?”
“Your mom.”
“Does it matter?”
“No, I suppose not,” Hailey said. She spoke in a way that made it very, very clear that it mattered.
“It’s all good. Any friend of mine…”
Was that the word for what we were? Friends?
Everything in me felt otherwise.
27
Hailey
My home was like a trophy case. Everything inside was pristine and polished. It told a story of victories from the past. Victories that you couldn’t touch without smudging your fingerprints. Trey’s home was what I imagined an actual home felt like. As we reached the front door, infectious laughter reached out to us.
“Smells good,” I said, as Trey opened the door for me.
Footsteps thundered from the kitchen, and a boy whipped around the corner, holding a piece of paper. He looked like he was about to talk, but when he saw me, he clamped his mouth shut so hard I heard his teeth clack.
“What’s up, little dude?” Trey gave his brother a fist bump. “This is Hailey. Hailey, Isaac. Terror of Evermore Middle School.”
“I’m not a terror!” Isaac glared at Trey while shaking my hand. “You’re a terror. MOM! TREY BROUGHT A GIRL HOME.”
“Not cool,” Trey said, laughing. But before he could put his brother in a headlock, Isaac was gone.
The next person to round the corner was a woman in her late 30s who looked way too young to be Trey’s mother. She was shorter than I was, and had long hair that fell over her shoulders. Trey and his mom had the same nose, the same eyes. Those eyes went very wide when she saw me. “You, young lady, are way out of my son’s league. You’re not even playing the same sport.”
“She’s not my—” Trey cut himself off.
I wasn’t his… girlfriend? No, I wasn’t.
So why did he cut himself off?
Don’t think about it too hard, Hailey.
“I’m Hailey,” I said.
Trey’s mom waved my outstretched hand aside and gave me a hug. “Rayna. It’s an absolute pleasure, my dear.” She took a step back, keeping her hands on my shoulders. “You’re staying for supper? You’re just in time!”
“If that’s okay?”
“Absolutely! Our house is your house. But we have one rule around here: You want to eat, you have to cook.”
The panic on my face must have been obvious, because Rayna laughed. Her voice was warm and inviting. “Don’t worry — we’ll put you and Trey on dessert duty.” She turned to Trey. “What are you doing? Take the lady’s jacket. Show her around.”
Trey immediately helped me out of my jacket and started showing me the house. The living room had an old, worn couch and one of those TVs that was a big cube, not a flat screen. There was a Wii on the floor. A controller lay beside it, the back casing off, no batteries inside.
Next, Isaac’s room. Posters covered everything. Bands, movie characters, video games. You couldn’t even pick out the wall. Laundry was scattered across the floor and there was a shelf filled with old board games, including two different variations of Monopoly.
“And my room,” Trey said. “Don’t judge me.”
“Why, because it’s so dirty?” I teased.
Trey opened the door, and I immediately felt bad for teasing him.
There was an unmade bed pressed against the wall. A guitar case. A handful of guitar picks on a nightstand, and some loose sheets of paper with music notation. They looked like they were scribbled by hand. He slipped in after me and closed the door. The room smelled like him — worn leather mixed with pine.
Trey pulled the blanket haphazardly over his bed and sat down. I sat next to him, and tried very hard not to think about the fact I was in Trey Carter’s bedroom, sitting on his bed.
“Really focused on your music, huh?” A stupid thing to say, but what else could I say? He didn’t have anywhere near the luxuries I had in my room, but it’s not like I earned them. Mom married rich. It had nothing t
o do with me.
“I don’t need a lot,” Trey said. “Everything else is just a distraction. Plus, this way, Isaac gets more. He needs it more than me, anyway.”
Without thinking, I grabbed his hand.
He laced his fingers through mine, squeezed softly. “Can I ask you something, Hailey?”
“What?”
“Why Adam?” he asked. “Of all the guys that drool over you, why him?”
It was a great question. Anyone who knew Adam today knew what a jerk he was — including me. So why did I date him for so long? Why put up with him?
“He was nice,” I said.
Trey coughed, trying to hide a laugh.
I shot him a look. “He was! At least, he was when we first started going out. That was before he was Adam Zamos, captain of the football team. Back then he was just a sophomore who wasn’t sure if he was good enough to play varsity or not. He was insecure. Like me.”
I waited to see if Trey would say anything, but when he didn’t, I continued. “And he was nice to me. He supported me. Told me I would definitely make the cheer team and that one day I would be captain. And that we’d be captains together. He sounded so confident when he talked about our future, like he knew exactly who he was supposed to be, and exactly who I was supposed to be. And I… I didn’t.”
Trey was gazing at me, his hand still squeezing mine. “Go on, it’s okay.”
“Cheerleaders date football players. It’s what we’re supposed to do at Evermore. And I’m the girl that does what she’s supposed to do. It’s like I have a million voices in my hand telling me who I’m supposed to be and what choice I’m supposed to make. And, I don’t know, I guess Adam’s voice was the loudest.”
A wave of emotion crashed into me as I finished, and I looked down at the floor.
“Hailey.” Trey reached out and ran his fingertips along the line of my jaw, making me shiver.
I looked up, and his dark eyes locked with mine.